AN HOMAGE TO VINCENT VEGA, SEASON TWO SCENE 56 (INTERMISSION) READ FIRST

[Babypants]

7 minutes ago, Guilend said:

E sounds good to lol.

It is E. 

My wife breast fed twice, and if you have not had the experience? Believe me, it is very, very hard to avoid drinking the stuff when you are making love.  To me, it tasted so sweet that I sometimes struggled to keep it down.  All of my married friends were in the same boat, and had the same reaction, but there must be guys out there who like the taste.  To each his own!

[Guilend]

2 minutes ago, Babypants said:

It is E. 

My wife breast fed twice, and if you have not had the experience? Believe me, it is very, very hard to avoid drinking the stuff when you are making love.  To me, it tasted so sweet that I sometimes struggled to keep it down.  All of my married friends were in the same boat, and had the same reaction, but there must be guys out there who like the taste.  To each his own!

Both my kids didn't breastfeed, but my wife did let me try it a couple of times, I loved it, but my wife said it made her uncomfortable or something so she wouldn't let me continue lol. 

[Babypants]

Second contemporary cultural quiz:

Wives who breast feed their husbands claim that:

A.  A nursing husband increases milk production in comparison with limiting nursing to the infant.

B.  A nursing husband can balance breasts in cases where the infant regularly prefers one breast over the other.

C.  The experience can be sexually intense.

D.  All of the above.

[Guilend]

D. All of the above

[Babypants]

21 hours ago, Guilend said:

D. All of the above

Right you are!

[Guilend]

11 minutes ago, Babypants said:

Right you are!

I read that somewhere back when my ex wife was producing breast milk. At the time it seemed everything that mentioned breast milk or breastfeeding caught my eye lol.

[Babypants]

On 9/30/2023 at 3:09 PM, Guilend said:

I just had an evil idea for Sarah to do to Vickie onve they're all moved in together. While Rita and Sarah or having a threesome with Ian, make Vickie watch while wearing her locking diapers. Get her to beg to get it removed and Sarah would be like, that diaper is dry and clean, there's no reason to take it off you now. Vickie will then fill her diapers and Sarah finally removes the diaper covor, but to Vickies humiliation and shock, instead of letting Vickie join them, she makes Vickie cum in her wet and poopy diaper before changing her and putting her down for a nap while Rita and her finishes with Ian lol.

Neat idea.  The nice thing about foursomes is that they offer so many possibilities.  For example, there is a neat wall painting in Pompeii's suburban baths of a foursome.  From left to right, a man is anally penetrating a second man, who is being fellated by a woman, upon whom a second woman is performing cunnilingus.  At parties, sophisticated Romans were known to build a chain (catena) in this manner, and woe betide "the weak link."  If you're interested, you can see the mural online in the Wikipedia article on Pompeii's suburban baths.  There is also a mural of a threesome, and several other explicitly erotic paintings in the dressing room.  In sum, there is a lot of room for experimentation in a foursome, so many different scenarios are conceivable.  But remember, Rita is of the opinion that Sarah is not very imaginative in the bedroom, so your imagination may be far more inventive than hers!

[Babypants]

On 10/1/2023 at 7:27 PM, CDfm said:

I don’t think I could be in Ian’s shoes. If I am going to get excited and start having sex we are going to finish! There’s no way I am going to be able to turn that off every time.  Especially trying to please three different ladies.

It can be done, but in my experience it takes tremendous concentration, and knowledgeable partners.  We adopted the Venus aversa position in conjunction with a queening stool.  Of course, as a hardened combat veteran with R&R under his belt in HK and Bangkok, never mind Saigon, Ian did not come home wet behind the ears.  And as we shall see, our three nurses are not the only Twin Cities ladies in Ian's romantic life.  Here we are, in the thirtieth scene, and we have yet to meet Professor Grady in his professional capacity.  That's about to change.

 

[Guilend]

4 minutes ago, Babypants said:

It can be done, but in my experience it takes tremendous concentration, and knowledgeable partners.  We adopted the Venus aversa position in conjunction with a queening stool.  Of course, as a hardened combat veteran with R&R under his belt in HK and Bangkok, never mind Saigon, Ian did not come home wet behind the ears.  And as we shall see, our three nurses are not the only Twin Cities ladies in Ian's romantic life.  Here we are, in the thirtieth scene, and we have yet to meet Professor Grady in his professional capacity.  That's about to change.

 

I just can't wait for the next chapter lol. This story has me excited in more then one way lol. Even if I don't understand the psychological information in the story, it's a really good read.

[littlebopeeper]

Oh, boy.  Vickie is 33, and her hormones look to be going crazy, which explains a lot.  So, now we all wait for the results of Ian's sperm test.  If it turns out that he can father a child, what a twist that would be in a story already full of twists!

[Babypants]

MONDAY, MONDAY

With a deep sigh, Rita entered the six digit code and opened the door. Seeing their cars parked in their accustomed slots, she knew that Vickie and Sarah had preceded her. Was Sarah reclaiming possession of her own domain down on three, or was she just beyond the door? Would Sarah and Vickie be giggling over their absurd fate, or rolling on the floor, trying to scratch each other's eyes out? There was only one way to find out.

Sitting quietly, drinking coffee, it was obvious that her two closest friends had been waiting for her to arrive.

“Sorry to be running a little late,” she said as she turned to make sure that the door had shut and locked behind her. “The slog down the corridor took a lot longer than I expected.”

“You're a celebrity,” Vickie observed. “We all are. Until the next craze comes along, you should plan on getting here a bit earlier.”

“Our fifteen minutes of fame,” Rita lamented. “You have to wonder how long it's going to last.”

“At least until we say 'I do',” Sarah guessed. “All I heard this morning was 'when's the wedding'?, and 'am I invited'? Poor Ian … it doesn't sound like he has very many people to ask. We have to find some way to balance the scales. He's not even sure who he wants to be his Best Man.”

“So, what's that under your arm?” Vickie nodded at an elegantly wrapped package that was peeking out from Rita's shoulder bag.

“Don't know,” she admitted, “but there's a sure fire way to find out.” Rita used her fingernail to spear the scotch tape, trying not to tear the wrapping paper. She figured that she could use it on another gift, especially with the Christmas season now well and truly underway.

“Oh, for the ...”

Sarah clapped her hands, delighted with the gift. “It's perfect,” she cried.

Rita was holding up a copy of Babar the Elephant. Inside, she found a birthday card. It was addressed to Toby, and signed “The Crash Team.”

Reaching behind her, Vickie pulled out a grocery bag. “This one's from Amos, Andy, and the rest of our pals in the ER. It's addressed to Pete.”

Opening the bag, she pulled out a copy of Crictor, and set it aside. “And I would dearly love to know where they found a six pack of Heineken on a Sunday in Minnesota!” Vickie set the beer on top of the children's book.

“Isn't Crictor about a boa constrictor,” Sarah asked. She vaguely remembered reading the book out loud to some of the children she babysat in her early teens.

“Pete won't mind,” Vickie snorted. “It's the thought that counts … that, and the beer.”

“Amen to that,” Rita said decisively. “But going forward, we need to keep Ian out of the cafeteria. Granted, the guy can charm bark off of trees, but this is getting out of hand.”

“Ruining our reputation, is he?” Vickie was feeling a bit snarky, and it wasn't even her time of the month.

“He shouldn't have been down there in the first place,” Sarah huffed. “Why didn't you do what I wanted, and keep him on a strict breast milk diet?”

“Duh … because it doesn't agree with him? But I tell you what, Stretch, if you don't mind changing fifteen poopy diapers a day all by your lonesome, we'll do it your way.”

“Put a sock in it, Pom Poms Girl.”

Sarah stuck out her tongue at Vickie. She was really sensitive about being a perennial bench warmer on a small town high school basketball team in Upper Michigan, while Vickie had been a cheerleader on an athletic powerhouse in Minneapolis' southwestern suburbs. It didn't help that Vickie could skate rings around her out on the ice.

“Enough, already. Have either of you bothered to ask Julie for an update?”

Sarah and Vickie both shook their heads.

“Then let's do the changing of the guard, and hear what she has to say.” Rita led the way into Julie Neymar's office; it was time for the whole third shift to head home and get some rest.

“All quiet on the western front,” she inquired.

Julie nodded in agreement. “He's sleeping like a baby.” Knowing that only one patient would bring Rita, Vickie and Sarah into her office at the same time, she pulled up the video feed from room eleven. “No problems with the recording,” she added; “it's been repeating for the last ten hours, and he's spent enough time in theta sleep to reabsorb it.”

“Bian recorded the Vietnamese lullabies that she sang to Ian that last, awful night in Hue,” Rita explained to Sarah, who had yet to hear the tape. “We're using one lullaby in particular to summon the regressed personality that you know so well, and code phrasing to overlay the Princess Poopy Pants personality. Vic's installed triggers for both the Princess and the Major, and it looks like they've taken. This is just reinforcement. I want you to stay here and watch how Vic does this-- and plan on spending your lunch hours up here all week long because you need to review what she's been doing, and master enough Vietnamese to take her place in Ian's crib, diapers and all.”

“Diapers? What are you talking about?”

“You and I will both be spending hours in the crib with him, and there won't be any bathroom breaks. We'll both be fully diapered, which means adhering to ward standards. Sorry, Sarah, but this is the path that ends with Princess Poopy Pants regarding all three of us as her mommy. And Sofia is going to get her wish: Ian's sexual activity will be restricted to the crib. It's at the core of Vickie's assault on his subconscious, but in the long term a lot of thorny problems disappear if the Major associates the crib with sex, because the crib is where the Princess will be sleeping.”

“And feel free to pee and poop yourself to your heart's content,” Vickie laughed. “I sure did!”

“And who diapered the Pom Poms princess,” Sarah wanted to know.

“I did,” Rita acknowledged.

“And now it's her turn to diaper us,” Sarah concluded. “I can live with that.”

“Sorry, but we need to throw Manny Cepeda a bone. We're toying with the idea of having him hold a slave auction, maybe in the cafeteria. The highest bidder gets the privilege of diapering us, and cleaning us up afterwards. All proceeds, of course, go to Manny's children's fund. More money means more presents at the Christmas pageant, Sarah; you know how Manny runs things.”

“Yeah,” Sarah sighed, already resigned to her diapered fate, and the attendant humiliation. The hospital wasn't in the best part of town, and with the Directors' blessings Manny had been raising money for years to put on a gala for the neighborhood kids. This was where the five percent that he raked off the betting pools ended up at year's end.

“As long as the auction is female only, I'm in.”

“Hospital wide?” Rita wanted to be sure because not all of the jerks on Sarah's lengthy roster were men.

“I'll take my chances,” Sarah snorted, knowing exactly what Rita was thinking.

“You're on, Vic. I want you to summon the Princess first, then the Major. Sarah will observe from here, then join you in the hydrotherapy chamber. Shave and shower, then get him dressed. Vic hands him off to Amy, with or without a campus police escort. One of you collects him at the end of her shift, and we all live happily ever after.”

. . . .

“Con cò bé bé; does Princess Poopy Pants love her mommy?”

Vickie had quietly lowered the crib's side panel before selectively attacking the welter of restraints that pinned Ian so efficiently to the mattress. He was still asleep, but with only his wrists left immobilized, his body soon began to explore its new found freedom. Repetition would quickly restore the Princess to consciousness.

“Con cò bé bé; does Princess Poopy Pants love her mommy?”

“Mama,” Ian replied in a voice still heavy with sleep.

“Mommy's here, Princess, and she loves you sooo much! Does Princess Poopy Pants love her mommy?”

“I wuv mama.” Ian farted, loudly enough to be heard over the video feed. He tried to roll over in Vickie's direction, only to discover that his arms wouldn't cooperate.

“Here comes the tickle monster,” Vickie laughed, attacking his underarms and then blowing kisses on his exposed tummy.

“Stop, mommy! Stop!” Princess Poopy Pants was giggling uncontrollably.

“Ian's subconscious uses the restraints to reinforce the infantile sense of helplessness,” Rita murmured, “justifying his inability to make decisions. Tickling him sends a different message ...”

“Vulnerability. And associate the crib with sex ...”

“Got it in one. We strip away the defenses, giving us a clear line of attack. Are you still planning to spank him?”

“Absolutely! From now on, I'm keeping score, and he's not getting away with anything. There will be lots of spankings.”

“Good. Just make sure that it's the Princess you're spanking. You've now seen the trigger in action, and it should work equally well for you once the Princess also accepts you as her mommy. Punish the Princess, and let her lay a guilt trip on the Major. In the end, it's her pain that will destroy the wall that the subconscious is hiding behind.”

In the crib, Vickie had freed Ian's hands, which the Princess was now using to ward off her relentless assault.

“Here comes the part you are going to love,” Rita continued.

Leaning into the crib, Vickie kissed the Princess on the lips … kissed her hard. Ian's hands, which had been flailing in the air, suddenly settled on her shoulders. He hugged her close, wanting the moment to go on without end.

“Good morning,” she whispered, ending the kiss, their eyes locked on one another.

“Good morning,” he whispered in return, his hand reaching up to caress her cheek.

“Oh, my,” Sarah whispered. “Oh, my.”

“I'll see you at lunchtime,” Rita whispered as she slipped Sarah a piece of paper with the code that would let her into the secure ward.

. . . .

Hands buried deep in the pockets of her winter coat and stomping her feet to ward off the bitter cold gripping the Twin Cities on this, the last Monday in November, Amy Reynolds asked herself yet again why she wasn't taking her mother's offer to move to Phoenix. Amy was thirty-five and divorced, a tall, willowy brunette with jade green eyes. The principal secretary in the Department of East Asian Languages, she made a decent income and lived well, but she was confident that she would also prosper in the warmth of the southwest. So, why wasn't she trading in the kingdom of potholes for the land of cactus and tumbleweeds? The colder it got, the more frequently Amy posed the question. And she never had an answer.

And here she was, standing at the entrance to the parking ramp, card key in hand, waiting for a nurse in the nearby hospital to drive Professor Ian Grady over and dump him in her lap.

What am I doing here?

Amy continued to stomp her feet, asking herself the same question over and over again. Ian didn't have a parking permit, so she was about to hand hers over to a nurse who was just a disembodied voice on the other end of the phone, condemning herself to car pool with friends to and fro for the indefinite future.

Why am I doing this? Get real, Amy; there's no mystery here. You are doing this for Ian.

If first impressions mattered, Amy was honest enough to admit that Ian had made a hell of a first impression back in August, stumbling into the office late one morning after completing the long, long drive up from Southern California. Visibly tired, unshaven, wearing yesterday's clothes, he could easily have passed for one of the vagrants scattered around the edge of downtown. His diaper, to which the Chair had alerted the entire staff in one of those conversations that made it clear that demeaning remarks would get you fired on the spot, wasn't even visible. It wasn't until they had adjourned to his new office, where Ian had confessed to his incontinence while asking her to reach out to janitorial services and advise them to ignore the forthcoming diaper pail and its attendant odor, that the matter had even come up. Right then and there, she had resolved to take him under her wing, beginning with invites to the staff's weekly drunk fests, held late on Friday afternoons in an off campus dive that had already been home to such goings-on before the Second World War. She made sure that his diaper bag was well stocked and, when his car gave up the ghost, she had taken it upon herself to get him home.

One thing had led to another, and inevitably they had ended up in bed. She had ridden her badly disabled vet for more than eight hours, but he wasn't disabled where it counted, and his self-control had taken her breath away. She had stopped counting her orgasms when she hit two dozen; granted, a few had been mere tremors, but three had been so earth shattering that a Richter Scale wouldn't have come close to measuring them. For four days, much to the amusement of friends scattered around campus who knew the score, she had walked in that decidedly bowlegged way that suggested a rookie who had stayed in the saddle far, far too long the first time out of the corral.

And she had backed off, a conscious choice, fearing that it was all spiraling out of control, everything moving too far, too fast.

And now, someone else had snapped him up … someone, or a whole bunch of someones. All Amy knew for sure was that she was about to meet the disembodied voice, and that together they would try and smuggle Ian into his office, and ultimately into his classroom. The Chair had called her at home, warning her that all Hell might break loose before they closed up shop late in the day. She could expect a campus police presence at nine, but until then she was on her own.

Amy had come in on Sunday evening, and she had gone over Ian's personnel file with a microscope. She cursed herself for not taking the time to do so earlier. Now she wondered why it had taken the poachers so long to find him, and she was hoping that the nurse who was apparently doubling as his therapist would be able to fill in some of the blanks. She had already confirmed that her calendar for the weekend was clear. If the Saturday night frolic at Rita Stevenson's was anything like her Friday nights at The Sarge, then December was going to start with one hell of a bang.

. . . .

“There she is,” Ian noted, pointing at the lone figure buried somewhere inside the heavy winter coat. Vickie rolled up to the gate, and reluctantly rolled down the window, the warmth of her automotive cocoon instantly dissipating. She offered a heavily gloved hand, which an equally gloved hand more or less accepted. It was the usual well padded mid-winter handshake. The two women exchanged brief greetings as Amy opened the gate and hopped into the back seat. She told Vickie to head for the second level.

“Amy, this is Vickie,” Ian said as he awkwardly turned to look back over his shoulder. “We're both sorry to put you through this.”

“No need for apologies, Ian,” Amy smiled. “Stuart has always said that we're fortunate to have you, especially given the fact that you would be equally at home in at least six other departments. We're lucky that it took the poachers this long.”

“Is that what you call them,” Vickie asked. “Poachers? We call them headhunters.”

“The corporate types gravitate to the science departments. In the Arts, we mostly deal with raiders from other universities. Ian is unusual because his language skills bridge the gap. Anyway, we have to smuggle him into his first class. Campus police will be waiting at nine, and they'll stick to him like glue for the rest of the day. What are we dealing with?”

“Ian had a seizure that almost landed him in the ER.”

“WHAT? IAN?” Amy impulsively reached out to grip Ian's shoulder, causing him to wince with pain. Hearing the panic in Amy's voice and seeing her concern, Vickie instantly concluded that Ian's secretary had also fallen under his spell. It would make her diaper changing duties proceed more smoothly, but it also meant that there was still another woman roughly her own age to contend with.

“Ian has an issue with decision making,” Vickie continued, “a very serious issue. At all costs, we have to keep him from being ambushed by some asshole with a checkbook. If it comes to it, there are some guys in the hospital who will cheerfully come over here to help out-- the kind of guys who work second jobs as bouncers in very rowdy bars. Ian's made a lot of friends in a very short period of time, so we just have to get through the day and get a handle on the problem.”

“Okay, here's what we're going to do.” Amy instructed Vickie to park in a slot on their right. “We'll take the sky bridge to Theater Arts, go underground to the library, and from there underground to our tower. My office is directly opposite the elevator, so we'll go there first. Ian's office is just around the corner, so we can check to see if the coast is clear. From there, the two of us escort him downstairs to the classroom. Are you by any chance his physician of record?”

“I am. Doctor Victoria Robinson at your service.” For the time being, Vickie decided to steer clear of the fact that she was Ian's therapist. In any event, Vickie was a well trained and experienced practitioner, even if the four years of her Residency were now well in the past. And since Ian was her patient and had not been referred, she actually was his physician of record. Given the battery of tests that she could order, it was not an inconsequential detail, and it brought a smile to her lips. Some of the tests involved enemas, and she personally favored the two quart variety.

“That helps,” Amy smiled. “A lot. The campus police will be impressed.”

“Unfortunately, I can't stay. Once we have Ian settled, I want to look over his office, then I have to get back. Someone from our staff will come over to collect him around quarter after three. He gets two bottles of breast milk mid-morning, four at lunchtime, and two more in mid afternoon.”

“Breast milk?”

“It's complicated,” Vickie shrugged. “His diaper bag also contains the essentials … diapers, vinyl pants, and the key to his locking diaper cover. Don't lose it!”

“You keep his diaper locked away?” Amy couldn't credit what she was hearing. “For God's sake, why?”

“He will no longer be changing his own diapers; those days are over, for good. There is a motion involved that's simply too dangerous.”

The trio had the elevator in Theater Arts to themselves, and likewise the underground passageway to the library. “Amy,” Vickie went on, “I know that you have questions, but if you are still planning to come to our Saturday night frolic, please sit on them until then. Will you be coming?”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world,” Amy grinned as they switched corridors and headed for Ian's office. “And you are always welcome to join us for our late Friday afternoon drunk fest, which has been known to carry on until closing time.”

Now gloveless, the two women cheerfully shook hands. For his part, Ian sensibly chose to keep his mouth shut. Before attempting evasive maneuvers, he would also need to scout out the terrain.

. . . .

“Are you surprised?” Everything about Ian's first class had surprised Vickie. A course that tied introductory Korean to business etiquette was not what she had been expecting, never mind a turnout heavy with well dressed young executives with the obligatory white shirt and dark tie. She suspected that many of them would be exiting class to make the short journey to some bank or office building downtown.

“Not really. This is Monday morning. There's a chance that some eager beaver will show up for Ian's ten o'clock office hour, but it all depends on who's available and how quickly they can be brought up to speed. I'm more concerned about his two o'clock. By then every headhunter in the Cities should be on the same page, but campus police will also be on the ball.”

Amy had escorted Vickie back to Ian's office, where she had watched silently as the nurse systematically unlocked his filing cabinets and desk drawers. Outside the classroom, watching Ian's cheeks turn red with embarrassment as he surrendered his keys, explaining that Vickie had permission to pry into everything in a search for nonexistent booze, had been the one highlight in this otherwise bizarre morning. If there was one given in humanity's realm, it was that grown men with their hands caught in the cookie jar always looked and acted like the small children they really were. Ian was no different, and was not to know how adorable he looked in those moments.

“So, this twelve thirty class of his … it's the same sort of thing? Japanese and Japanese business etiquette for ambitious corporate climbers, all squeezed into the lunch hour five days a week?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, I'd recommend giving him his bottles around nine thirty, eleven thirty and one thirty. Postpone the diaper changes as late as you can, but keep in mind that he will probably be poopy every time. Use lots of powder; we don't want our little stinkpot to offend the paying public.”

“And you really want me to lock this diaper cover over the top of everything?”

“Yeah … the crown jewels are to be kept under lock and key at all times. No access, especially in my case.”

“You love him, don't you?” Vickie was wearing her feelings on her sleeve, but Amy thought it best to let her voice them.

“I do.”

“It must be hard … a doctor falling in love with a patient.”

“It sucks.”

“Are you going to walk away?”

“Hell no! I want to mount him and ride off screaming into the sunset!”

“You'll enjoy it.” Amy's voice was deadpan.

“You've …?”

Amy nodded. “Let's just say that Ian has extraordinary stamina, but his back won't tolerate the missionary position. I rode him … and I couldn't walk straight for four days.”

“Holy shit!! Sarah says that his tongue's the best, and his fingers magical. Holy shit!!”

“Sarah?” Amy frowned. “Who's Sarah?”

“Ian's fiancee. They're getting married on Sunday the twenty-third.”

“Sorry, but I'm totally confused. Do you want to run this by me again?”

“Sure. Sarah's apartment is below Ian's, and a few weeks ago she got so fed up with his stereo that she went up and pounded on the door. About twenty seconds later, Sarah was making wedding plans; she's bossy, and Ian is used to taking orders, so it's a perfect match.”

“But where does this leave you?”

“Sarah introduced Ian to the rest of us last Saturday night. I didn't realize that we were also in love until another patient tried to rip Ian's throat out with his bare teeth over Thanksgiving dinner. I beat him off with a turkey drumstick, and my reward was this earth shattering orgasm when Ian set about licking cranberry sauce off my chest. And then there's Rita ...”

“Oh, don't tell me ...”

“Yep. Oh, she's even slower on the uptake than me, but she's getting there. Anyway, the three of us are going to move in with Rita before the wedding, and then go honeymoon someplace. Sarah's mom is footing the bill for all four of us.”

“After which you will undoubtedly hire an agent and sell the script to a Hollywood studio.” Amy was only a high school graduate, but she was nobody's fool. She didn't think so obvious a spin-off from Three's Company would go anywhere.

“Nope. Then we have to get to work figuring out how we bring Toby and Pete into the country.”

“WHAT.” Amy screeched. “YOU KNOW ABOUT TOBY AND PETE?”

“YOU?” Vickie was equally amazed.

For answer, Amy opened a drawer in one of the filing cabinets, pulled out a folder, and handed it to Vickie. “Take a look,” she urged.

“HOLY SHIT!!!” It was Vickie's turn to screech, this her third “holy shit” in as many minutes. She was looking at a photograph, years old and taken in dense jungle-- a younger Ian dressed in combat fatigues, sitting atop an elephant, the fabled snake draped across his shoulders.

“It's all real.” Vickie was dazed, her hand shaking. “Everything he told us … everything we've been able to get out of him … it's all real ...”

“And you're not making it up as you go along.” Amy was equally dazed. “Thank God that the term's almost over,” she sighed. “When Sorority Row finds out about the wedding, they'll put a bonus on Ian's scalp.”

“SCALPHUNTERS,” Vickie cried. “The sororities are still collecting scalps?”

“You know about that?” Scalp hunting ran across the entire academic year, the winning sorority being the one that seduced the largest number of male faculty, photographic proof required. The sister who topped the list was crowned the Sorority Queen the week before graduation ceremonies commenced.

“Pi Iota Sigma sorority,” Vickie proudly replied. “Or PISS, as it is affectionately known to Greeks everywhere. I bagged nine in my senior year, but that damned Suzie Marshall scalped the entire English department … the whole damned department!”

“And she's still going strong,” Amy gleefully chuckled. “She's your sorority's current house mom. She does the academic report that the Dean passes on to the departments once a year, showing that the house is meeting minimum GPA. Word is that she's systematically working her way through the History Department. She might try to scalp Ian herself.”

“Good luck with that! Ian's diaper cover isn't marketed as a chastity belt, but that's exactly what it's for. She doesn't stand a chance!”

“Unless she gets her hands on a key.” Amy was pointedly tapping one of her pockets. “Want to have some fun?”

“'Fun' is my middle name. But right now I'd like to borrow this photo. There are some guys in the hospital who would be tickled pink to see it.”

“I'll let Ian know, but please bring it back soonest. Anything else?”

“What I came for. We're serious about drying him out. And I need to find his passport. Sarah will need to make a copy for her travel agent.”

“Top desk drawer, right.”

“You've seen it?”

“It makes for interesting reading.”

[CDfm]

Well now you wondering how you are going to fit a fourth woman into this love nest. I am also wondering if it’s going to stop at just four.  You also have me really wanting to get a look at that picture.  I can and have pictured one in my mind but something that great almost needs to be seen in person. In my mind I was questioning how information on Ian spread pretty quickly outside of the hospital.  I have to guess that hospital has some real issues with HIPPA when the Joint Commission time comes around. I am already waiting for the next chapter. 

[Guilend]

Yeah they seem very lax about just telling everyone about Ian's medical and physical health issues like there's no doctor and patient confidentiality or HIPPA. 

I feel like there's a lot missing from when Sarah came back till waking Ian up lol. Like even to them time jump ahead. I figured after Sarah got back they'd tell her everything that happened during his stay, including them each going to take turns helping Princess see them as mommy, but it seems they just skipped some of that till right before they woke him up. Now I wonder how much Sarah even knows. I don't know, I just feel like a lot of information that should've been passed on to Sarah wasn't passed on when it should have. It should have been a priority for at least Rita to have told Sarah everything, if not before she went to Ian's room after she returned then at least after he was put down to sleep.  

[Babypants]

4 hours ago, CDfm said:

You also have me really wanting to get a look at that picture.  I can and have pictured one in my mind but something that great almost needs to be seen in person.

Look up the wikipedia article "Suburban Baths (Pompeii), and you'll find all of the items in question.  

[Babypants]

4 hours ago, CDfm said:

Well now you wondering how you are going to fit a fourth woman into this love nest. I am also wondering if it’s going to stop at just four.

One of the problems with writing in this serial format is that readers can easily lose sense of time passing.  We are now on Monday, but Rita, Vickie and Ian met for the first time barely 10 days ago.  Ian had a romantic life before he met Sarah-- not just Harriet and Amy but also all the single women on the faculty who were cast his way at the faculty parties to which I made passing reference in the beginning.  And you are absolutely right about this not stopping at four.  Why would it?  If you can see beyond the incontinence, Ian would be a very hot commodity in any university meat market.  You will soon be meeting Vickie's archrival, who will try and steal Ian for the simple reason that her competitive spirit compels her to try and take whatever Vickie has.  Once the story shifts to Ian's campus, the floodgates are going to open!  

[Babypants]

20 hours ago, Guilend said:

I feel like there's a lot missing from when Sarah came back till waking Ian up lol. Like even to them time jump ahead. I figured after Sarah got back they'd tell her everything that happened during his stay, including them each going to take turns helping Princess see them as mommy, but it seems they just skipped some of that till right before they woke him up. Now I wonder how much Sarah even knows. I don't know, I just feel like a lot of information that should've been passed on to Sarah wasn't passed on when it should have. It should have been a priority for at least Rita to have told Sarah everything, if not before she went to Ian's room after she returned then at least after he was put down to sleep

This is from scene 7 (Over, Under, Sideways, Down), when Vickie stormed into Rita's office on Wednesday morning and read her the riot act.  

Vickie leaned forward. “Rita, this is really dangerous, and we both know it. Sarah cannot play both roles; the risk to Ian is too great. I do not want her in the room when we're in therapeutic mode. And while we're at it, do I have to remind you that Ian is not our patient, and that we shouldn't be treating him without his permission? That's why I'm really here. I want Ian to become a patient in this ward, and I want him to go through the usual paperwork, and for you to get his signature in all the right boxes.”

“Sarah would never agree to any of this.”

“We aren't going to ask her. She's going to find out after the fact ..."

The agreement that they hammered out is still in play: Vickie manages Ian's therapy, Rita keeps hands off, and they keep Sarah out of the loop.  They tell her nothing until Vickie is confident that she has another piece of the puzzle firmly locked in place.  As the story progresses, this dynamic will not change, although the relationship between Sarah and Vickie is going to get more and more complicated. 

[Babypants]

 

 

On 10/7/2023 at 2:52 PM, CDfm said:

In my mind I was questioning how information on Ian spread pretty quickly outside of the hospital.  I have to guess that hospital has some real issues with HIPPA when the Joint Commission time comes around.

On 10/7/2023 at 4:22 PM, Guilend said:

Yeah they seem very lax about just telling everyone about Ian's medical and physical health issues like there's no doctor and patient confidentiality or HIPPA.

HIPPA was enacted in 1996, while this story is set in 1979.  But Rita and Vicki both take confidentiality very seriously.  The following are cuts from scene 23 (Playing the Field) to prove the point.  And note that Ian is waiving confidentiality:

“Well, get your butt over there, sit down, give him a peck on the cheek, and then lay it out for him. Remind him that he's our patient, has a right to privacy, and that we take this sort of thing rather seriously."

Vickie climbed to her feet, and pulled Ian up to stand beside her. “Let's go collect Rita, and head downstairs. Just remember that someone may ask us about the call that we made for a crash team to stand by. We can hide behind doctor-patient confidentiality, but we can't stop the rumors. Rita and I both think that it would be in your best interest simply to admit that you had an event, that you don't remember the details, and that we are treating you for it. I want our neurology unit to look you over, and this will get you in there quick.”

“But I can't afford ...”

“They'll lose the bill.”

“How about … do I need to sign some kind of waiver to protect Rita … the … the confidentiality thing?”

In the next scene (Blowout), it is Ian who discloses his condition to Manny Cepeda, not Rita or Vickie.

At this point in the story, the campus police know the score because John Lessing has talked to them.  Anything else coming out of the hospital is from a different source altogether!  Now, I wonder what that might be ...

[CDfm]

1 hour ago, Babypants said:

 

 

HIPPA was enacted in 1996, while this story is set in 1979.  But Rita and Vicki both take confidentiality very seriously. 

I guess I didn’t realize that this was taking place in 1979. I just thought that information about Ian’s success with some of the other patients got to the headhunters pretty fast. It was more than just Ian’s information that was being released as well. If something like that happened today, people would be looking for new jobs. I also understand this is a story and am enjoying it as such. 

[Babypants]

20 hours ago, CDfm said:

I guess I didn’t realize that this was taking place in 1979. I just thought that information about Ian’s success with some of the other patients got to the headhunters pretty fast.

Actually, what got to the headhunters very fast was Ian's fluency in Vietnamese, and sitting on his resume is fluency in Khmer and Lao as well.  This is one of the reasons I chose to situate the story in 1979.  From 1975 forward, the Twin Cities was welcoming a steady stream of Vietnamese and Laotian refugees, and by 1979 Cambodians and Hmong were also beginning to surface in significant numbers.  Hospitals and courtrooms desperately needed translators in all four languages, so an underpaid university professor with his background would have set off a feeding frenzy.

But as we shall see, details of his personal life that could only come from the hospital will be floating around campus on this very Monday.  So, rather than a quickie quiz, let's do this one as a "fill in the blank:"

WHAT GROUP OF HOSPITAL EMPLOYEES IS SHARING WHAT THEY HAVE LEARNED ABOUT IAN WITH OTHERS?

 

  

[Guilend]

Will we be seeing a new chapter in the next few days?

[Babypants]

13 hours ago, Guilend said:

Will we be seeing a new chapter in the next few days?

Thanks for asking.  I'm on the road at present, with unreliable computer access.  Hope to post next chapter soon.

[Babypants]

SCALP HUNTING

Suzie Marshall looked up when she heard a gentle knocking on her door. Pi Iota Sigma's den mother was relieved to see that it was one of the Pledges, a vivacious eighteen year old with a bright future in the House. She had a problem that needed to be discreetly addressed, but in the broad scheme of things it was trivial. Three of Suzie's charges had recently taken alcohol and drugs too far at an off campus party that still fell within the jurisdiction of the campus police. Living perpetually on the edge of academic probation, a sorority with a well founded reputation for being party central did not need a senior and two juniors to be running the House even further into the ground. Suzie had a noon appointment in the Dean's office on her calendar, and meetings with Dean Turgeson were always on a par with visits to the dentist.

“You wanted to see me, Mrs. Marshall?” The girl was still standing in the doorway, obviously reluctant to enter.

“Yes, Wendy. Please come in, close the door, and take a seat.” Suzie vaguely gestured at one of the chairs on the other side of the desk.

“Do you know why I've asked you to stop by,” she inquired. This sort of thing always went best when the Pledge took the lead.

“I think so,” Wendy admitted. “Has Monica complained?” Monica Havens was Wendy Stafford's roommate.

“She has.”

“About my bedwetting?”

“Yes, Dear … about your bedwetting.”

“Mrs. Marshall, I don't know what to do,” Wendy cried. “I mean, sure, I wet the bed when I was a kid. I wore diapers at night until I was ten, and my mom went on making me wear them for two more years just to make sure that I was over it. I haven't wet the bed, not even once, since I was ten years old! This isn't fair!!”

“No, it isn't,” Suzie agreed. Wendy was obviously distraught, and it was the house mom's duty to make sure that she didn't go into full melt down. “And I'm sure that it will pass,” she hastened to add. “Believe me, Wendy, you are not the first young woman to sit in that chair with this particular problem. Far from it. It's hard enough for an eighteen year old to leave home for the first time and adjust to life as a freshman at a big university. But the added stress of pledging a sorority as prestigious as Pi Iota Sigma makes it seem like piling on. Once you get your feet solidly on the ground, the bedwetting will stop. But until then, we have to take steps to manage it.”

“What … what do you want me to do?”

“For the time being, I want you to wear diapers and vinyl pants to bed at night. If you reach back into your childhood memories, you'll probably agree that it's better to wake up in a wet diaper than a wet bed. So, we'll bring a diaper pail up from the basement, with some spare deodorizer tablets. We have stacks of diapers in one of the linen cupboards, and as it happens, I have vinyl pants in every size and color. You can choose what you like.”

“Baby diapers,” Wendy sniffled.

“No, Dear; these are adult diapers. You're not a baby, and you most definitely do not need to wear baby diapers! Now, tonight, I'll come up and see to your diapering, but I want to teach you how to manage the problem yourself. And don't worry about Monica; I'll talk to her as well, and make it clear that her role in this is to be a Sister, not a shrew.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Marshall … thank you for being so understanding. And at least I don't poop myself, or need diapers during the day, the way that poor guy in East Asian Languages does.”

“I don't follow, Wendy. What poor guy?”

“Oh, Marilyn Matsumora, one of the Alpha pledges, told me that they have a new professor who needs diapers all the time, and that they're really visible when he turns his back to write on the board. She says that he's some kind of war hero, and that he speaks gazillions of languages. His Japanese apparently leaves hers in the dust, and she grew up speaking Japanese at home. He must really be something!”

“Interesting … very, very interesting. Has Marilyn scalped him?”

“I asked her straight out, and she said 'no'. She's pretty sure that he's off limits because of the diapers and all. I mean, who wants to run the risk of getting crapped on in the middle of … well … you know.”

“I do indeed … I do indeed. Still, it seems grossly unfair to rule him out of bounds just because he's incontinent, and doubly so if it stems from being wounded in battle. My brother is a veteran, and I don't like the way people treat him just because he served in Viet Nam. No … methinks a bounty is called for.”

And maybe … just maybe … I'll collect it myself.

. . . .

“Knock, knock.”

“Victoria!” Manny Cepeda jumped to his feet, a huge grin on his face. “What brings you down to our dungeon of desire?”

“I just dropped Ian off at his office, and had a long and interesting chat with his secretary. If Amy is to be believed, our scandalous behavior pales alongside your run of the mill campus shenanigans. All those curvy coeds apparently can't keep their hands to themselves.”

“It sounds like I'm working for the wrong outfit,” Manny laughed.

“You and me both,” Vickie agreed. “Anyway, Amy was showing me around Ian's office after we sent him off to class, and the subject of Toby and Pete came up. Before you can say Cinco de Mayo, she opens a filing cabinet, grabs a folder, and out pops … ta dah.”

Manny opened the folder, and stared at the photograph. Street Racer was staring back at him. Street Racer, his elephant, and his pet python.

“I thought this might make your day,” Vickie went on; “it sure put a sizable dent in mine.. I'm supposed to return it this afternoon, along with his passport. To put it mildly, Major Grady is a well traveled man.”

“He was just a kid.” Manny was speaking more or less to himself, still fingering the photograph. “So young … we were all so young when we went off to war. Such fools.”

Manny closed the folder. “What are you planning to do with it,” he asked, tapping it with his fingernail.

“I thought I'd share it with everybody in the ward … Sarah and her friends down on three … Amos and Andy ...”

“If Ian approves, why not share it with the whole hospital?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“The bulletin board in the cafeteria. I'll take everything else down. This will get people to look beyond the diapers … give them a glimpse of the man Sarah is going to marry … the warrior.”

“Reiko's samurai.”

“Huh?”

“A warrior from Japan's days of old, when duty and honor were more important than life itself. She saw the truth before the rest of us, but we've all got the message: do not mess with his principles.”

“Stubborn?”

“You have no idea.”

“Okay, so let me hold onto this. Give him a call, and then get back to me.”

. . . .

“So, let's sum up. If you are going to engage in business in Korea, never lose sight of the fact that, before you ever get on the plane, you need to learn as much as you can about your host's family life, personal preferences, and activities outside the workplace.”

Ian heard the door at the back of the classroom open, and was relieved to see a uniformed police officer step inside. The lady made an imposing presence.

“Jeong gets your foot in the door, but it's reciprocity that will make or break the relationship. You cannot give your host a six pack in return for a bottle of expensive scotch. You insult your host, and lose face in the process. Conversely, you cannot offer him a still more expensive bottle of scotch because you embarrass your host, causing him to lose face. Equal value is the goal in gift-giving, so think in terms of blurring comparisons-- an Italian silk tie in exchange for that bottle of scotch, if your research has told you that your host wears Italian silk ties. Don't give golf balls to a guy who only plays tennis!”

Ian's last remark earned him a few chuckles. Some of the suits in his classes clearly regarded their superiors as morons.

“Okay, tomorrow it's all hands on deck, so bring both. We are going to swim in the treacherous waters of Korean table etiquette, where many a promising business relationship has gone astray. Study the glossary in chapter 16 of Russell, and use it to construct a few obvious sentences, stuff like 'I would like to propose a toast'. Use your imagination, but park your sense of humor at the door.”

Ian took a few questions from students lingering after class, then walked up the aisle to introduce himself. Even at a distance, he could see that the lady cop was sporting a Colt 1911, his own weapon of choice in Viet Nam, rather than the usual Smith and Wesson.

“Personal choice or department issue,” he asked, pointing at the holster.

“Personal choice. I don't need a cannon on this job, and the .38 is strictly for senior citizens.”

“Ian Grady.”

“Priscilla Canon … and don't go there. Believe me, I've heard the lot.”

“So, if Prissy's out, am I stuck with Priscilla?”

“You could try Officer Canon. And what's your preference?”

“Ian in private, but Professor Grady will do the trick in public.”

“Your secretary tells me that you're ex-military, and that you have the scars to prove it.”

“Yeah … from stem to stern, so to speak.”

“Well, a word to the wise. Your diaper isn't exactly what I would call well-hidden.”

“Couldn't care less. And don't worry. Amy's got the diaper changing duty until Sarah or Vickie comes over from the hospital sometime after three to collect me.”

“And they are?”

“Fiancee and girlfriend respectively.”

“How very European.”

“More like Middle Eastern … we can't leave Rita out of the mix.”

“Another girlfriend?”

“Hard to tell. We're supposed to sit down on Thursday and bare our souls.”

“Professor Grady,” Priscilla laughed, “you are definitely not your typical faculty member. So, why don't we make a run for it? You can fill me in on the rest of it when we get back to your office.”

“Is the coast clear?”

“Wait one.” Priscilla opened the door, and looked around. “For the moment.”

In the elevator, Priscilla and Ian took one another's measure. He reckoned that she was in her mid to late twenties, with hair somewhere between auburn and red. Two or three inches shorter than his own five foot ten, and solidly built rather than statuesque. Priscilla definitely looked like she could hold her own in a bar room brawl.

“How did you become a cop?”

“Dad's a cop … grandad was a cop … and would you believe that my mom's both a lawyer and a private eye? In the trade, they call her Julia Twinkletoes because she's light on her feet and never misses the mark!”

. . . .

When Ian entered his office, the phone was ringing. He wondered whether it was a headhunter looking for an appointment, but there was only one way to find out.

“Professor Grady.”

“Hi, Ian … how did it go?”

“Like clockwork, Vic. The campus police came through, and right on schedule. I have a uniformed police officer standing guard outside my office as we speak. I owe Professor Lessing big time.”

“That's me breathing a big sigh of relief,” Vickie replied, breathing dramatically into the phone. “I just wanted to let you know that I've got your passport. We'll copy it off, and I'll return it this afternoon.”

“No hurry.”

“I also borrowed the photograph … the one in the jungle featuring Toby and Pete. I thought that Manny would get a kick out of it, and he did. In fact, he wants to put it up on the cafeteria bulletin board and show everyone what a dashing hero Sarah is going to marry. That okay with you?”

“Sure, but I'd downplay the hero bit. We've talked about this before, Vic; Audie Murphy I am not.”

“That's true … you're a lot better looking!”

. . . .

Vickie hung up, called Manny first, and then dialed Sarah's station. She was relieved when Sarah picked up. “First things first. Everything went as planned. Amy and I escorted him to class without incident, and there'll be a campus police officer sticking to him like glue for the rest of the day. You good to go at three?”

“No,” Sarah sighed. “I owe Heidi big time, and I won't be able to balance the scales at Christmas. So I'm hanging on until seven, which will give her time to have dinner with her family. I'll work half her shift through Tuesday next.”

“That's life in the big city,” Vickie replied, knowing that every doctor and nurse on staff had made similar compromises with reality. Doctors Kildare and Casey, never mind the daytime soap opera jerks, were all practicing medicine in Fantasyland.

“I'll take care of Ian; don't worry about it. But haul your ass down to the cafeteria at lunchtime.”

“Something good on the menu … for a change?”

“Probably not. But take a look at the bulletin board. And if you start crying? Just let the tears flow. I did. God knows, I did.”

. . . .

“It's a tricky situation,” Priscilla went on. They were back in Ian's office, the ten o'clock office hour fast approaching. “Technically, your office hours are open to all, including any Tom, Dick or Harry who wanders in off the street. We can limit immediate access to the students in your classes, and require everyone else to make an appointment, but if a headhunter shows up and there's no one else here? Ian, it's tricky.”

“Officer Canon, do you realize that this is the first time you've addressed me by name?”

“Pris … not Prissy, Pris. And yes, I'm well aware. Ian, do you have this effect on all the women in your life? I mean, really … your diaper is so pronounced. Walking down the hall? All I wanted to do was pat your behind, and tell you that I'd make everything okay. Honestly? I feel ridiculous.”

“Well, at least you are not demanding to breast feed me! Talk about feeling ridiculous! Pris, I have three women running my life who want me to drink thirty-six bottles of breast milk today. Today, for God's sake! And all in preparation for a day in the not too distant future when the four of us will be living under the same roof, and they'll be nursing me. Do the math. That's six tits a day, times what? Breakfast, lunch and dinner, with snacks in between and at bedtime? There's your thirty-six. I'm gonna drown in this shit!”

“So, tell them to piss off.”

“I can't. I made a promise. I knew the consequences, and I made it anyway. I don't break promises.”

“And you'll keep this promise. It's funny, We've known each other for what? Thirty minutes? Forty? But you bleed integrity; it's pouring out of you. It's no wonder you've got all these women crawling all over you. There comes a point when women stop fooling around, and start looking for a guy whose honest and reliable … loyal … a good provider and role model for their children. You're it.”

“Diapers and all?”

“Forget the diapers. They make you vulnerable, and women swoon over vulnerability! Are Sarah, Rita and Vickie complaining about your diapers?”

“No ...”

“Of course not! Changing you empowers them! Have they collected your sperm yet?”

“On Saturday.”

“Katie bar the door! If the little fellows are hale and hearty, what are the odds that you're going to be a daddy a year from now? A daddy times three? Ian, your diapers are going to get lost in the crowd!”

“Good thing? Bad thing?”

“Who knows? Now what are we going to do about the headhunters?”

“Play it by ear, I guess. If they get too aggressive, throw them out. If they're well mannered, I'll try and redirect them to Sarah. It's her decision, not mine.”

“Can I interrupt,” Amy said as she knocked on the door. “It's time for Ian's first two ba bas, with a diaper change to follow. Same scenario at eleven thirty and one thirty.”

“Can I watch?” Priscilla was genuinely curious, never having dealt with a diapered adult before.

“Are you sure? His poopy diapers are not for the faint of heart.”

“I've handled fresh road kill,” Priscilla scoffed. “And besides, you should have back up, and I'm here for the duration. Show me what to do, and I'll do it.”

“Fine. First thing is to get comfortable down on the floor.” Amy kicked off her shoes, and dropped down. She made herself comfortable, resting her back against Ian's desk.

“Then cradle him in your arms and bottle feed him just like any other baby. Burp him, then move on to his diapers. Use baby wipes and powder … four pins … the usual drill. Nothing's different except the size of your baby.”

“Is that how you think of him? A baby?”

“What else? All men are babies; Ian's diapers just make it more obvious. With effort, he can struggle up to adulthood, but it does take effort. So, you want to take advantage of the adult when he shows up. I did.”

Priscilla stared hard at Amy, and the cop in her could tell instantly that she wasn't exaggerating. She had scalped him, and the knowing smirk on her face made it crystal clear that she had had a very good time in the process.

. . . .

“Don't you have a job to do,” Rita snorted as Sarah walked in the door. “And who gave you the code?”

“I believe that would be … um … you?” Sarah settled into the only chair not piled high with files. “First, I got a call from Vickie, ordering me to hit the cafeteria for lunch. She apparently found a photo in Ian's office that Manny thinks the entire hospital needs to see. He's putting it on the bulletin board. Then it was Candy's turn. She told me to drop everything and get up here. She's got Ian's lab results, and wants to run it by the three of us. So, as soon as Vic shows up ...”

“And here we are,” Vickie announced as she came through the door with Candy in tow. Unceremoniously dumping the stack of files on the floor, she plopped down in the seat, leaving it to Candy to collect a chair from the foyer, and close the door behind her.

“Ian's sperm study.” Candy pulled a slender, white envelope from her coat pocket, and waved it in the air. “Linda's sitting on the results, but it's not every day that someone from this ward submits a sample, so there's bound to be speculation. At a minimum, you should expect a lot of curious looks.”

No one said anything, everyone waiting for Candy to continue.

“Okay; here we go. We're looking at a sperm count of one hundred and eighty million per milliliter, totaling nine hundred and two million for the ejaculate sample.”

“HOLY SHIT!” Rita had bounced halfway out of her chair.“

The semen profile is characterized as 'thick'. Candy had an impish grin. “On the q. t., Linda says that there's a reasonable chance you'd get pregnant if you swabbed the stuff, coated the tip of his tongue, and put him through his paces, although speed would be of the essence, and you would need to be well lubricated.”

“No, thank you,” Vickie huffed; “mine will not be an immaculate conception!”

“Sperm morphology scored at eighty percent, with progressive motility a consistent sixty seven percent across five samples.”

“HOLY SHIT,” Rita repeated as she grabbed her calculator and started running the numbers. “Times point eight,” she muttered, “then times point six seven … he's putting out four hundred and eighty three million healthy swimmers per cum, which equals ninety six million plus per milliliter. MY GOD!!”

“If you were to give him a ruined orgasm,” Candy concluded, “the three of you could get pregnant simultaneously.”

Rita, Sarah and Vickie stared at one another, another round of “holy shits” exploding into the air.

“Ian would make a field bet,” Vickie suddenly screeched. “Everybody else would bet on one or the other of us, but he'd bet on all three of us delivering on the same day. My God, we could make a fortune!!!”

“Wait a second,” Sarah protested. “Do you mean to say that you … that you're planning on …? Shouldn't we talk about this?” Sarah was looking at Rita for support. “I mean, seriously; he's not a Sultan, and we're not his harem. So, we're just talking fantasy here, right? Like the Vikings ever winning the Super Bowl?”

But Rita clearly wasn't listening. Eyes closed, leaning back in her chair, she was just as clearly contemplating the possibilities.

. . . .

“Priscilla, I'm proud of you. You didn't faint. You didn't pinch your nose. Nope. You just stood there and watched, like you were taking mental notes or something.” Ian was referring to his diaper change, which Amy had smoothly executed. Another pee soaked, poop saturated diaper had vanished into the pail, then a fresh diaper, loads of baby powder, the pinning, the vinyl pants, and the locking diaper cover. Watching closely, Ian saw the young police officer's eyes widen as the lock clicked home. He would have bet anything that his makeshift chastity belt was giving her ideas. Ian wondered if Priscilla had a boyfriend.

“I was taking notes,” Officer Canon confirmed. “The four pin method is new to me. Why go through the extra effort?”

Three students had taken advantage of his office hours, all coeds whom he had been coaching weekly for the past two months. They managed the odor from his diaper pail with grace, and he was proud of the fact that their performance in the classroom had shown dramatic improvement.

“It helps with diaper sag,” Ian shrugged, “and it offers better protection against leaks. You can always tell when a diaper has overstayed its welcome when you get wet spots here and here.” Ian patted both cheeks, just beyond the reach of his pockets.

“That's good to know … and it must be so embarrassing to be working on the blackboard, your back turned to the class. The bulk makes it so obvious that you are wearing a diaper.”

“It is what it is.” Ian shrugged again. “And it's not the end of the world … not even close.”

“I want to diaper you,” Priscilla blurted out. “And give you your bottles. The way Amy was holding you? It looked so peaceful … so natural.”

“That's fine by me, but it's for you and Amy to work out.”

At that moment, the telephone rang, startling them both. It had sat silent throughout the office hour.

“Good morning, Professor Grady here. How may I help you?”

“Suzie Marshall here, Professor-- and no, we haven't met. I'm the Pi Iota Sigma sorority's house mother, and I have a problem that I'm hoping you can help me with. The matter is somewhat delicate, and let me apologize in advance if I offend you by bringing it up.”

“You've aroused my curiosity, Miss Marshall … or is it Mrs. Marshall?”

“Marshall is my maiden name, Professor, which I took back when I divorced. Still, for some reason the girls all call me Mrs. Marshall. Go figure.”

“And what can I do for you?”

“We have a Pledge … a first year student, who shows a great deal of promise, but she's having a difficult time adjusting to campus life. Wendy's eighteen, and is wetting the bed; she says for the first time since she was ten. The problem is bad enough that she has agreed to wear diapers and vinyl pants at night. We have an ample supply of both-- the problem pops up every couple of years or so-- but every time we go through this, there's a self esteem issue that has to be addressed. It's going to be rough for Wendy in particular because she was born and raised in a small town outstate.”

“And how can I help?”

“Wendy knows about your battle with incontinence, so I'm hoping that you would be willing to give her a pep talk … something along the lines of it not being the end of the world to wear a diaper to bed at night. I want her to be encouraged, not discouraged.”

“Well, I'll be happy to do what I can. Can you manage my office hour at two?”

“Yes. I know her schedule, and she's free. We'd both be honored to meet you.”

“Then I'll see you then. Oh, and Miss Marshall, please bring one of her diapers, four pins, and a pair of vinyl pants with you. After so many years, she might need a few tips. As the saying goes, 'if a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing well'.”

When Ian hung up and turned around, he found Priscilla looking at him quizzically. “Suzie Marshall by any chance? The Pi Iota Sigma house mom?”

“One and the same.”

“Interesting. We arrested three members of the sorority at a party last weekend that got more than a little out of hand. We're talking out of hand as in smoking pot and drinking hard liquor out in the street at one in the morning. We expect students to push the boundaries, but we can only overlook so much. This we could not overlook. That sorority has a reputation for being a party house, and it's well deserved. A dozen years ago, Suzie was running wild on this campus, and if my sources are accurate, she hasn't changed much. So, be careful; Suzie is big on seducing male faculty-- a game the sororities call scalp hunting. Try not to get scalped.”

“I have a confession to make,” Ian laughed. “I don't have the key to this chastity belt of mine, to call it what it really is. Amy can unlock it, and if she agrees to share diaper changing duty with you, she'll pass you the key. Somehow, I don't think the voluptuous Suzie Marshall is going to persuade you to hand it over. She is voluptuous, isn't she?”

“Very,” Officer Canon grinned.

“Very.”

[Babypants]

Quickie campus quiz:

In what academic year is a sorority member most likely to live in the sorority house?

A.  Freshman

B.  Sophomore

C.  Junior

D.  Senior

[Guilend]

I've never got a higher education, but I'll go with B for arguments sake lol.

[Babypants]

22 hours ago, Guilend said:

I've never got a higher education, but I'll go with B for arguments sake lol.

Correct.  Most first year students who rush a sorority or fraternity will, if accepted, move into the house for their sophomore year.  In fact, many houses require sophomores to remain in residence for the whole of this academic term.  Students who move into a fraternity or sorority in their freshman year are typically "legacies," that is, students who had an older relation in their immediate family in the chapter (typically an older sibling or parent).  Multi generational family affiliation is not uncommon.