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

[littlebopeeper]

Hmm.  If Sarah is set on having a baby and Ian is having second thoughts, will Vickie take his place?  And if Vickie's job goes bye bye, will there be enough money for Rita to buy her lakeside mansion?  And can Rita realize her dream without Sarah's salary?  Here's hoping that Ian decides to keep his apartment, and invite Priscilla to move in with him.  Great chapter.

[Babypants]

Quickie Country & Western quiz:

Down in the dumps, Sarah called the request line at KSAD, the 500 megawatt blowtorch in International Falls, MN.  Which of the following do you think the Dee Jay led off with in response?

A.  Jolene (Dolly Parton)

B.  When Will I Be Loved (Linda Ronstadt)

C.  You're No Good (Linda Ronstadt)

D.  Your Cheatin' Heart (Hank Williams, Sr.) 

[Guilend]

Ooh, that's a tough one. Probably A, second pick is D.

[Babypants]

15 hours ago, Guilend said:

Ooh, that's a tough one. Probably A, second pick is D.

Sarah will still be tuned in at the start of the next scene, so we shall find out in due course!  Thanks for playing.

[Babypants]

CHEEP ... CHEEP ... CHEEP ... CHEEP

“Ah, 24 Hours from Tulsa, a true classic from the country and western graveyard known as the nineteen sixties! Welcome back to KSAD, everyone! The final resting place of deceased disc jockeys who've followed the one way road all the way to International Falls, Minnesota! And Stephen King's dead on … we do have a hell of a band here, and five hundred kilowatts of bone crunching power crushing the airwaves from Murmansk to Tierra del Fuego! Jaynie, we got any advertisers in Tierra del Fuego?”

“Not that I know of, James.”

“Remind me to tell station management to get us some advertisers in Tierra del Fuego!”

“Made a note of it, James.”

“Thank you, lovely Jaynie. Now what's it like outside as we approach the end of the hour and the end of our shift here at AM 540, the veritable bottom of the dial, where you can check out but never leave?”

“It's currently thirty seven below zero out there, James, with a wind chill taking it down to seventy two below.”

“A perfect night for ice fishing! Gonna go catch me some walleye! Park the old pick up out on the lake, leave the radio on, blasting out KSAD all the way to Mars! We get any fan mail this week from purple Martian centipedes?”

“Seven letters so far, all with postage due.”

“No matter. I'll tell management to take it out of your paycheck! This is James Dean signing off with a trio of requests from Sarah down in the Twin Cities, who appears to have a serious boyfriend problem. We got Hank Williams, Senior's Your Cheatin' Heart, Linda Ronstadt's When Will I Be Loved … but first … here's Dolly Parton, and Jolene.”

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene

I'm begging of you please don't take my man

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene

Please don't take him just because you can …

. . . .

“You scared the shit out of me,” Ian said affectionately. “Literally!”

“Literally?”  

Priscilla gently tapped the seat of his pants, but there was no way to feel the mess through his thick diaper and canvas cover. Nor could she detect the telltale odor of a dirty diaper, for which she was thankful.

“And your diaper bag's in the car,” she observed. “I guess we should hoof it.”

“Or we could head upstairs and see if Sarah's back from her shopping trip, maybe take a peek at the latest instruments of torture that she's lined up for me.”

“Not sure that's a good idea. After all, we didn't fool Marilyn Marsden, and the damsel who keeps you in perpetual distress may have an equally keen eye. She scares me, and I'm a tough, hard nosed police officer who doesn't scare easily. For the time being, I think we ought to keep our distance.”

“Your wish is my command ...”

“I like that,” Priscilla giggled. “I like that a lot!”

“Oh, dear,” Ian sighed dramatically. “I do have a thing for bossy women, don't I? You're the fourth one I've fallen for this month.”

“Just a baby who's crying out for his mommy, but a very naughty baby. Vickie and I indulge you far too much, and Sarah doesn't indulge you enough. How are we ever to find the middle ground … let you be a little naughty, but not too much?”

“Maybe I should fly off to Athens and leave the four of you to sort out my fate.”

“Oh no you don't!” Priscilla waved a lone finger in Ian's face as a warning, not realizing that the gesture was exactly what an exasperated mother would do with a small child. “I like Irina, but I'm not about to run the risk that you'll fall for her as well. Nope, no way. I take my bodyguard duties very seriously, so if you're going to Athens, then I'm going to Athens. And if the two of us are going to Athens, what are the odds that Sarah's going to Athens? And if Sarah's going to Athens, what are the odds that Rita and Vickie are going to Athens? So, the only thing left to decide is when the five of us are going to Athens.”

Priscilla's tone made it clear that the matter was no longer under discussion.

“Right now,” Ian groaned, “you're going to change my diaper. So, tell me, Officer Canon: where are we going?”

“Across the street. We have a very nice restroom on the second floor. So come, your diaper changing station awaits!”

. . . .

Rita headed straight home, arriving a few minutes before the work crew that would set up Vickie's crib in the makeshift nursery. It took additional minutes to dismantle Ian's crib and move it from the alcove. Following Sarah's lead, Rita had the two cribs placed side by side in the center of the room, leaving space for the changing table in one corner, and for Vickie's dresser and chest of drawers to be housed along the opposite wall. The nursery would be cramped but fully functional, with multiple diaper pails guaranteeing that in a very short space of time the chamber would smell like a true nursery.

Poop, pee, and baby powder!

Rita couldn't wait to get her babies home.

. . . .

As soon as Vickie walked in the door, she tossed her coat on the floor, kicked off her shoes, and headed for the bedroom. Leaving her clothing scattered across the bed, she moved on to the bathroom. She promptly unlocked and discarded the diaper cover, with her pink baby pants and heavy diaper quickly following, the latter finding a temporary home in the trash can alongside the toilet.

Returning to the bedroom completely nude, she collected her wand, and once settled comfortably in a sea of plush pillows atop the comforter, closed her eyes and began to massage her breasts. They were sensitive, but she knew that they would become far more so once she began using the breast pump on a regular basis.

In her imagination, her breasts were larger now, the nipples more pronounced, everything incredibly sensitive. She could feel the milk leaking out, could feel Ian eagerly pouncing, lapping it up, then settling in her arms, latching on, feeding on her teats.

Pinching and playing with now hardened nipples, eyes tightly shut, Vickie could feel molten lava erupting from her breasts and flowing in a smooth stream to her vagina. She used her fingers, imagining that it was Ian's tongue working its magic, licking and nibbling on the inside of her thighs, bringing her to full arousal before even venturing to explore her nub, even before invading her.

Vickie's breath shortened, giving way to soft moans as she used her fingers on all of her most sensitive spots, the ones that she would train Ian to give his full, devoted attention. Finally reaching for the wand, she activated it at the lowest setting, and began running it back and forth across the secret places that Ian in time would know so well. She came, but she was hungry for more. Imagining Ian beneath her, riding him, enslaving him with her taut muscles while his knowing hands wandered all over her body.

She changed the setting, and almost instantly climaxed again, her moans giving way to a muted but insistent scream.

Finally exhausted, Vickie set the wand aside, and decided to luxuriate in a nice, warm bubble bath. But first she would visit the kitchen and mix a Cuba Libre, the rum and coke drowning the ice cubes. She didn't have a lime, but when it came to alcohol, in truth Vickie wasn't very picky.

Returning to the bathroom, she put the radio on low, soft rock playing in the background as she settled into the tub for a nice, long soak, occasionally interrupted with a sip of her drink. This was how Rita found her, Vickie being sensible enough to have given her best friend a spare key long, long ago.

. . . .

You've come to tell me something you say I ought to know

Sarah's tears gradually slowed to a trickle, and then ceased altogether.

That he don't love me anymore and I'll have to let him go

The heaving sobs that had left her gasping for air faded away. She did not need to look in a mirror to know that she was a mess, but fumbling in her purse for her makeup mirror, she checked the damage anyway.

You say you're gonna take him, oh, but I don't think you can

A wry smile creased her lips. Bloodshot eyes … makeup smudged and streaked …

I look just like Vickie did when we walked out of Rita's office this morning. Time to get a grip, girl!

But the real damage was emotional, and it was massive. She had been so casually betrayed, and the pain that Ian's betrayal had triggered was bad … unimaginably so.

'Cause you ain't woman enough to take my man

But the pain had merged with anger. She had trusted Ian, and her trust had been misplaced.

She had trusted Amy, and raised no objection when she handed Ian off to the policewoman. Her trust had been displaced.

She had trusted others, and that had been her mistake. She was angry with them, but she was no less angry with herself. Her mother had warned her to keep Ian under her firm control, urged her to deploy the ultimate weapon of complete orgasm denial. She had ignored the warning, ignored her mother's advice, and now she was paying the price. The chastity cage nestled inside her purse was a practical solution, but she had not sensed the need for urgency. She had taken her damned, sweet time ...

And now she was paying the price.

The bottom line? What was she going to do next?

No mysteries here, she mused. Without trust, it always comes down to the same two choices. Do you dump the bastard, or do you try to find some way to salvage the relationship?

Sarah impatiently drummed her fingers on the desk top while idly staring at the box containing the breast pump. In the back of her mind, she already knew what choice she would make. The breast pump, and all that it symbolized, had left her with but the one option.

Time to stop feeling sorry for yourself, girl. Now, get to work, and clean up this mess … starting with your face!

Diving back into her purse, Sarah pulled out her lipstick and cosmetics, and set about repairing the damage. When she was finished, she opened the door, then returned to her desk. There were always reports to process, and the pile stacked in front of her would serve to hide her away from the world.

Women like you they're a dime a dozen, you can buy 'em anywhere

She opened the patient file on top of the stack, and used it to make herself look busy. But she was deep in thought, her mind running over the weapons at her disposal, and the tactics that would best serve her purpose.

For you to get to him I'd have to move over And I'm gonna stand right here

Looking down, Sarah belatedly realized that she had been doodling on a scratchpad. The same two words, over and over again.

Trust

Guilt

Ian had demonstrated that he could not be trusted, but he was clearly capable of feeling guilt. His entire treatment plan pivoted around the presumption that he was hiding from something that had gone badly wrong in Viet Nam, something that he had brought back to the States, something which had haunted him ever since. Guilt was something that she could manipulate, something that could give her the upper hand in a contest of wills. But how to make use of it?

Gradually, a plan formed in Sarah's mind. She would tell him what she had witnessed, and ask him point blank if he had made love to Priscilla. Whatever his answer, truth or lie, instead of blowing up and verbally abusing him, she would be understanding, forgiving, even magnanimous. Falling in love with so many women so quickly, she would stress, was a classic symptom of what was known as Borderline Personality Disorder. He couldn't help himself, hence could not be held responsible for his actions, although they were terribly hurtful. Still, they needed to come to terms with the fact that she could not personally care for him twenty-four hours a day, but would always have to rely on others to assist. Since she had been ceded the responsibility for managing their household, and his glaring lack of self-control threatened to make the already delicate matter of balancing their sexual lives infinitely more difficult, it was time for him to wear a chastity device for which she alone would have the key-- a device that was comfortable and unobtrusive, but guaranteed to spare the three of them the humiliation of further indiscretions on his part. She would stress that this was not intended as a punishment, and that it would in any event be impossible for her to deny him sex, since Rita and Vickie would never agree to it.

She would hold one trump card in reserve. If Priscilla turned out to be more than a passing fancy, she was prepared to welcome her into the household so long as she accepted the same terms that she had worked out with Rita and Vickie. This amounted to demanding that Priscilla acknowledge Sarah as head of household, and agree to follow her diktats.

It'll be over my dead body, so get out while you can

Satisfied that this plan would give her a chance to redeem Ian and put their household on a firmer foundation, Sarah left her office for her daily hands-on assessment of the ward. If she was a little rushed, it was only because she wanted to buy a few extra minutes for her first outing with the breast pump.

'Cause you ain't woman enough to take my man

. . . .

Julia hated stakeouts.

Especially in the winter time.

You could stay anonymous by freezing your ass off, or you could paint a big bullseye on your vehicle by keeping the engine running, the exhaust fumes telling everybody for miles around that there was a doofus sitting in a parked car with the heater going full blast.

To make matters worse, students had been pulling out of the parking lot in a steady stream every since she arrived. She had already fired up the engine four times to move into the steadily diminishing cover. Making the best of the situation, she kept reminding herself that each time she moved, she was able to run the heater full bore for a few precious minutes.

Julia hated stakeouts.

Ian's apartment building featured a large parking lot-- large enough to have two separate entrances, like the building itself. Julia was parked across the street to the east, which gave her a clear view of the south entrance. She was acutely aware, however, that there were northern entrances to both the lot and the building, and she could not monitor either of them from her vantage point in the high school parking lot. So, there was a fifty-fifty chance that she was watching the wrong approach. If Ian's high-tech gadgetry turned out to be a bust, she could easily end up with egg all over her puss, and a very unhappy client clamoring for answers.

No one wanted to make Spats Belmondo unhappy.

That was the problem with having gangsters for clients. “Sorry”didn't feed that particular bulldog.

Julia's spirits picked up when the gaudy Lullaby Diaper Service truck lumbered into view. She turned on the monitor for the tracking device, and breathed a deep sigh of relief when it began contentedly to go CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP. She was even more delighted to discover that she was so close to the target that she could actually hear the signal change direction, the CHEEP giving way to a more muted CH..E..EP as the driver carried Ian's fresh load of diapers up to the second floor.

A couple of minutes later, he reemerged with a bag of dirty diapers, which he heaved into the rear of the truck. Firing up the engine, he pulled out of the lot, turned right onto the side street to the north, then right again to pass her as he drove off in the direction of the Minnesota River. Just another routine delivery.

Sitting in her car, Julia listened to the monitor. The monotonous, endlessly repetitive CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP threatening her sanity. She desperately wanted someone … anyone … to abscond with Ian's diapers, and put her out of her misery.

. . . .

“Well, this is a first.”

Lying on the floor, Ian was slowly shaking his head in disbelief.

Priscilla paused in the middle of changing his poopy diaper, tilting her head slightly as she looked down at her charge.

“Having my butt wiped by a beautiful young woman in a public restroom above a delicatessen just down the hall from a lawyer's office.”

He was proud of the fact that he was learning how to interpret Priscilla's facial expressions so quickly. The depth of his feelings for his bodyguard cum nanny had taken him completely by surprise.

“We've got time for a quickie,” she grinned impishly.

“No.” Ian reached up to caress her cheek, but he was shaking his head emphatically. “Pris, I don't know what the hell is wrong with me, but I do know this: quickies are not in our future. I want to make love to you … I'm seeing Kerr and Lancaster in the surf in From Here to Eternity.”

“Hmm. If we catch up with Irina in Athens, how about somewhere in the Greek isles? I could be Aphrodite rising from the sea.”

“She was nude, you know? No bathing suit.”

“I can do that, although we might scandalize the rest of your harem … well, not Vickie.”

“True,” Ian laughed; “not Vickie.”

“I think of her as my sister, you know? My slightly older sister.”

“That's good. I've been trying to figure out a way to make this work, and like with you trying to explain our relationship to your parents, I've been drawing blanks. Pris, what the hell are we going to do? Hell, for that matter, what the hell is wrong with you? My life is such a mess, you should get away from me; run as fast and as far away as you can get!”

“Nope, sorry, isn't going to happen. No getting around the fact that you're stuck with me.”

“I can't figure it out ...”

“You don't have to,” she interrupted. “Ian, in the very near future I am going to have a pretty awkward conversation with my parents. I've spent much of the day trying to sort out how to explain what's happened to them, and it's not easy. Quantico will help, and in time Mom will get it … how I've fallen for this man who brings out the animal in me, but at the same time is tapping into my need to nurture and protect. But Dad's gonna be a hard sell; maternal, he most definitely is not.”

“Not into changing diapers, I take it?”

“Nope … strictly women's work.”

“Definitely not a closet feminist!”

“Nope. How about you? Have you signed on for the revolution?”

“Charter member. Or at least Princess Poopy Pants is.”

“Oh, yes … the little girl that's keeping her head down somewhere inside your subconscious. One of these days, I'd like to meet her!”

“Take it up with your big sister. Vickie's planted something like a hypnotic command inside my head to shove me aside and let the Princess take over. Would you like to have a play date with the widdle baby girl?”

Ian batted his eyelids mischievously.

“I'm looking forward to babysitting her. Right this moment, though, I'm going to finish diapering you, then it's time to check in with Mom and see how the stakeout is going.”

. . . .

CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP …

CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP …

CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP …

CHE …. EEP, CHE …. EEP, CHE … EEP …

CHE …. EEP, CHE …. EEP, CHE … EEP …

Julia was half asleep, all but hypnotized by the calming repetition of the signal emanating from the tracking device, but she came fully awake when the pattern suddenly changed.

CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP …

They've taken the bait!

Julia was exultant, but bit down hard on her lip to get herself under control. Professor Grady had taught her how to read the signal. If you're stationary and the signal changes, it means that the target is in motion. If the beep shortens, it's getting closer … if it becomes more drawn out, it's moving away from you. Your receiver will hold onto the signal across a range of three miles, but don't panic if you lose it. Extend your search pattern, and it will reacquire the signal when you are once again less than three miles away …

Julia fired up the engine and pulled out of the lot, debating whether to go right or left, north or south …

Can't be south or east … the beep would have become stronger, not weaker, as the diapers went past me …

Julia turned right, and headed north toward the beltway, beyond which lay Richfield and, ultimately, Minneapolis. If the signal continued to weaken, she would turn west, into the wealthy suburbs that graced the southwestern corner of the Twin Cities. It had to be one or the other.

CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP …

CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP …

Closer!

Julia triumphantly pounded the steering wheel with her fist. The broad boulevard was passing through a residential district with large homes set back on big lots, so there was little traffic. There were no stop signs, and the lights were spaced every six to eight blocks.

CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP …

I'm right on top of it! Grady, you son of a bitch! I owe you big time, my daughter thinks you walk on water, and the Department wants me to investigate your ass. What the hell!

CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP …

CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP …

Julia was sitting at a red light, three cars in the lane ahead of her.

It's one of these three vehicles … the thieves are in one of these three vehicles!!!

. . . .

“Uh, Pris … um … should we really just waltz into their office like this? I mean, you're acting like you own the place!”

After finishing Ian's diaper change and helping him to redress, Priscilla had led him back downstairs to the delicatessen. Casually waving to the guys behind the counter, she had opened the door without knocking, and ushered him inside.

“Not to worry. Mom does own the building … well, technically, only a third of it, but that's enough to buy me a few privileges around here. Like using the telephone when I don't want my uncles upstairs to know what's going on. Where I draw the line is changing your dirty diapers in somebody else's office. That would be gross.”

“Glad to hear it, especially since we didn't bother to lock the door.”

Priscilla favored Ian with her most sultry smile while dialing her mother's car phone. Julia picked up on the first ring.

. . . .

“Hey, Mom! Just calling to see how the stakeout is coming. You staying awake?” Priscilla knew how much her mother hated stakeouts.

“Northbound on Nicollet, approaching the interstate. They took the bait, Pris; I'm fourth car in line at a red light, and the tracking device is in one of the three cars ahead of me. Have a listen.”

Julia held the phone up to the receiver.

CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP …

CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP …

“Julia, you're too close! Way too close!”

Ian had snatched the phone out of Priscilla's hand, and he was shouting to make himself heard over the racket in Julia's car. “Back off a quarter of a mile before they spot you in their mirrors!”

“Ian? What are you ...? Never mind ... It's a left turn, and I'll lose them on the interstate if I miss the light!”

“No, you won't. If they're heading for the junction and you take the wrong highway, the signal will change dramatically. Remember, with both vehicles on the move, it is far more sensitive than it was with you stationary in that parking lot.”

“But the rate of separation … I'll lose the signal in a matter of seconds ...”

“Doesn't matter. Reverse course at the first off ramp, and give it the gas. You'll reacquire it when you close in. Worst comes to worst, you set up a search pattern using city streets. Trust me about this, Julia … it's not my first rodeo.”

“Hold on! Light's changed … got to go!!”

Julia dropped the phone, and held her breath as the vehicles ahead of her crawled slowly through the slush and started down the on ramp. Hers was the last car to make the turn, and she got a good look at the three vehicles ahead of her.

Her mouth fell open in astonishment. Driving with one hand and keeping her eyes on the road, Julia felt around for the phone …

“Pris … Honey, are you still there?”

“Still here, Mom. Just giving my Secret Agent Man a hug and a kiss for a job well done.”

“Young lady, I will talk with you about Professor Grady later. Right now, I need you to call your father. It's unbelievable. I ran into two girls yesterday when traipsing around town in the wake of the Lullaby van. Well, guess what! They're driving a different car, but it's them! They're the diaper thieves! Call Dad, and tell him that I need a local address for the girl he ran through the DMV yesterday-- Tippi Anne Bjornsen of New Ulm!”

“No need to bother Dad.” Priscilla was laughing so hard that she could barely get the words out.

Listening in on the call, Ian was madly whispering into her ear, reminding her that he had entertained a Tippi Bjornsen during his office hour yesterday afternoon. It had to be the same person!

“Ian … um … Professor Grady … is pretty sure that he knows the young lady in question. She's a student, Mom-- and a sorority girl! So, congratulations! You've cracked the case, and now you get to inform Spats Belmondo that he's the victim of a typical sorority stunt pulled off by a bunch of enterprising juvenile delinquents!”

“Julia, head for sorority row,” Ian advised; “we'll meet you there. Pris can read them their rights, maybe place them under arrest. I'm thinking that a night in the slammer would probably do this crew some good!”

As soon as Julia hung up, Priscilla dialed her own headquarters. Her boss was still in his office, and Priscilla quickly brought him up to date on the latest bit of craziness occurring on the Row. When he finally finished laughing, the Chief looked up Tippi Anne Bjornsen, and quickly ascertained that she was a member in good standing of Zeta Alpha Pi, perhaps the most academically challenged of all the houses. For his part, he promised to await her call, then descend with enough squad cars, lights flashing and sirens blaring, to make the late night local news. He would personally be dumping the whole mess on the Dean's desk come the morning.

Still battling to keep a reasonably straight face, Priscilla called her mom and gave her the address for a sorority that she had officially visited on more than one occasion. They would meet her there, but first things first: she had to go back upstairs and change her embarrassed professor's wet and dirty diaper one more time.

Julia gripped the steering wheel hard. Sitting in Rita's office only hours earlier, Sarah had told her in no uncertain terms that her daughter was not only changing Ian's diapers but also bottle feeding him … treating him like a baby. And now Priscilla had just admitted in passing that she was changing his diaper-- said it as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Was she kinky? Were there signs that she and Herb had missed?

And where is this relationship headed? Where...?

Driving north on the interstate, approaching downtown, Julia resolved to have a very serious conversation with her daughter, the sole subject of said conversation being one Professor Ian Grady.

CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP …

CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP …

CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP …

Screaming, pounding the steering wheel in frustration, Julia paid no attention to the car in the lane to her left. But the driver was definitely paying attention to her, and Herb Kinnison did exactly what any sensible driver would do when finding himself going fifty-five miles an hour next to a rust bucket driven by a middle aged woman clearly in the throes of a nervous breakdown.

He floored it.

[Babypants]

On 3/2/2024 at 10:18 PM, Guilend said:

Ooh, that's a tough one. Probably A, second pick is D.

Good catch!

[Guilend]

18 minutes ago, Babypants said:

Good catch!

It's what I'd want to listen to lol.

[littlebopeeper]

"He floored it."  Great ending to a great chapter.  And someone needs to get the shovel away from Sarah, because when you're in a hole you need to stop digging.

[Babypants]

22 hours ago, Guilend said:

It's what I'd want to listen to lol.

Ian needs some tunes, and he's a Southern California street racer-- Hawthorne Blvd. and the Pacific Coast Hwy. in South Bay, Van Nuys Blvd. out in the Valley, and occasionally, Sunset Blvd. from West Hollywood to the beach.  Beachboys?  Jan & Dean?

4 hours ago, littlebopeeper said:

And someone needs to get the shovel away from Sarah, because when you're in a hole you need to stop digging.

Her mother will just buy her a bigger shovel.

[littlebopeeper]

On 3/5/2024 at 5:52 PM, Babypants said:

Ian needs some tunes, and he's a Southern California street racer-- Hawthorne Blvd. and the Pacific Coast Hwy. in South Bay, Van Nuys Blvd. out in the Valley, and occasionally, Sunset Blvd. from West Hollywood to the beach.  Beachboys?  Jan & Dean?

Considering Ian's love life, it's gotta be The Beach Boys and I Get Around.

[CCApril]

Deadman's Curve (Won't come back)

Is Sarah's mom that hard or does she only see the picture painted by her daughter? 

If a paddle won't work, get a cane?  I bet that thing would be found broken all the time.  

 

The spankings sent me down memory lane. We would bring my Mom nice wild flowers from the surrounding farm land in MN. We learned that when giving your Mom pussy willows as part of the bouquet that they need to be short, very short. Nothing like being spanked by your own gift!

[littlebopeeper]

9 hours ago, CCApril said:

Deadman's Curve (Won't come back)

Surf City?  Drag City?

Just not The Little Old Lady from Pasadena.

[Babypants]

On 3/6/2024 at 11:18 PM, CCApril said:

Is Sarah's mom that hard or does she only see the picture painted by her daughter? 

Sarah's parents had a D/s relationship, and Sarah is very much her mother's daughter, but without her experience and hard earned wisdom.  Sofia made every important decision for her family, but that doesn't mean that she was going to forbid hubby to go fishing.  Did she start out with so pragmatic a view of the relationship, or did she start out as badly as Sarah and get better at it over time?  Sarah's inflexibility (no, you can't go fishing!) is simply not practical, and Ian's acts of rebellion are all consciously designed to drive that point home.  He's content to have Sarah make all of the big decisions, and he'll eat whatever she puts on the table at breakfast and dinner, but he will see to lunch himself, thank you very much.

Have you noticed that Priscilla is also dominant?  She is wife and mother, but wouldn't dream of telling Ian that he can't have a pastrami sandwich.  And when Thursday morning turns into Thursday night, they are going to go out and get drunk together-- at her insistence!  How ironic that Priscilla could be Sarah's role model, but only if she doesn't see Priscilla as a threat.  Perhaps Sofia will figure it out, and steer her daughter into a safe harbor.  Or perhaps not.  Time will tell. 

[littlebopeeper]

On 3/8/2024 at 9:41 AM, Babypants said:

How ironic that Priscilla could be Sarah's role model, but only if she doesn't see Priscilla as a threat

Priscilla believes that Sarah will stay the course, but I'm not so sure.  Sarah wants to rule her household with an iron fist, but she will soon learn that it will never happen.  The head of security (Priscilla) will be the ultimate decision maker. 

[CDfm]

Well dang it took me long enough to get caught back up again.  I got behind a bit due to work demands.  Then I thought that because your chapters are a bit longer and definitely more intense I would catch up on some of the other stories and catch up on this one after.  Well that didn’t work because I had to take a trip to Denver for a week and that put everything back even farther.  Well I am back and taking the time to get caught back up.  
Happy belated birthday!  I thought I was the old fart around here but I am just a babe in comparison.  My hat’s off to you for all your hard work with all the writing. Being at least ten years your junior I know I wouldn’t have the energy or drive. 
Finally a bit of commitment on the story.  I knew Ian had the potential to get himself into some trouble thinking with his little head.  He did manage to accomplish that.  I do believe that Sarah might have overreacted just a little.  If she wants an actual relationship with Ian I don’t think that total control is the way to go.  Even if Ian has expressed his desire to not have to have any responsibilities, I still think he is going to have to resist some of these restrictions.  As an example, he has planned the night of drinking.  I am sure at least in part due to his forced abstinence.  He is a hardened combat veteran and then trained in tradecraft.  I can’t imagine him just giving up that type of total control over all of his life. 
Awesome job  with the story.  I’m not going to promise anything I can’t be sure to keep, but rest assured I will be reading all that comes eventually. 

[Babypants]

JUST THE FACTS, MA'AM

When Vickie used her key to enter Sarah's apartment, she wasn't quite sure what to expect. She knew that it would be more than an hour before Sarah got home, but it was possible that Ian and Priscilla would be waiting for her. It all depended on how the hunt for the diaper thieves was going.

The apartment was empty. Deciding that she was hungry as well as thirsty, Vickie began rummaging through Sarah's refrigerator, but she found nothing to her liking. The apartment felt as empty as it looked, the only sign of life the chair ominously sitting in the center of the living room. It didn't take a great deal of imagination to realize that this was where Sarah would be administering a spanking, a paddling, or a caning to correct her bad behavior, as well as Ian's. Shrugging her shoulders, Vickie decided to venture upstairs to Ian's apartment. She knew where Sarah kept the spare key, and she knew that his frig and pantry would be a lot more promising. Since they would be packing everything up on Friday, there would be no harm done no matter what she chose to eat and drink.

Ian's frig was a treasure chest filled with mysterious delights. She was familiar with prosciutto, and had had her share of Genoa salami, but the man had a love affair with stuffed olives and peppers that clearly did not start in Minnesota. Not for the first time, she wondered where a guy whose car was buried under a snowbank even found this stuff.

And what's this?

Vickie took the lid off a container with something called Tzatziki, and sniffed the creamy white contents. She had no idea what it was, but it smelled good, so she was willing to give it a try.

Made in Greece. Figures …

Prowling around in a cupboard, she found a flatbread that looked like it would go well with the gunk.

Pita. Isn't that Lebanese, or something?

Diving into the refrigerator a second time, she came away with a nicely chilled bottle of rose.

Val Verde Winery … Del Rio, Texas. Huh? Who knew they made wine in Texas?

Looking around, she spotted a bottle of deep, dark red wine from Jordan squirreled up against the frig, with a lovely set of Waterford wine glasses keeping it company. She grabbed two, thinking to try both wines after she camped out on the living room floor.

Fine food and drink, so long as you don't mind roughing it …

Vickie had no way to know that Ian had cultivated the habit of eating and drinking well in the jungles of southeast Asia.

Guy's been everywhere …

Getting down on the floor, leaning back against the couch, Vickie grabbed the phone and called Sarah.

. . . .

Sarah reached over to turn off the pump, and disconnected the lead from her left breast. She had given it fifteen minutes per teat, just as the lady running the infants and maternity wear shop at the mall had instructed. And there was no getting around the fact that having a machine slurping away at your boobs felt downright weird. She wondered how a woman was ever expected to feel comfortable with so ridiculous a contraption.

Probably invented by a man …

Sarah answered the phone on the first ring, her sensuous breasts not yet returned to the prison of her functional but plain bra. She made a mental note to add maternity bras to the trio's next shopping trip. Sitting at her desk on the third floor of a busy urban hospital … nude from the waist up …

She felt ridiculous.

“Hello.”

“Mommy, it's me. I'm at Ian's. There's no one here, and no one downstairs. I'm guessing that the diaper thieves showed up, and that he's chasing them down. Has he called?”

“No, baby girl, not yet. How's your diapee holding up? Are you wet, poopy, or both?”

“I'm a little wet, Mommy, but okay for now. Will you be home soon?”

“As soon as Heidi comes in, I'll be coming straight home. You have been a very naughty girl, and you deserve a paddling. If I find you sitting quietly on my living room floor, like a good baby, you will receive ten swats. If you are anywhere else … twenty. Do you understand me, baby girl?”

“Yeth, Mommy, I unnerstan. I be good, Mommy, really! Pwese don't paddle me hard!”

Sarah hung up. Training Vickie was going to be an incredible challenge, and she was eagerly looking forward to it.

. . . .

Am I overdoing it, Vickie wondered. Nah … Sarah is really lapping this mommy shit up!

Choices … choices …

Vickie reached for the bottle of rose. It would go nicely with her Mediterranean hors d'oeuvres; the Jordanian red, she reflected, was best saved for later: a makeshift anesthetic was preferable to no anesthetic at all.

Besides, she was extremely fond of a well turned out, rich red wine.

. . . .

All in all, Ian reflected, it had gone quite smoothly. When it turned out that they were the first to arrive at the sorority house, on the spur of the moment he had asked Priscilla to drop him off in front. He proposed to stand in the driveway while she parked, lights off, on a nearby side street that offered a clear view of the property. When Tippi and her friend showed up and their brake lights came on, that would be her cue to charge in with siren blaring and lights flashing.

The skeptical look on Priscilla's face told Ian that she didn't think much of his plan, but rather than argue with him, she settled for sensibly suggesting that he find a patch of light on the driveway and stand in it. He was wearing dark clothing, she pointed out, and might not be spotted before he was run over. The resulting paperwork would be a nightmare.

Ian had grinned, and stolen a quick kiss. Whatever else they were, Priscilla Canon and Ian Grady were, as they say south of the border, simpatico.

Narrowly avoiding a brush with the bumper of Cindy Carlson's car, Ian played the innocent bystander while Priscilla, supported by two other officers, carried out the arrests under the watchful eye of campus police chief Walt Mischof. Julia's loudly beeping transmitter made it clear to all that the stolen diapers were in the trunk of Cindy's car-- and made it patently clear to Tippi Bjornsen that the jig was well and truly up. Both girls confessed, and much to the delight of a steadily growing crowd of frat boys from the surrounding houses, were cuffed and hauled off to spend the night in a cold and drafty cell. Arraignment, and a pleading before a municipal judge, would come in the morning.

Unless Ian could shut it all down first.

At the house mother's urging, the Chief set up a temporary command post in her office. From there, with Bernice Miller's approval, he ordered his officers to fan out and thoroughly search the public areas for the stolen diapers. These were quickly located in a corner of the basement, most of them still in their unopened Lullaby Diaper Service bags. Once they were photographed, the substantial hoard of baby and adult diapers were hauled into the dining room, where in due course the sorority would be assembled to confront the stolen fruits of their collective labor.

From Ian's point of view, it was fortunate that a time consuming search for accessories to the crime next got under way. The otherwise bored cadre of campus cops (it was a Wednesday night, after all) were tasked to interview each and every one of the sorority house's fifty odd residents, not all of whom happened to be home at the moment. For example, Janis Marsden showed up when the proceedings were barely under way, praying that her heavily diapered state would go unnoticed. In fact, on a night when the campus cops were breaking up a gang of diaper thieves who had been terrorizing the city (tune in to your local news at ten, brought to you by WPPP's very own Lyle Gunderson and Amy Kinkaid), it was Janis' sheer bad luck that a young woman waddling like an overgrown toddler was going to be noticed by everybody. Cracking under the pressure of a roomful of unforgiving stares, Janis had broken down and confessed. Having been placed under arrest for her daring theft of hospital diapers, she was currently being detained in her room. No one had got around to removing her diaper and baby pants, but it had to be done: the hardened criminals with whom Janis would soon be sharing a cell could use such deadly weapons to unleash a murderous rampage. After due consideration, Chief Mischof opted to delegate the task to Officer Canon on the reasonable assumption that she was the only female officer present with a track record of changing wet and possibly poopy adult diapers.

This left Bernice, the Chief, Ian and Julia sitting around a coffee table in Bernice's office. For Ian and Julia, the moment was awkward in the extreme. Ian had made love to Julia's daughter mere hours earlier, and hoped to make love to her again before the night was out. What was one supposed to say to the Mom at moments like this? For her part, Julia had absolutely no idea what to say to an undercover government agent whom she suspected was banging her daughter. Wisely, they decided to ignore one another.

I'd like to take Priscilla home, but that might be a tad awkward, given that she lives with her parents …

I wonder if he speaks Farsi … shipping him off to Iran would at least buy us some breathing space ...

I most definitely do not want to take her to one of those seedy motels up the street. Probably half the girls in these houses lost their virginity in those dumps. Wonder if they give a discount to sorority girls scalping members of the faculty …

There's got to be something we can arrest him for … is it against the law to change his diapers in a public setting? Oh, damn it, wait … my daughter is the one changing him!

“Sorry about all this, Bernice,” Chief Mischof said sympathetically. “If the Dean catches it on the news at ten, your visit to his office tomorrow is going to be pretty awkward. Hope you don't lose your charter.”

Bernice shook her head in despair. “I don't understand any of this,” she lamented; “stealing diapers … what is the matter with these girls? I swear, Walt, I've been doing this for twenty-five years, and this is the worst it's ever been. Half these girls shouldn't even be here; they're wasting their time, and their parents money. And speaking of diapers ...”

Bernice shifted in her chair. “Professor, are you all right? I mean … do you need your diaper changed?” She didn't know the source of Ian's incontinence, but the bulge in his pants made it clear what he was wearing in the way of underwear.

“I'm fine for the moment, but thank you for asking.”

Ian decided to seize the moment. “Chief, what comes next? Priscilla … er … Officer Canon tells me that a fine, a hundred hours of community service, and a term of probation are par for the course in matters like this.”

“She's right, Professor. The DA will shake his head, ask me why I can't keep the lid on over here, and give them the proverbial slap on the wrist. Gareth has political ambitions, and sending a bunch of sorority girls to the workhouse isn't going to win him any votes in the suburbs.”

“Makes sense, but in this case it won't work. The injured party is Spats Belmondo, and he will see a light sentence as a calculated insult to his dignity. If he lets this slide, he'll lose face with his crew, and with the other capi. So, he won't let it slide.”

“Professor Grady is right, Chief; when Spats hired me, he made it clear that he wanted to handle this matter without police interference. These girls are in real danger.”

“And yet you took the case.” The Chief was frowning. “Why did you do that?”

“Professor Grady and I are on the same page here. If Spats had found these girls on his own, he would have fed them into a wood chipper, feet first. We collaborated to bring the police in, which buys us some time. Now, it's up to the DA to come up with a punishment that Spats will be prepared to live with.”

“Precisely,” Ian agreed. “Get the DA on the phone, and tell him to haul his ass over here. I'll tell him how we're going to play this.”

“How about telling me first.”

“Sure. The whole sorority is going to volunteer to work as candy stripers at the hospital, and to keep at it until they graduate. The fine is going to be stiff enough to cause some real pain, and Spats is going to be generously compensated for his time and trouble. But the icing on the cake? Since Zeta Alpha Pi has a hard on for diapers, they can spend the rest of their time here wearing them, and using them. And Lullaby Diaper Service will be supplying them, which guarantees Spats a tidy little profit going forward. He's a businessman, and as such won't be inclined to murder his own customers.”

“Interesting. I'll make the call. Not sure the DA will bite, but I'll give it a try.”

“Let me deal with him. I can be very persuasive.”

Oh, this ought to be good, Julia thought.

“Drop my name into the conversation, and suggest that he call your counterpart downtown. What do you think, Julia? Will that do the trick?”

“Professor Grady has friends in very high places,” she admitted in the most neutral tone of voice she could muster. “Very high.”

“Once he's here?” Ian had a huge grin on his face. “I'll make him an offer that he can't refuse!”

. . . .

Pulling into her garage, Rita was on a mission. The first order of business was the four remaining breast pumps. One would stay in the trunk to go to the office, and a second would end up in her bedroom. The most fitting home for the remaining two, she decided, was the empty closet in the third bedroom that they were converting into a nursery for Ian and Vickie. She liked the idea of hooking Vickie up when she was lounging in her crib, but when it came to finding a way for their baby girl to pump at work, she was completely stumped. With luck, Sarah would have the answer.

Dragging the boxes into the foyer one by one, Rita hung up her coat and kicked off her shoes. She visited her bedroom first, saving the nursery for last. But when she opened its door, she nodded in satisfaction. It was a tight fit, but with the two cribs set back to back in the center of the room, there was just enough space for the changing table on one wall, and the dresser and chest of drawers on the other. It seemed symbolically fitting, almost a sacred ritual given the solemnity of the moment, that Vickie's two breast pumps ended up on the closet floor.

Returning to the kitchen, Rita opened her liquor cabinet, choosing to mark the occasion with a glass of Courvoisier, the expensive cognac being her most cherished indulgence. Then she strolled into the living room, studying her walls and thinking about Ian's art work, the boldness of its colors.

He must like Vermeer …

Looking around her living room, Rita sadly shook her head. The empty walls, the usual furnishings laid out in the usual way-- it was all so dull.

As dull as my whole life. Ian? The guy's been everywhere. And me? One trip out of the country, the old 'If It's Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium' tour … nine countries in eighteen days, and I didn't even have an affair with the tour guide. But I did fall in love with Vermeer … there's that.

“The Alvar is going directly over the couch,” she said out loud. “All that red ...”

She took a sip of her drink.

“But on his income, how could he possibly have afforded a Chagall?”

She thought that it would look nice in her bedroom.

“We definitely are going to need a bigger house! A much bigger nursery … hell, with four of us and the babies … we're going to need bigger everything!”

Rita had started to peruse the real estate listings, concentrating on her dream home-- an honest to goodness mansion on the shores of Lake Minnetonka. With their four combined incomes, the only limit to what they could afford was her imagination.

. . . .

When Sarah finally made it home, she was disappointed to discover that Ian was still not there, but relieved to find Vickie sitting in the middle of the living room floor. She was going to try out her new paddle on Vickie's shapely ass, but with a diaper rash in play, she was afraid that the threatened twenty swats would be way over the top. Ten swats would do nicely.

And seeing that Vickie had already stripped down to her blouse and diaper cover, and was sitting with arms outstretched waiting for a hug, she decided to go a bit easier on her rear end than originally planned.

“Did you miss your mommy, baby girl,” Sarah cooed.

“Mama,” Vickie answered; “binkie, Mama … binkie!”

She was pouting like an adorable little toddler. Vickie had spent several minutes in Ian's bathroom, comparing pouts and frowns in front of the mirror. She concluded that pouting, which she had long practiced to good effect with her various boyfriends and one night stands, was her best choice.

“Ah, you're so cute,” Sarah oohed and awed as she reached into her pocket; “yes you are, yes you are! Open wide, baby girl … here comes your binkie!”

Vickie happily accepted the pacifier, and began enthusiatically sucking …

Coat this thing with crème de menthe, and it wouldn't be bad at all. Definitely beats chewing on a pencil …

Sarah left the room just long enough to fetch her breast pump, and with it the cane and paddle. Vickie's eyes went wide when she eyeballed Sarah attacking one of the throw cushions on her couch with the cane.

“It feels like all it takes is a flick of the wrist,” she muttered, but loud enough for Vickie to hear.

SWISH … CRACK!!

SWISH … CRACK!!

Sitting down in the chair that she had used to punish Ian the night before, she centered the cushion on her lap, raised her new paddle on high, and repeatedly brought it down on the cushion with a resounding …

THWACK …

THWACK …

THWACK …

Satisfied with her choice, Sarah stared hard at Vickie, and stabbed her thigh with her middle finger. Vickie obediently crawled over and, using Sarah's legs for support, climbed to her feet.

Sarah first unfastened and removed the baby girl's blouse. Taking the key from her pocket, she then reached out to unlock her diaper cover, which she slid down to her ankles. Vickie's pink baby pants came next, and finally her heavy diaper, which was only slightly damp and unfortunately poop free.

The laxatives in your breast milk will make you go potty in your diapee, baby girl … hmm … should I add a diuretic as well?

Unbidden, Vickie eased herself over Sarah's lap, her legs helplessly pinned by the heavy canvas shackling her ankles. Sarah grasped her baby girl's right hand, and pinned it to the base of her spine, then wrapped her legs tight around Vickie's calves. With her bottom protruding and her body expertly immobilized, Vickie was finally ready for her paddling.

Rubbing lazy circles around Vickie's cheeks and lightly slapping her thighs, Sarah took her time with the preliminaries. When she was finally ready, she raised the paddle on high, and brought it down, but not with full force.

Thwack … Thwack …

Each butt cheek received a measured blow, and then Sarah began Vickie's punishment in earnest.

THWACK!!

THWACK!!

THWACK!!

THWACK!!

Vickie moaned, then screamed into her pacifier, her body contorting with the pain. Sarah had not spared the skin already red with diaper rash, which was now an ugly, livid crimson shade.

Four more strokes, delivered more gently, finished the first part of Vickie's punishment. Now, it was time for her upper thighs to feel the weight of Sarah's palm. Nor did she hold back, one heavy blow after another raining down upon the exposed flesh. Only when she was finished did Sarah release Vickie's imprisoned right arm, so that the wailing toddler could slide off her lap and onto the carpet.

Vickie was on the threshold of a massive orgasm, her entire body seemingly on fire. Struggling to her knees, she turned wide eyed to face Sarah, sucking mindlessly on her pacifier, desperate for relief.

“Mommy,” she whispered, “make me come … please make me come. Your fingers … anything … make me come!!”

Sarah looked down at her baby girl in disbelief, then leaned over to run her fingers between her thighs. Sure enough. She was wet, and when Sarah grazed her clit, Vickie moaned like a wounded animal, a sound born at once of anguish and pleasure.

“Please,” she whispered again.

“Baby girl,” she said sternly, “I want you to roll over on your back and stretch out. Do it now!”

When Vickie obeyed, Sarah grabbed the thick hospital diaper, which she knew could not be defeated by the baby's questing fingers, and slid it under her tortured bottom. Bringing it up between Vickie's legs, she efficiently pinned it back in place before pulling up her baby pants and diaper cover.

Vickie offered no resistance, but her body shuddered when she heard the lock click home. In the silence of Sarah's living room, it sounded like a thunderclap.

“There,” Sarah said in a soothing voice. “Now, I want you to crawl over to the corner, get up on your knees, and press your nose against the wall. Naughty babies need time outs as well as spankings. Stay there, and don't move while I prepare your ba bas.”

Sarah retreated to the bathroom, and found her water pills. Two of these, in bottles already laced with fast acting laxatives, would guarantee Vickie a very wet and very messy night. But Sarah would not be changing her in the morning. She was going to send her naughty little girl straight to Rita's office, and let her do the honors.

. . . .

When the District Attorney walked through the door with his bodyguard, it was safe to say that Gareth Q. Ballstrom was not a happy camper. He had managed to avoid the local news crews on the way in, but he did not fancy his chances on the way out. He knew a FUBAR when he saw one, and with the next election less than a year away, bad publicity he did not need. The bottom line was that he needed something good to feed the press when he walked out the door.

It was hard for Ian to keep a straight face. He put the DA in his late thirties, with a lanky frame and chiseled jaw straight out of central casting. A three hundred dollar haircut, and enough hair gel to keep things under control in a class five hurricane, would go hand and glove with the practiced insincerity of the professional politician's smile.

Ignoring the others, the DA marched up to where Ian was sitting.

Ian did not bother to get up.

“You must be Grady,” he barked. “The Chief tells me that I need to listen to what you have to say. I'm listening.”

“Take a seat.” Ian was smiling graciously as he pointed at the lone empty chair in the room. “Chief Mischof will bring you up to speed, then we'll figure out what to do next.”

The Chief neatly summarized the crime, the arrests to date, and the recovery of the stolen articles in a public area of the house that they had permission to search. The evidence would be admissible in court, and they had post-Miranda confessions from two of the girls that would also hold up. His officers were currently interviewing everyone else in the house, and in due course would haul them into the dining room for a heart to heart talk about their immediate futures. His immediate objectives were to get permission to search all their rooms, and to gauge who else had been actively engaged in the planning and execution of this conspiracy.

“Now let me get this straight,” Ballstrom snorted when the Chief finished his report. “You dragged me over here in the middle of the night because a bunch of sorority girls have been running around town stealing diapers off of people's front porches? What am I supposed to do? Go before the judge in the morning, and urge him to lock up these hard cases and throw away the key? Puh … lese!”

“Spats Belmondo.” Julia spoke up for the first time. And I'm ...”

“I know who you are, Missus Canon. Your firm handled my sister's divorce two years ago. She was pleased with the results. What's Belmondo got to do with this?”

“He owns Lullaby Diaper Service, which is the injured party here. Spats hired me to find the thieves, and then report back to him so that he could handle the matter privately. I'll leave that part of it to your imagination … you know what Spats is like. Anyway, the Professor and I hatched a plan to have the police make the pinch, and it worked. Now, the trick is to find a punishment that will make both Spats and the judge happy. Ian has the solution; your job will be getting the judge to go along. Professor?”

Ian took over, but when he got to the part where the girls would be wearing diapers for the rest of their university days, the DA climbed angrily to his feet.

“Are you nuts, Grady? How the hell do you expect me to sell this nonsense to the unlucky bastard who draws this case in the morning?”

“Well, you could bring a wood chipper into the courtroom and show him exactly how it works,” Ian scoffed. “But it would be easier simply to ask the judge to endorse a plea agreement that the girls will be affirming before they go to bed tonight. The four of us will sell them on the idea, and you sell the judge. Then you can campaign on a law and order platform, get reelected, and we all live happily ever after. Oh, and my friends back East will remember you kindly, if and when you choose to run for higher office.”

The DA grinned wolfishly, pleased that the professor had got to the point without too much beating around the bush.

“Professor, you've got a deal. The fine and community service is easy, but you have to sell these girls on the diapers or I won't bring it up. If they agree to it, the judge will as well. He's also up for election in the fall.”

The two men shook hands, and Ballstrom left to grab some free publicity from the local news hounds. Ian fully expected him to tap into his well honed sense of righteous indignation, and preach the need to bring a little law and order to the notorious denizens of Fraternity Row.

. . . .

“So, what's going to happen to me?”

Janis Marsden was sitting cross-legged on her bed, head bowed, utterly disconsolate. But she was no longer wearing the hospital diaper and vinyl pants; these had been set aside with the diapers in her backpack.

“Well,” Priscilla began, “you were apprehended in the possession of stolen property. So, at some point you will be taken downtown and processed. You'll spend the night in a cell, and in the morning you'll be taken before a judge. If you plead not guilty, the prosecuting attorney will request that you make bail, which means that your parents will have to come to terms with a bail bondsman. If you plead guilty and agree to whatever punishment the DA's office seeks, you'll probably avoid a return trip to jail.”

“It was all so stupid,” Janis sniffled. She was wiping away her tears with the back of her hand.

“Janis,” Priscilla cautioned, “although I've read you your rights, I want to remind you that anything you say to me can be admitted into evidence if I'm called to testify. Remember, you don't have to say a word to me, or to anyone else. Just because Cindy and Tippi have already confessed doesn't mean that you have to as well.”

“But I want to because … because it was all so stupid … the usual crap that goes on up and down the Row all year long.”

“And yet it was very well organized,” Priscilla countered, hinting at the argument the Assistant District Attorney would surely make before the judge. “Methodically researching the diaper service van's stops beforehand … using at least two cars to orchestrate the theft across a series of outings … playing Fox and Hounds with a highly experienced private detective, and getting the best of her.”

Priscilla shook her head sorrowfully. “This was a conspiracy, Janis, and you were a participant. Even if you weren't physically stealing the diapers, you were an accessory both before and after the fact. And we haven't even got to the hospital yet … the betrayal of trust. Did you ever stop and think about how disappointed everyone would be with you if you got caught?”

“Tippi … Cindy … Melanie … they said that it was just a few lousy diapers, and that if I got caught, I should just say that it was a sorority stunt. They all thought that they'd probably help me carry the diapers out to my car!”

“Well, they were wrong, and here we are. So, get a grip on yourself. We're going downstairs to hear what Chief Mischof has to say.”

Priscilla made a mental note to track down Melanie. She appeared to be another one of the ringleaders.

. . . .

“We have fifty two girls in residence,” Bernice summarized. She was looking down at the print out of the roster in her lap. “We had forty seven at dinner, so making allowance for Cindy, Tippi and Janis, nearly a full house. Only two are still out and about.”

“Probably scalp hunting,” she muttered under her breath.

“And you're sure of the breakdown?” The Chief had asked her to run down the list, and tag the names of those most likely to be involved in the planning and execution of the heist.

“Supremely so,” she replied, her eyes flashing. “Walt, in my job you take the measure of your charges, try to figure out which ones are okay and which ones are trouble. Right now, this house is top heavy with Legacies, and they're all sitting on the Council. Cindy is currently the chair, Tippi a mover and shaker, and Janis a go along to get along type. I'm sorry that she's caught up in this. Her mother did not want her to join ZAP, and went along with it only when Janis agreed to do volunteer work at the hospital. Marilyn is going to be furious.”

“And you're sure about this Melanie Wilson,” the Chief pressed.

“One of Cindy's ladies in waiting? Yes, I'm sure.”

“Janis' mother is Marilyn Marsden? Recruitment Services International?”

Ian had not been paying much attention to the back and forth between Bernice and the Chief, but his head had snapped up at the mention of Marilyn's name. He vaguely recalled that Janis' name had come up in a passing exchange between Priscilla and Marilyn earlier in the afternoon in his office, but once again his attention had been elsewhere. Between the afterglow of making love to Priscilla, and the upcoming calls with Donnie and Irina, his attention had most definitely been elsewhere.

“Yes,” Bernice agreed. “Do you know her?”

“She's my agent,” he admitted with an embarrassed grin. “A nice lady … and she's gonna be pissed, if you'll pardon my French.”

"It's quite all right, Professor.” Bernice quite liked Ian's down to earth demeanor. “We speak it a lot around here!”

“So, you've gone and hired an agent?” Walt was relieved to hear it. “Guess this means that you won't be needing Officer Canon to chaperon you around campus anymore.”

Ian stole a sideways glance at Julia. Rapidly running the pros and cons of the opening the Chief had just given him through his mind, he opted to tiptoe through the tulips.

“Sorry, Chief, but I'm stealing her from you, at least for a while. I put the arm on a guy at Langley who owes me a favor or two, and Pris is now Quantico bound-- the embassy security training program. Don't know if she'll want to stay with your department when she returns, but the prospect of a substantial raise might influence her decision.”

“Well, I'll be damned.” Walt was shaking his head, trying to process what he had just heard. “Quantico, eh? That's quite a feather in her cap. I'll see what I can do.”

“Thanks … and sorry, Julia. She's planning to tell you and your husband tonight or tomorrow morning, depending upon when we all get out of here. Please don't spoil the surprise.”

“I'll try not to.” Julia nodded her head, thinking it over.

She'll be over a thousand miles away, and right now? Maybe that's not such a bad idea.

“Here's what I want to do,” the Chief announced. "We'll bring the girls down to the dining room in fours, starting with the ones on Bernice's list that seem least likely to be involved. We'll seat them at the back, and watch their facial reactions when we bring the most likely suspects in. That'll tell us a lot.”

The Chief stood up, and headed out the door, leaving the others to follow. But Ian lagged behind. Catching Bernice's eye, he mimicked making a phone call.

“Go ahead,” she whispered as she turned to follow Julia to the dining room.

. . . .

“Getting a lot of calls from this area code, but I don't recognize the number. That you, Street?”

“In the flesh. Sorry to disturb you at home.”

In reality, Donnie Freeman was saying that he was free to talk, and Ian that he was not under duress. Years earlier, they had devised a series of casual phrases that they could use over the phone, each one of them containing a code word.

“Got an interesting one for you. Vincent Belmondo, otherwise known as Spats Belmondo. A local Mafia capo. I'm looking for petals and thorns, not later than tomorrow morning.”

“Not a problem. Do we have any interest?”

“It's possible we owe the guy a favor. Do you remember Antonio?”

“Ah, yes! I thought the name sounded familiar. A distant relative, perhaps?”

“Hard to say. Vinnie's niece speaks Italian straight out of the streets of Naples, but Antonio sounded Catania born and bred. But a lot of those families headed north before they came here.”

“Interesting. And I've got one for you. From the looks of it, your fiancee is following in her mother's footsteps.”

“How so?”

“She went shopping earlier today … used a credit card in a sex shop in the northern suburbs. Think she's into edible underwear?”

“Donnie, FYI? She wears granny panties. I'm hoping that Vickie will rub off on her, so this might be a good omen.”

“The Director's offer still stands: honeymoon for you and your various loves in the Greek isles, all expenses paid. But he wants a blow by blow description of your sex life in return … a morale boost, so to speak, for a joint that's down in the dumps these days.”

“Too bad that I don't know any good restaurants in Teheran, but I don't. Sorry.”

“Wouldn't dream of asking you for a recommendation, Street. It's not in the cards. Get back to you in the morning. Ciao.”

“Ciao,” Ian replied, hanging up the phone with a heavy sigh.

[Bluebird67]

One of the best chapters so far in one of my favourite stories! I am definitely looking forward to seeing how Tippi reacts to the proposed deal…

[Babypants]

On 3/19/2024 at 12:38 PM, Bluebird67 said:

I am definitely looking forward to seeing how Tippi reacts to the proposed deal…

Thanks for the comment.  I wish more people would take the time, because it's interacting with readers that makes the writing experience on this site so enjoyable.  Tippi's role in this saga is going to get larger as we move along, with a serious (and hopefully unanticipated) twist in scene 9 of AARDVARK.  

[Guilend]

You never mentioned if her diaper was wet or messy by the time she was changed back into big girl panties lol. 

Poor Vickie, all so worked up. 

[CDfm]

Well it didn’t take me a month to get a reply in so that’s something.  
good chapter.  I guess the girls are going to become much more involved with those diapers than they had initially thought. 

[Babypants]

On 3/20/2024 at 8:35 PM, Guilend said:

You never mentioned if her diaper was wet or messy by the time she was changed back into big girl panties lol. 

Poor Vickie, all so worked up. 

It's safe to say that Vickie is going to have a wet and messy night, perhaps the first of many.  Her big girl panties are history, but methinks Sarah and Vickie are redefining their long relationship in a way that will be to the benefit of both.  Stay tuned.

On 3/20/2024 at 10:34 PM, CDfm said:

 I guess the girls are going to become much more involved with those diapers than they had initially thought. 

Kimberly is a Senior, so her sentence will run about six months.  Poor Tippi, a first year student, is staring diaper chastity in the face for the next three and a half years!  But, as we shall see here and in AARDVARK. she is a very resourceful young lady.

[Babypants]

Quickie historical quiz:

Mafia dons have been treated like royalty in books and movies alike, but the foot soldiers who actually do the work for the families never seem to take center stage.  Well, one Mafia foot soldier has an important place in history.  His name is:

A.  Nate Diamond

B.  Mannie Goldstein

C.  Mark Jade

D.  Jack Ruby

 

[Guilend]

D

[littlebopeeper]

Fantastic chapter!  You have to wonder how far down the rabbit hole Vickie will go before she realizes that Sarah isn't playing games.  And the DA.  What a hoot.  Was he inspired by California's Governor Hair Gel?

On 3/23/2024 at 8:23 PM, Guilend said:

D

D (this one was a slam dunk)

[Guilend]

1 hour ago, littlebopeeper said:

Fantastic chapter!  You have to wonder how far down the rabbit hole Vickie will go before she realizes that Sarah isn't playing games.  And the DA.  What a hoot.  Was he inspired by California's Governor Hair Gel?

D (this one was a slam dunk)

I'll be honest. I guessed lol