AN HOMAGE TO VINCENT VEGA, SEASON TWO SCENE 55 (THE PLOT THICKENS)

[CCApril]

I have finally caught up!  Ian needed to come clean on his past. Too many super smart women in his life that can sniff out any lies. Not sure if a blow out drinking binge will make the point with Sarah. Maybe sharing his concerns before pulling the pin on the grenade of a huge act of rebellion. Can't see how she would more be more willing to talk after then before. 

How did Ian make decisions before? He had to have been making them while traveling all around for the Agency. Did Sahara and the others push this out? Was he always on that ragged edge?

How did Ian stop from burning it all down after he realized his parents were killed on purpose?

Great story! 

[Babypants]

On 1/20/2024 at 7:00 PM, littlebopeeper said:

Great twist.  Is Vickie gonna "retire" once Ian starts making the big bucks?

Is Vickie going to "retire?"  Definitely, but your idea is far more intriguing than what I have planned for her.  I'll have to give this one some serious thought.  Thanks!

[littlebopeeper]

14 hours ago, Babypants said:

Is Vickie going to "retire?"  Definitely, but your idea is far more intriguing than what I have planned for her.  I'll have to give this one some serious thought.  Thanks!

Hope you will run with my idea!  It's really flattering to think that a reader can influence how a story is playing out.

[Babypants]

On 1/20/2024 at 9:33 PM, CCApril said:

How did Ian stop from burning it all down after he realized his parents were killed on purpose?

Thanks for some great questions.  To take this one first, he just doesn't know where to light the match.  But he is carrying a matchbook with him at all times.

[Guilend]

I wonder why Sarah doesn't just straight up tell Vickie that she's not to touch herself instead of adding boosters? I'm guessing when she can't get off through her diaper anymore she'll figure out the real reason and probably have a tantrum lol

[Babypants]

On 1/20/2024 at 9:33 PM, CCApril said:

Not sure if a blow out drinking binge will make the point with Sarah. Maybe sharing his concerns before pulling the pin on the grenade of a huge act of rebellion. Can't see how she would more be more willing to talk after then before. 

From Ian's POV, the problem isn't that Sarah doesn't make her desires clear.  It's that she won't listen.  So, he's decided to keep forcing the issue.

On 1/20/2024 at 9:33 PM, CCApril said:

How did Ian make decisions before? He had to have been making them while traveling all around for the Agency. Did Sahara and the others push this out? Was he always on that ragged edge?

This is the key question, which Vickie so far has missed.  She will get there, but it will involve rethinking her most basic assumptions about Ian (coming soon).  As we shall later see, Ian brought a mountain of guilt home from Viet Nam, but it didn't begin to impact his behavior until he came to terms with the fact that all the lies he told Emily, his second wife, led directly to the destruction of their marriage.  This is now three years in the past, and socially he has been a hermit ever since.  His professional life both at home and abroad has largely been on autopilot, so failed to trigger the episodes that we have seen in these pages.  But Sarah has brought him out of his cave, and put him in a situation where he feels that he has to tell more lies, which puts him on the same path that destroyed his earlier marriage.  His seizures in this sense are indeed a safety valve, and have rightly persuaded everyone to keep him away from making meaningful decisions while Vickie figures out how to get him safely to confront his guilt.   But Ian is inching towards a different solution: letting go of the lies, telling the truth, and praying that love will yield forgiveness.

Watch for the next change in the tabs below the title.  This will hint at what Vickie has missed, and where this aspect of the story will go.  It's ironic that the Wall Street Journal currently has a write-up on this very topic.   

17 hours ago, Guilend said:

I wonder why Sarah doesn't just straight up tell Vickie that she's not to touch herself instead of adding boosters? I'm guessing when she can't get off through her diaper anymore she'll figure out the real reason and probably have a tantrum lol

Now that Ian has signed a D/s contract, Sarah is plotting to get Vickie to sign one as well.  We can all see that Sarah is controlling, but what do you think?  Is she crossing the line into outright sadism? 

[Guilend]

32 minutes ago, Babypants said:

Is she crossing the line into outright sadism? 

Probably, some sadism can be good in this situation, especially if you're meeting the needs of your partners both sexually and personally, but full outright sadism as a novice or someone caught up in the moments, can be devastating because you're only meeting your needs and you're tunnel vision aimed at that goal. I don't think Aunty will be enough to straighten Sarah out, I'm hoping Sarah's mom can.

[Babypants]

1 hour ago, Guilend said:

Probably, some sadism can be good in this situation, especially if you're meeting the needs of your partners both sexually and personally, but full outright sadism as a novice or someone caught up in the moments, can be devastating because you're only meeting your needs and you're tunnel vision aimed at that goal. I don't think Aunty will be enough to straighten Sarah out, I'm hoping Sarah's mom can.

Beautifully stated.  Many thanks.

[Babypants]

Quickie historical quiz:

Ian does not want to end up as a segment on Sixty Minutes, but in Viet Nam he did cross paths with a CBS war correspondent who later joined the crew.  Was this:

A.  Dan Rather

B.  Harry Reasoner

C.  Morley Safer

D. Mike Wallace

[Guilend]

I'm going with A because it's my gut reaction. But something tells me it could be B. 

[Babypants]

9 hours ago, Guilend said:

I'm going with A because it's my gut reaction.

Correct!  And thanks for playing.

[Babypants]

CIRCLING THE WAGONS

Easy money.

Before she opened the door to Ian's classroom, Priscilla would have cheerfully bet a month's salary that Suzie Marshall and the PISS tribe would be waiting inside, predators on the hunt for fresh prey.

But that would be a sucker's bet, and alas, there's never a sucker around when you need one.

Sure enough. Suzie was camped out in the front row, and some fifty coeds were spread around the room. A few of the obviously puzzled male students were standing in twos and threes near the blackboard, looking for all the world like circled wagons awaiting the Indian attack. The rest had scattered, to end up sitting singly or in pairs-- a testament to Suzie's tactical genius.

PISS must have got here first. It can't be coincidence that the girls are seated in a checkerboard pattern that makes it impossible for the boys to form a group. Suzie definitely knows how to conduct an orchestra …

Ian's morning office hour had gone smoothly. Coeds entered his office at roughly five minute intervals, but none of them had reemerged with a resume in hopeful hand. Ian was done playing that particular game, and yet it was a testament to his people skills that none of the girls looked upset, never mind angry, when they walked out of his office.

Sarah must have really let him have it last night. Some of the bruising on his bottom looked really nasty …

Priscilla had bottle fed him shortly before noon, and then changed his diaper for the second time. She had used a moisturizing lotion to coat the bruises, and then doused his bottom liberally with baby powder. She reckoned that he was able to sit only because his diaper was so thick.

I need to have a talk with her on Saturday night. Even in a BDSM relationship, there have to be limits …

Strolling casually to the front of the classroom, Priscilla sat down next to Suzie, and the two exchanged ritual greetings. Suzie otherwise remained quiet, waiting for her to make the first move.

“Suzie, Ian and I are both grateful for your help, and for the hours that the girls are spending on his behalf. He wants to show his gratitude for all the effort that's gone into fending off the headhunters, and we have both noted that your sorority has taken a keen interest in his students. What he has in mind is an end of term party hosted by your girls, with the boys in his classes being the guests of honor. If you can manage it, I'll make sure that campus police have other things to do that night, although I do want your word that you'll keep the racket down to a dull roar.”

“The last final will finish at noon on Saturday the fifteenth. That gives me a little over two weeks to prepare … ample time. Thank you, Officer Canon-- and if you can ditch the uniform, you would be welcome to join us. Your presence would help me keep the lid on.”

The two women shook hands, each hoping that this was the beginning of a new and more productive relationship.

“We can flesh out the details on Saturday night,” Suzie added. “Do you think the Circle has an initiation ceremony? It's been a long time since my last ritual spanking!

. . . .

“How's your rear end holding up?”

“Vickie???”

“In the flesh. Hello, Mark, how's life treating you these days?”

“Same old, same old. Six days a week at the office, and soccer practice on the seventh. When I want to have sex with Natalie, I have to make an appointment.”

“It sounds like you need a break from the routine. How about drinks at our usual haunt sometime next week? I need your professional advice, and I would be happy to compensate you in the usual manner!”

“Uh, Vic, you know that I'm a patent attorney, right? I mean, if you need a criminal attorney, I can give you a referral, but it's not my line of work.”

“Cute, Mark, very cute, but it's your expertise that I desire … well, that and a close encounter of the first kind with your tight little ass.”

“Intriguing all the way around. What in the hell could I possibly do for you … I mean, professionally speaking?”

“One of my patients is a vet, with a remarkable gift. He speaks Vietnamese fluently, and he's been helping us treat other vets with serious mental health issues. The results have been spectacular. To make a long story short, with the help of one of our orderlies who has been able to contribute a few choice phrases of his own, Ian has cobbled together a tape of Vietnamese phrases-- the really obscene kind of stuff that guys heard walking the perimeter at night. We want to run it by the VA … see if they're interested in playing with it in their own facilities. But before we get there, I thought that it would be a good idea to protect Ian by taking out a patent on his work.”

“It wouldn't be a patent, Vic. Somebody else already has the patent for both the recorder and the tape. What you're after is copyright protection for the contents of the recording itself, and if the content's obscene, that's going to be tricky. In '73, Miller versus California, the Supreme Court ruled five to four that obscenity cannot be copyrighted unless it demonstrably possesses literary, artistic, political or scientific value. I take it you would be claiming scientific value?”

“You see,” Vickie laughed, “I told you that I needed your expertise!”

“Victoria … my Dear, you have just taken a sledgehammer to 'same old, same old'. But let's do this on the up and up. Let me check my schedule ...” Mark began riffling through the pages of his desk calendar. “How about Wednesday next? Your office … say five to five thirty. Can you get the two principals to come along?”

“Shouldn't be a problem. Professor Grady's work day ends at three, and Amos is second shift. I can have both of them in our office ready and waiting.”

“Your source is a university professor?”

“Yep, and a decorated, disabled combat veteran. A Major in Special Forces.”

Mark whistled. “Talk about checking all the right boxes! Can't wait to see you again-- and afterwards the drinks will be on me!”

. . . .

Priscilla caught up with Ian as he was walking through the door, and hastily took him aside. “Suzie is on board with your idea of a party at the sorority house. She suggests the evening of the fifteenth, the Saturday that ends finals week. Why don't you invite her up to make the announcement?”

“Will do … and thanks, Priscilla. I couldn't have pulled this off without your help.”

Already a minute or two late, Ian hustled to the podium, where he nevertheless took his time laying out his notes to give the students who had been clustered at the blackboard a chance to find seats. Without exception, each ended up squeezed between two sorority girls. Finally, he looked up, and smiled at the throng.

“As some of you know,” he began, “I was born, raised, and educated in southern California. Out there in the Land of the Lotus Eaters, we tend to do things a little differently. Roughly translated, that means that we party a heck of a lot harder than those of you who were born and raised up here on the frozen tundra. I have taught Honors seminars in beer joints, and graded exams while lounging on my surfboard. My last course this past Spring, I kept the A's and B's, and tossed everything else into the ocean. My department chair was seriously unhappy about that.”

Ian grinned mischievously at his class. “Stan's really serious about environmental pollution, but then he lives in Beverly Hills, and has never seen Hong Kong's harbor or the river that runs through Saigon, never mind the somewhat colorful hotels that I've been known to frequent in Saharan Africa.”

Chuckles erupted around the room, and a few students clapped their hands in approval.

“Anyway, boldly going where no professor here in flyover country has apparently gone before, I have asked Miss Marshall and the young ladies of the Pi Iota Sigma sorority to host a party on your behalf to celebrate the end of term-- but of course we do need your approval. Ladies ...” Ian nodded in the direction of the only two women actually enrolled in his class … “And Gentlemen, what sayest thou?”

Whatever Ian was about to say next was drowned out in a cacophony of enthusiastic albeit largely inarticulate noise. Still, he took advantage of the chaos, walking over to extend his hand and help Suzie to her feet. Arm in arm, he guided her to the podium., then stepped aside to allow her to address the throng. Looking around the room, it was obvious that he had taken the sorority girls as well as his own students completely by surprise.

“It looks like everyone wants to party,” he whispered into Suzie's ear.

Suzie's only response was to wrap her arm around Ian's waist, and rest her head for a moment on his shoulder. “Thank you, Professor,” she finally replied.

Suzie was beaming as she gazed out at the assembly, but she was thinking that Ian was a dream come true. “The next time that I'm hauled into the Dean's office to hear another tiresome lecture on the outrageous lifestyle being celebrated up and down Sorority Row,” she began, “I'll encourage the Dean to seek out more faculty born, raised and educated in southern California-- men and women who, like Professor Grady, understand that life's lessons are not taught in classrooms but in the surrounding community! Finals end at noon on Saturday the fifteenth … we'll begin celebrating the end of term at seven, and you are all invited!”

The room erupted with a roar that drowned out whatever Ian or Suzie wanted to say next.

. . . .

Hanging up the phone, Vickie was still debating her next move. First things first. Standing up, Vickie reached around to check for wet spots on the back of her pants. She knew that she hadn't messed, but she had released a few tentative squirts of pee during her late morning session with a middle aged professional woman who had suffered a nervous breakdown at work. She had been plugging away in her cubicle, dealing with the latest disaster forwarded to her desk by an incompetent sales rep out in the field, when she had suddenly stood up and started screaming that the missiles were incoming and they were all going to die. The corporation's resident nurse had given her an injection to put her out of her misery, and an ambulance had brought her to the ER. After the requisite lab draws, she had been shipped to the seventh floor.

Vickie sadly shook her head as she thought about the lab report. The cortisol reading was off the charts, and the woman was seriously overweight. She needed less caffeine and a great deal more exercise.

Don't we all.

Vickie knew that she was procrastinating. Knowing that Mark regularly ate lunch at his desk, she had used calling him as an excuse to avoid going down to the cafeteria with Rita, but it was really Sarah who she wanted to avoid. The three of them always dined together, but Vickie wasn't ready to deal with clever allusions to her diapered state, and at all costs she wanted to put off her next visit to Sarah's office as long as possible. At least two baby bottles awaited her, and she had no illusions about what another sixteen to eighteen ounces of breast milk would mean for her diapers. But Vickie was hungry, and so she made a spur of the moment decision to venture across the road and treat herself to something sinful in the delicatessen. A reuben, a bit of potato salad and a large pickle would do her nicely. An iced tea also sounded good.

Retreating to the locker room, Vickie donned her winter coat, and then headed for the elevator. She got off at the first floor, and walked to the main exit. The deli was directly across the road, and she noted with satisfaction that the snow had been beaten down by the steady stream of doctors and nurses who had made the trek over the last hour.

There's only so much cafeteria food that the human animal can be expected to eat!

, . . .

Julia took another sip of the steaming hot coffee, and sighed contentedly. Her morning had gone exactly as she had anticipated. She had waited for the Lullaby Diaper Service truck at the first stop where the driver would be leaving fresh diapers on the porch, but no thief had shown up to haul them away. By eleven, she had watched and waited at three additional stops, with the same negative results. Not knowing whether she was under observation or not, she had decided to keep with her original plan and call off the surveillance. She had taken her time driving to the office, trying to time the lights so that anyone following her would have to run a red to keep up. She had seen nothing unusual in her rear view mirror.

At the office, nothing had changed since her last appearance. Pat was still salivating over the latest issue of Hustler, and Andrew was attacking a crossword puzzle. He looked up when she walked through the door. “Happen to know the Swahili word for 'freedom', he asked; “five letters.”

Julia shrugged off her coat and dropped it on an empty chair. Her purse came next. “Think Star Trek,” she enigmatically replied.

Sitting down at her desk, she fed a sheet of paper into the typewriter, and got to work. She logged the first day's activities on the Lullaby case in thirty minute blocks, starting at five thirty in the morning and closing out twelve and a half hours later. Julia did not minimize how badly she had been outwitted, but she would still charge Spats Belmondo nine hundred, thirty seven dollars and fifty cents for her time. She appended a separate expense account, billing what amounted to nothing more than the cost of running her beater all over town. At thirty-eight cents per mile, Tuesday's outing would add another nineteen dollars and seventy-six cents to the total. Julia made a mental note to call Harriet and let her know that her uncle would need to fork over more dough. Win, lose or draw, she reckoned that another thousand would cover Wednesday's charges.

Glancing at her watch, Julia decided to head downstairs and grab a bite to eat before heading over to the hospital. She had two very different subjects to discuss with Doctor Rita Stevenson, and she was not at all sure how to broach one of them.

. . . .

Vickie knew the drill: shout out your order, listen for a grudging acknowledgment, fork over money to a cashier who somehow knew exactly what you had coming, and then mill around waiting for that magical moment when your food materialized somewhere on the long counter separating the sandwich kings from their customers. That's when the fun began. At lunchtime, the deli was always crowded, so you grabbed a seat wherever you could find one. And if you couldn't … well, that's what long counters were really all about.

Scanning the room, Vickie spotted Julia Canon sitting at a corner table nursing a coffee, and the seat opposite her was vacant! As the two women recognized one another, Julia gracefully gestured for Vickie to join her.

“Need a respite from cafeteria food?” Julia didn't know Vickie's dining habits, but it was a safe bet that she regularly ate lunch in the bowels of the hospital.

“Hump days are the worst,” Vickie lamented. “This is my port in the storm. But what brings you here?”

“Oh, my office is directly overhead.”

“Really? “Aardvark, Platypus, and Twinkletoes, Attorneys at Law? What … do you play Paul Drake for the Perry Mason trio?”

“Actually, I'm Twinkletoes … and yes, I'm a practicing attorney as well as a licensed PI.”

“Wow! That must lead to some interesting conflicts of interest. But you know what's really funny? I just got off the phone with an attorney downtown-- Mark's an old friend specializing in patents and copyrights, and he's going to help me figure out what to do with a tape that Ian … that Professor Grady has put together to help us treat vets who brought Viet Nam home with them. He's been helping us the same way that he's been helping you.”

“Mark Chambrey?”

“You know him?”

“We've consulted a few times. Our firm specializes in divorce, but the PI work has led me down some pretty strange paths.”

“Like chasing a gang of diaper thieves?” Vickie laughed; the idea that people were running around the Twin Cities stealing diapers off of people's porches in the dead of winter sounded like something straight out of Monty Python. “How's it going? Any new leads?”

“No. I've hit a dead end. After lunch, I thought that I'd wander across the road and try and talk with your Doctor Stevenson. A psychiatrist might see something that I've missed, and my husband thinks highly of Rita.”

“Oh, that's right; Priscilla said something about your husband being a cop, and Rita spends far too much time in courtrooms.”

“Um,” Julia mumbled, taking refuge in her coffee cup.

“Well, if you're not in a hurry, you can walk over with me, and I'll make the introductions.”

“No hurry. And if at all possible, I'd like you to join us. There's something else that I need to talk about … something that concerns you both.”

. . . .

“Iced tea,” Rita mused. “Are we ahead of the game trading caffeine for sugar?”

“Baby steps,” Sarah answered as she stirred the long spoon in her glass. “Less coffee, more tea … less sugar, more lemon? Let's face it; this isn't going to be easy because were addicted to the stuff.”

Rita and Sarah were sharing lunch, with Vickie notable for her absence. The three of them had been so tight for so long that, when one of them went missing, it was remarked upon by their colleagues. Every time Rita looked around, puzzled looks awaited her.

“Do you get the feeling that we're fish in a fish bowl,” she whispered to Sarah.

“One of the Three Mouseketeers is AWOL,” Sarah whispered in return. “Where the hell is Vickie?”

“Don't know,” Rita shrugged. “She said that she had to make a phone call, and then she disappeared. Maybe she's avoiding us.”

“More like avoiding the bottles of nice, warm breast milk that are waiting for her upstairs. No matter. I'll feed her when I change her.”

“So you were serious about that?”

“Absolutely. Rita, do the math. If all three of us lactate, we'll produce far more milk than Ian can consume and as long as there's alcohol and caffeine in our systems, we can't donate the surplus to the milk bank. So, it's either throw it out, become teetotalers, or drink it ourselves. I suspect that we'll all be drinking it in the end, but right now I want to start with Vickie. She's a loose cannon, and we've got to get her under control. The diapers will keep her chaste, but her drinking poses a much bigger challenge. I don't know what to do about it.”

Rita slowly nodded her head in agreement. “Vic's a people person, and the very qualities that make her such a fine therapist are the ones that most threaten our new household. Now that she's in diapers, I want to keep her there-- but I don't want to undermine the high regard in which our staff hold her. That's why I think it's best for me to diaper her in my office, rather than having her run downstairs several times a day to see you. And separate and apart from the drinking, I love the idea of bottle feeding her; it will reinforce my authority as her 'auntie Rita'.”

Rita tapped the tabletop decisively. “Okay, let's go ahead and convert the third bedroom into a nursery. I'll schedule a crew to set up Vickie's crib late this afternoon, and it will only take them a few minutes to move Ian's crib and the changing table. Her furniture can all go into storage; really, the only thing she'll need out of her apartment is her cosmetics and clothing.”

“Don't forget the restraints … full sets for both cribs. When they're naughty, they're going straight over our knees … I assume that you're good with spanking, even paddling them?”

“Absolutely.”

“And then it's straight into their cribs, with locking mittens, locking pacifiers and full restraints … Mom's got a catalog from a place out in California that I plan to give a lot of business!”

. . . .

Going upstairs, Rita made a detour to Sarah's office, pausing just long enough to collect a key to Vickie's diaper cover, several bottles of breast milk, and a sampling of the thinner Lullaby diapers. It only took her a couple of minutes to grab a diaper pail from her department's stockroom, along with several of the thick hospital diapers that Vickie would now be constantly wearing whenever she was not on shift. Their shelves were also well stocked with vinyl pants, pins, powder, and everything else that the staff needed for their heavily diapered patients in the secure ward. For the time being, the rug in Rita's office would have to double as a changing mat.

Rita smiled as she took stock of the locking mittens, feeding gags, and heavy restraints that were stashed in various bins around the room. Equipping the nursery at home for two babies would be no problem at all.

 

. . . .

“This is a secure facility,” Vickie explained, “so the door can only be opened with a six number code. Staff can enter it on this pad ...” Vickie paused while she entered the number … “Or you can use the telephone. A member of staff will check you out ...” Vickie pointed at the camera high on the wall that covered the entry … “Press a button, and presto, you gain admission.”

She opened the door when she heard the lock buzz, and checked to make sure it closed properly once the two of them were inside. “The secure ward has a similar door, but with a different code. We've never had a patient escape, although a few have tried.”

“I'm impressed,” Julia remarked; “modern jails have a lot more doors, but the underlying principle is the same.”

“Let's meet the boss,” Vickie said as she knocked on Rita's open door. “We've got company … Detective Julia Canon, also known as Twinkletoes, Attorney at Law … Doctor Rita Stevenson, the senior charge nurse responsible for our little corner of the world.”

Vickie dropped into her usual chair, and gestured for Julia to take the other seat.

“It's a pleasure to meet you,” Julia began. “Herb, my husband, speaks highly of you. The police department values the work that you've done over the years, especially in the courtroom.”

“It's been a while since your husband and I last crossed paths,” Rita smiled. “Is Herb still riding a desk?”

“Yes, and he's still unhappy about it. He complains constantly about his waistline.”

“Don't we all,” Rita laughed. “Anyway, what can I do for you?”

“A couple of things. Monday, I was hired by the owner of Lullaby Diaper Service to track down a gang of thieves following their delivery truck around town. The thieves are stealing the deliveries off the porch, which is where the driver leaves them when there's no one home. Yesterday I trailed the truck, and explored the neighborhoods around the houses most at risk, looking for unusual activity. I was thorough, and saw nothing untoward. As it happened, the thieves only hit one house, and it was the one at which I took the most elaborate measures. Obviously, they spotted me, and went out of their way to rub my nose in it. So, they're smart and well organized, and I'm hoping that the two of you can give me an insight into their mindset. I'm setting a trap for them at your Professor Grady's apartment this afternoon, but if they don't show up, I'll be at a dead end.”

Rita and Vickie simply looked at one another. Each had dealt with kleptomaniacs in the past, but diaper theft had been limited to the occasional troubled individual ripping off neighborhood clothes lines. Brassieres, panties … the public at large had no idea how common this sort of opportunity theft really was.

“Well,” Rita began, “if you were dealing with an individual, I'd say that it's someone with a compulsive diaper fetish … someone who's too ashamed to go to a medical supply store and simply buy what he needs.”

“He?”

“Paraphilic infantilists are rarely female,” Vickie noted. “It's a guy thing.”

“But you're sure that you are dealing with two or more people?”

“Positive … and at least two vehicles, probably using car phones to stay in communication. A spotter, and the actual thief.”

“Hmm.” Rita considered the possibilities. “Employees with a beef, past or present?”

Julia emphatically shook her head. “It's a small company, but it's well organized and well managed. Nothing leaps out of the company files, and I've gone through the last ten years. And there have only been three written complaints; the most recent is seven years old.”

Vickie repeatedly tapped her lips with her index finger, a nervous habit that only surfaced when she was deep in thought. “With Christmas approaching, ordinarily I'd say that it's a team hoping to grab expensive gifts that they can pawn or resell. But there's no aftermarket for diapers, so it has to be something else. A prank, maybe? An elaborate joke at the owner's expense? Who owns Lullaby?”

“His name is Vincent Belmondo, although he's more commonly known as Spats Belmondo.” Julia could see from the blank looks on both their faces that Rita and Vickie had never heard of the gangster. “Think the Al Capone of the Twin Cities.”

“Al Capone deals in diapers?” Vickie was beginning to think that the joke was on her and Rita.

“Apparently it's a very profitable business. Lullaby services nursing homes throughout the Metro, in addition to residential customers like your … uh … like your boyfriend.”

Julia was still trying to come to grips with the fact that the two psychiatrists were happily in love with the same guy, and willing to share him with still another member of the staff, to whom he would soon be married.

Different strokes for different folks …

“Anyway, the thieves have picked on the wrong guy. If I strike out, Spats will keep looking, and bad things happen to his enemies. Shallow graves in the woods north of Ely … wood chippers … a tasty snack for pigs on a farm down in Iowa … bad things.”

“So we're dealing with adults, and neither sex nor money seems to be the motivating factor.” Vickie was still thinking out loud. “Could it be a dare … maybe an initiation of some kind? Have you checked to see if there are any other weird items being stolen this way? Maybe there's a list of things that have to be stolen and handed over in order to join the secret society. When I was rushing my sorority, we had to go out and milk a cow, then bring the milk back for the cat that was running around the house. It was gross, but we did it.”

“A sorority.” Julia blinked as the memory came rushing back. “It's odd that you should say that because the only false note yesterday was a pair of college aged girls who were definitely in the wrong part of town when our paths crossed. They were so out of place that I took down their license plate and had my husband run it through the DMV. Sure enough … the car belonged to a nineteen year from New Ulm named Tippi Bjornsen.”

“Tippi?” Rita could only shake her head. “With a name like that? If she ever decides to shoot her parents, I'll testify in her defense.”

“Doctor Robinson, you were in a sorority. Is it possible for some kind of ritual … an initiation or something like it … to occur this late in the term?”

“Not to my knowledge, but keep in mind that I graduated twelve years ago. The person you need to talk to is my arch rival, Suzie Marshall. She's the Pi Iota Sigma house mother.”

“Priscilla has mentioned her … in fact, Priscilla is planning to give Suzie a ride to Doctor Stevenson's house on Saturday night to join this circle of yours. The two of them have a complicated relationship, which is par for the course between campus cops and the house mothers and fathers on the Row.”

“Missus Canon ...”

“Julia, please.”

“Thank you,” Rita continued. “And we're Rita and Vickie. We don't stand on a lot of ceremony around here.”

“We try and establish a rapport with our patients,” Vickie explained. “Our titles simply get in the way, so we don't use them. We leave that sort of thing to the jerks down in the surgery suites.”

“And you should join us,” Rita finished as she fished out a business card that had her home address and telephone number hand written on the back. “Saturday nights are when we let our hair down.”

“I'd like to come, but you might want to change your mind when you hear what else I have to say.”

Once again, Rita and Vickie silently exchanged looks.

“Go on,” Rita finally said.

“It's about your boyfriend … Professor Grady.” Again, Rita and Vickie remained silent, waiting for the detective to continue. “How much do either of you know about him?

How much does Sarah … his fiancee … know? 

[littlebopeeper]

Rita is really hard to read!  Is she on Vickie's side, or playing both ends against the middle?  Is this why she is the only major character for whom we have no back story?  A great, psychologically complex story.  Keep it coming!

[Babypants]

22 hours ago, littlebopeeper said:

Rita is really hard to read!  Is she on Vickie's side, or playing both ends against the middle?  Is this why she is the only major character for whom we have no back story? 

Great catch, and thank you for the comment.  I write stories with lots of characters and give many of them a narrative POV because I see myself as the play by play announcer for a team.  Some characters are on the court or in the field, and others are riding the bench or sitting in the bullpen, but they all have stories to tell.  Right now, Rita is in the bullpen; when the manager calls her to the mound will be the time to remind the fans that she has a particular role to play on the team. 

[littlebopeeper]

16 hours ago, Babypants said:

Right now, Rita is in the bullpen; when the manager calls her to the mound will be the time to remind the fans that she has a particular role to play on the team. 

Interesting.  So is she flying under the radar, or is it more like she's watching the game from the bullpen, but sees it differently than the fans because she knows the players on the field personally?

[Babypants]

Quickie historical quiz:

Julia is absolutely right.  The five letter word for "freedom" in Swahili does indeed match the name of someone in the original Star Trek series.  This would be which of the following:

A.  Majel

B.  McCoy

C.  Spock

D.  Uhura

[Guilend]

It's D. 

However I did double-check my answer lol. Mostly because I had to know I was right because part of me wanted to switch to A. So I had to know if I was right or not in my own mental argument lol. 

[Babypants]

18 hours ago, Guilend said:

It's D. 

Got it in one!  The late Majel Barrett was Gene Roddenberry's wife, and played several different parts across the various Star Trek series.  Thanks for playing!

[Guilend]

2 minutes ago, Babypants said:

Got it in one!  The late Majel Barrett was Gene Roddenberry's wife, and played several different parts across the various Star Trek series.  Thanks for playing!

OK, I thought Majel was important trivia as well, I never looked it up, but I knew I'd heard something about it lol.

[Babypants]

On 1/28/2024 at 12:12 PM, littlebopeeper said:

So is she flying under the radar, or is it more like she's watching the game from the bullpen, but sees it differently than the fans because she knows the players on the field personally?

A bit of both, I suppose.  She is certainly flying under the radar, but this is in large part due to my desire to situate her between Sarah and Vickie.  We see her interacting with them both, but we also see her looking at them from a distance and passing judgment on their words and actions, which she may or may not be interpreting correctly.  So she is both a first and third person voice, and at times I use introspection to substitute her for the reader as a second person voice.   

[CCApril]

The Saturday night party is going to be an epic chapter! Hopefully, confession time might lead to better, more accurate treatment for his trauma. And I don't mean his bruised butt.

[Babypants]

7 hours ago, CCApril said:

The Saturday night party is going to be an epic chapter! Hopefully, confession time might lead to better, more accurate treatment for his trauma. And I don't mean his bruised butt.

Happily, readers won't have to wait that long to discover the truth.  This scene (44) takes place around 12:30-1:30 on Wednesday afternoon.  Priscilla will learn what really happened in Viet Nam around two hours later in scene 47, and later that night, in scene 51, the Zeta Alpha Pi sorority will hear an edited version as Ian confronts his own fears in an effort to save the girls from repeating his mistakes.  

On a side note, watch for profound changes in the relationship between Sarah and Vickie.  We are nearing the payoff for all of the work that went into building Vickie's character and personal history in a span of some 50 scenes.

How do I wrangle an invite to the party at BB's?

[CCApril]

Unfortunately BB's invites are very hard to come by. But I can share with you and other readers some of the fun that is happening there! Just for my readers here at (Daily Diaper) I'm going to post the party scenes in at least two if not three pieces.  I have written as much as my usual chapters and I'm just starting the party. Whatever is written by Sunday morning will get edited and posted Sunday afternoon or earlier. 

[Babypants]

SUNSHINE, LOLLIPOPS, AND RAINBOWS

“Julia, if you're fishing for information, you should know that Ian is a patient in this ward, and that Vickie is his therapist. We take his right to privacy quite seriously.”

Rita was staring hard at the private eye, and Vickie was glowering. When it came to Ian Grady, both women were extremely protective.

“I'm sorry, Rita … Vickie … but I came to share information, not solicit it. Is there any chance that you could ask Sarah to join us. What I have to say concerns all three of you.”

“Call her.” Vickie made it an order.

Rita picked up the phone and dialed; she knew the extension by heart. “We have a problem here,” she said when Sarah answered. “Can you come up ASAP?”

“On my way,” she simply replied. Pausing only to collect Vickie's diaper bag, Sarah headed for the elevator that would take her to the seventh floor. With the six digit code committed to memory, she could let herself in.

For her part, Vickie got up and went out to the foyer to collect another chair. Dragging it in, she grumbled that Rita needed a bigger office because she was getting tired of moving the furniture around. It was an old joke, but it didn't lighten either woman's mood.

. . . .

During term, the basement level cafeteria in the Student Union was packed at lunch time, but a keen eyed sociologist would have observed that there was nothing random about the seating pattern. Foreign students kept to themselves, with the Korean and Japanese students being conspicuously clannish-- but no more so than the refugees from Fraternity Row. There was no sign on the table reading RESERVED FOR ZETA ALPHA PI, but first year students quickly learned to give ZAP a wide berth. On this particular afternoon in late November, four members of the sorority were holding court …

“Look, Jan, it's not like we're asking you to rob Fort Knox or something. It's just a few, lousy diapers!”

Tippi couldn't figure out why Janis Marsden was so reluctant to take advantage of her position as a candy striper at the hospital. She was keen to rob the diaper service, so breaking out into a sweat when pushed to explore the housekeeping department and grab a couple of samples didn't make a lot of sense.

“That's right,” Melanie chimed in. “I mean, really, you're just a volunteer, right? So, even if you get caught, it's not like they can fire you. They'll just give you the boot.”

“But they could … they could arrest me,” Janis protested.

“Over a couple of lousy diapers?” Cindy snorted. “Come on! And besides, all you'd have to say is that it's part of your initiation. Everyone knows that the Greeks are big on doing weird stuff. Hell, once they hear that a sorority is involved, they'll probably help you carry the stuff out to your car!”

“She's right, Janny. If anybody questions you, just tell them that it's a sorority prank, and that you'll return them later.” Tippi was patting Janis on the arm, trying to give her a little Dutch courage.

“All right.” Janis was ready reluctantly to agree with her sisters. “I have a three hour shift this afternoon, starting at three. If I have any free time, I'll wander down to housekeeping and look around. But I'm not making any promises!”

“That's okay, Janny.” Tippi continued to pat Janis's arm, and her voice was soothing. “Just do the best you can … and, if you do find the diapers, this bag will come in handy!”

Tippi slipped Janis a vinyl bag that was folded up so tightly that it would slip into her pocket.

. . . .

Sarah paused in the doorway, taking in the scene.

“Sarah, this is Julia Canon, Priscilla's mom.”

Rita reacted quickly to the confused look on Sarah's face.

"Julia, this is our colleague Sarah Haikonnen … Professor Grady's fiancee.”

Julia stood up to offer Sarah her hand. Sarah took it, but the introduction did nothing to erase her puzzlement. When both women sat down, Rita explained that Julia had requested her presence. The detective wanted to talk about Ian, and to do so with all three of them at once.

Julia decided to start with Vickie, and their visit the previous afternoon to the Lullaby Diaper Service.

“Doctor Robinson … um … Vickie … do you remember the tracking device that Priscilla gave me yesterday afternoon?”

“Sure. But it's one of Ian's toys … something that he bought in Chicago.” Vickie doubted if either Rita or Sarah had seen this side of Ian's personality. “He loves to tinker with gadgets,” she went on to explain. “He said that he's got a whole drawer full of them at the office.”

“I'm sorry, Vickie; there's no easy way to say this, but he was lying. I examined that 'toy' carefully, and I can assure you that he didn't buy it in Chicago or anywhere else in the country. It's state of the art-- at a guess, maybe two to three years in advance of anything that you'd find on the shelves of the most sophisticated electronics shops not just here but worldwide. It's government issue.”

“You're sure about this?” Rita's tone was sharp.

“Very. And it gets worse … a lot worse. I asked my husband to run a background check on Professor Grady, and early this morning he did so, tapping into a federal data base that is a resource used by police nationwide. Within minutes, the Chief of Police received a call from the FBI's Deputy Director for Counterintelligence, ordering him to cease and desist.”

“WHAT?” Sarah was on her feet, looking absolutely stunned.

“Three possibilities come immediately to mind,” Julia continued calmly. She paused only long enough to allow Sarah to sit down. “The first is that Professor Grady is in the Witness Protection Program, and Herb's query set off an alert. This seems unlikely, however, because Priscilla tells me that Professor Grady travels all over the world, and has been doing so for years. People in the program do not travel; the risk of being seen by someone searching for them is too great. Have any of you seen his passport?”

“I made a copy of it for my travel agent,” Sarah said defensively; “to make sure that he could leave the country for our honeymoon.”

“Did you happen to leaf through it?”

“I did,” Vickie confessed. “We all did. Amy … Ian's departmental secretary … she said that it makes for interesting reading. And she's right. He's been in countries that I've never even heard of.”

“And how did a graduate student who is now a poorly paid Assistant Professor pay for all the plane tickets? The hotels?”

“Ian's an only child whose parents were killed in a head-on crash when he was nineteen, so he must have been the sole heir to their estate.” Sarah nodded her head, thinking about it. “Then there's his military pay, and don't overlook the scholarship and grant money that he's probably been bringing in ever since he entered graduate school.”

“These sums can be substantial,” Rita interjected. “Both Vickie and I covered a lot of our medical school bills with grant money.”

“Vickie, Priscilla overheard you say that he has been in Timbuktu, right?”

“Right. We're all curious about that.”

“As well you should be. Timbuktu is in the western Sahara, a country called Mali. What is a Professor of East Asian Languages doing in Mali?”

No one responded, and the silence lingered for several seconds. Finally, Vickie looked up.

“You think that he's a spy don't you,” Vickie said accusingly. She was seething, but she didn't know whether it was Julia or Ian that had triggered her anger. Perhaps it was both.

“An intelligence officer,” Julia corrected, “operating in deep cover. It's the one explanation that covers all the bases … and then there are his students. Priscilla described them in detail, and Herb raced over to campus this morning to sit in on his class and check them out ...”

“So much for 'cease and desist', Rita murmured.

“He was evaluating the students, not Professor Grady! And at least some of them are what the police have nicknamed 'Stepford husbands'. Do you remember the movie … Stepford Wives?”

“Sure,” Sarah shrugged. “We've all seen it. It's a crock.”

“Well, we're talking about something similar. The alphabet agencies operate a training program at Quantico, and the finished products all look alike, talk alike, dress alike, think alike … it's surreal. Think Hymie the Robot, and you're there. Then some of them move on for advanced training. Some of the Ivy League schools are notorious factories, and in the person of Professor Grady, it looks like the feds have set up shop here in the Twin Cities. He's equipping these young people with a skill set that they can use on overseas assignments.”

“So?” Sarah was becoming impatient. “Ian's a teacher, Julia, and from everything that I've been able to gather, he's a darned good one. His students are lucky to have him as an instructor. And as for him being a spy … the idea is ludicrous. He's incontinent, Julia; for God's sake, he wears diapers 24/7, and he uses them for everything! Your daughter? Have you talked with her about this? On campus, she's his caretaker-- she's changing his poopy diapers three or four times a day, feeding him his bottles ...”

“Bottle feeding him?” Julia was incredulous.

“It's part of his treatment,” Rita offered. “But that's all I can tell you without violating his right to privacy.”

“Yesterday,” Vickie cut in, “walking through the hospital to get to Sarah's office? He collapsed, Julia; if Priscilla hadn't caught him, he would have ended up on the floor! He has a cane, but he's too stubborn to admit that he needs it. In part it's simple male pride, but there's also a scared little boy inside Ian who thinks that we're going to abandon him if he admits that he's disabled. Well, we're not going anywhere. Right now, the battle that we're fighting is to get him to understand that there's nothing shameful or dishonorable about needing to depend on others ...”

“His vulnerability is a big part of his charm,” Rita observed. “And we all love the way he makes no attempt to hide his diapers … shrugs them off as no big deal. Vic's right. It's the cane that's holding him back, not the diapers. His deepest fear is that he's going to end up in a wheelchair.”

“I'll concede that it's hard to view a man with Ian's disabilities as an agent in the field,” Julia replied. “But the tracking device isn't going away, and neither is this morning's phone call. I'm sorry, but there it is. There is more to Professor Grady than meets the eye, but what the three of you do with the information I've conveyed is strictly up to you. Rest assured, however, that my husband and I are going to have a serious chat with our daughter. He has charmed her off her feet, and the idea that he's done so by pulling the wool over her eyes doesn't sit well with either of us.”

Julia stood up, excused herself, and walked out of the office.

Sarah stood up just long enough to shut the door, then resumed her seat. The three women looked at one another, neither of them sure of what to say.

“She's right, you know.” Vickie was the first finally to speak up. “All the entries in his passport that have nothing to do with the courses he teaches. And he was in military intelligence. The truth has been staring us in the face for the last couple of days, and none of us have wanted to go there. God! I can see it now … he'll come home from the office someday, pack a bag, and tell us he's got to fly somewhere on business that he's not free to discuss. It will all be top secret, which is a just a fancy way of saying a great, big, fat lie.”

“Pack a diaper bag.” Rita was reminding them both of the absurdity of it all.

“We've got to get to the bottom of this,” Sarah concluded, “but no matter what we find out, Ian isn't going anywhere without our permission … period, end of story. So, here's what I suggest: Rita, when you have your heart to heart tomorrow afternoon, bring up the question of having children first. If he says 'yes', then bring up his passport, and get him to agree that wandering all over the world this way has to stop.”

“That's clever,” Rita mused. Then she looked up. “But what if he says 'no'?”

“One way or the other, I'm going to have a baby … maybe two babies.” Sarah's tone was determined, and now she was staring at Vickie, challenging her.

“Does my baby girl need her diapee changed,” she cooed.

“Yes, Mommy,” Vickie smiled. “My diapee is very wet.”

“Then I'll change you, Sweetheart, while auntie Rita warms up your ba bas. Then she can feed you while I get back to work.”

Vickie scowled, but chose not to object. She was ready to accept that breast milk and poopy diapers were the price that she would have to pay for falling in love. She wasn't happy about it, but she also accepted that she would now become Sarah's baby girl for real. As she had said to Julia only minutes earlier, she wasn't going anywhere.

. . . .

“Let's check your diaper,” Priscilla suggested as she shut the door behind her. It worried her that the hallway had been empty when they returned to Ian's office. If the recruiters backed off, she would soon be forced to return to her normal duties.

Ian wordlessly hung up his coat, then turned around with his arms spread wide. He knew that Priscilla enjoyed undressing him, and he enjoyed letting her do it.

She eased his trousers down to his ankles, then unlocked and lowered his diaper cover. She took her time sliding the vinyl baby pants down his legs before addressing the heavy cloth diaper. She awkwardly twirled him around so that she could peek inside the fabric. “Not poopy,” she commented.

She was surprised to discover that she was a bit disappointed. Then she turned him around again, and firmly clasped the diaper where it covered his loins. The intimate act no longer embarrassed either of them.

“You're wet,” she noted, “but this diaper can hold a great deal more. I'll change you at the end of your office hour.” She pulled the vinyl pant back into place, but left the diaper cover where it lay. She was acutely aware that the heavy canvas cover and trousers gathered around his ankles effectively immobilized him.

“God, how I love babying you,” she whispered.

They were standing very close, staring deeply into each other's eyes. Impulsively, she clasped her hands behind his neck, and inched closer. Ian never wore cologne, but the faint smell of baby powder surrounded him. She loved it.

Priscilla was acutely aware that the minutes she would have Ian all to herself were falling away, perhaps never to be experienced again.

Ian gently wrapped his arms around her waist, and drew her still closer.

They stared at one another for what felt like eternity, and then they kissed-- a deep kiss that lingered as Priscilla's hand drifted lower, searching for and finding Ian's cock. She rubbed her fingers up and down, sensed it straining against the heavy fabric pinned around his waist. She knew that, if she removed his baby pants and diaper, he would be ready to enter her.

Priscilla found it hard to breathe, air coming to her in stolen gasps. She could feel her panties getting wet, and wondered if Ian could taste her scent. It surrounded them, competing for primacy with the baby powder.

“I could say that I want to scalp you, because I've never done it before.”

She was whispering into his ear, the words coming out in staccato fashion as she kissed his cheek and nibbled on his ear lobe.

Ian was silently kissing and nibbling on her neck, his touch causing her nipples to harden.

“But that would be a lie.”

The words came out in a rush, falling down the slope into a moan that hung in the air.

“I want to make love to you,” she breathed … “I want to make love to you here and now because I may never have another chance.”

“There's no scalp unless you take a picture,” Ian murmured as his fingers began to unbutton her blouse before moving on to her bra. “And we don't have a camera.” He was kissing her shoulders as his hands set her breasts free. One by one, he took her hardened nipples into his mouth, teasing them with his teeth.

Priscilla's hands were clinching his shoulders, her fingernails raking his skin, marking him through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Ian slid to his knees before her, his fingers attacking her belt. He pulled trousers and panties down in one fluid motion, then leaned forward deeply to inhale her scent. He began to lick her, thankful that she was shaven, his tongue searching for and finding the nub. He could feel it hardening beneath his tongue as he tasted the juices flowing out of her.

“We don't have much time,” Priscilla breathed.

“You need to mount me,” he somehow managed to whisper as his tongue continued to drive her wild.

Blindly, Priscilla's fingers stumbled across the top of the filing cabinet, finding and grasping his changing pad. She pulled it to her.

“Wait,” she commanded.

Ian obeyed. Obedience to the commands of a woman in the throes of love went to the very heart of who he was as a man.

Priscilla kicked off her shoes, her trousers somehow following, but it pleased her that Ian's legs were still imprisoned by his clothing. It was only with her help that he was able to stretch out on the mat.

Unbidden, he lifted his ass so that she could once more remove his baby pants, and then, one by one, glorying in the moments, she opened the diaper pins, finally letting the damp fabric fall around him. Ian's cock was rigid, pointing straight up into the air.

Priscilla touched the tip with a lone finger, her eyes taking in the bulk of him. Lowering her head, she took him into her mouth, and ran her lips up and down his shaft.

Ian stifled a moan, uncertain whether there was an audience gathering just beyond the door.

“I can't hold on much longer,” he warned, his hands slapping the floor, giving voice to his frustration. He wanted to make love with Priscilla, wanted the moments they shared to stretch into infinity.

She mounted him, gently, watching his eyes, remembering how he had collapsed into her arms just the day before, so helpless. There was so much pain there. Ian needed far more than sex, she realized, and far more than love. He needed tenderness.

Ian used his hands to steady Priscilla's hips. She took control, using her muscles to set the rhythm, moving up and down, holding him tight, guiding him deep inside her. Her eyes closed and she ceased to breathe, her lips parting, and a deep sigh escaping as she came. She could feel Ian arching his back beneath her, saw his eyes close and his mouth open. He came with a moan that somehow signaled regret, but she could feel the warmth of his seed exploding inside her, thrust after thrust as his cock emptied, filling her with the possibility of new life.

Priscilla was not on the pill, her one contraceptive sitting inside a case, at the back of a dresser drawer in her bedroom. Others might have called her careless, reckless, even selfish, but she would have disagreed. This was not her first time, but it was the first time that she had made love.

“Sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows,” she whispered, locking the moment into her forever memories.

“Sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows,” Ian agreed. He reached up to caress her cheek.

Looking down into Ian's eyes, seeing the gentleness that so defined his nature, for the first time in a long time, Priscilla was truly happy.

She had no regrets, none whatsoever.

[Guilend]

23 minutes ago, Babypants said:

had no regrets, none whatsoever

Not yet she doesn't. Once Sarah figures out what happened she'll need thicker diapers then Iin just to sit comfortably lol.