Babypants Posted November 29, 2023 Author Share Posted November 29, 2023 AUTHOR'S NOTE: I strongly recommend reading scene 37 in An Homage to Vincent Vega BEFORE reading this scene. THE DIAPER FANTASIES OF TIPPI BJORNSEN Well, at least the files are in good order. Julia sighed heavily. She had returned to Lullaby's office some ninety minutes earlier, and she had just closed the cover on her seventh file. Harriet had given her an unused desk (no charge for the cobwebs) on the opposite side of the room, next to an imposing row of tall filing cabinets where former employees and customers, or at least the lives that they led on paper, went to die. There were two things that Julia hated about her line of work. The first was stakeouts, which were simply boring. The second was looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack, in the form of a file that pointed a finger in the direction of an aggrieved client or employee. Desk work was boring, but it was also demanding: name … last known address and telephone number … social security number … work history … education. There were clues scattered everywhere, if you just knew how to look for them. Very few people knew, for example, that the first three numbers on a Social Security card were an area code, with all cards issued in the state of Minnesota falling between 468 and 477. A Minnesota social security number would go unnoticed in Honolulu, but a Hawaiian number in a minimum wage job in Minnesota screamed fake. A cheap fake driver's license that would pass muster in San Diego would get you arrested immediately in Spearfish, South Dakota. In the upper Midwest one had to lay out big bucks to buy convincing fakes-- and Lullaby's employees did not earn that kind of paycheck. Where Julia struck gold in the files was the canceled checks. The people who were sent in to sabotage a business were well paid for their efforts, and the paychecks earned from forty hours at minimum wage often took an abnormally long time to pass through the bank, when the mole bothered to cash them at all. Over the years, Julia had busted no less than seven people who had simply failed to cover their tracks sufficiently well to defeat a determined investigator. And so she went through the checks, which Spats Belmondo's various managers had neatly bundled and slipped into the files-- year after year of canceled checks. And in seven files, she had found nothing suspicious. Given that Harriet supervised one person in the office, three drivers, and four people in the laundry, this was not a big operation. At most, it would take her only one more day to put everyone who had worked for Lullaby over the last decade under the microscope. She would keep at it, but in her heart she knew that this would turn out to be another wild goose chase. . . . . When Tippi got off the elevator and went around the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks. She was expecting a crowd, and she wasn't disappointed; after all, Suzie Marshall's mob had put a bounty on the guy's head, so it stood to reason that the sororities would be here in force. In fact, she caught a glimpse of one of her Sisters sitting on the floor on the other side of the prof's office door. No, what caught her off guard was the cop sitting on a chair, and the three well dressed, middle aged guys in their tailored suits. The cop she recognized at once: Priscilla Canon, buster of frat parties extraordinaire. What is she doing here? For that matter, what were the suits doing here? Only one way to find out, she thought as she began to wind her way between the bodies that separated her from Kimberly Doyle, one of the Seniors in her house. “What's going on,” she whispered as she slid down the wall to sit at Kimberly's side. “Poachers.” Kimberly nodded in the direction of the suits. “The prof apparently speaks gazillions of languages, and the usual suspects are looking to pry him away from our clutches. The sisterhood has turned out in force to make sure it doesn't happen, and the cop is here to keep order.” “What's this got to do with PISS putting a bounty on the guy's scalp?” “Nothing. He's new, single, and engaged; by definition, that puts him top of the food chain.” “I'll say! But would he be any good to eat? Have you seen him?” “Yeah. He's okay … I mean, no Robert Redford, but he's easy on the eyes. But you can't miss the diapers; it's like he's wearing a bunch of bath towels under his pants.” “WHAT! Diapers? Kim, what are you talking about?” “Haven't you heard? It's all over frat row. He's some kind of war hero … Viet Nam, maybe … I don't know. He's supposed to have been badly wounded, came home with medals up the ying-yang. And he's volunteering over at the hospital, helping other vets … you know, the kind of guys who sleep on park benches.” “Wow! Does it look like anybody's scoring?” “Don't think so. A Sister goes in for five minutes, then comes out with a sheet of paper in her hand. I'm guessing that it's a copy of his resume. If you want to have a go, just step right up. Most of us are here because of the poachers; the diapers are a real turn off.” “Not for me,” Tippi muttered as she climbed to her feet and waded through bodies to end up in front of Officer Canon. Maybe the prof could point her in the direction of another stash of adult diapers. “Does he have time for one more,” she asked, knowing that his scheduled office hour had not yet run its course. “You can go in next,” the police woman replied. A couple of minutes later the door opened, and a Sister whom she vaguely recognized from some frat party or other exited, sheet of paper in hand. The professor smiled, extended his hand in welcome, and invited her into his office. To her surprise, Office Canon stood up just long enough to shut the door behind them. When he walked around the desk to resume his seat, Tippi couldn't help but stare at his ass. Kimberly was right; the diapers were so thick that she would have sworn he had a pillow stuffed inside his pants. You couldn't miss them. “And you are,” he asked politely. “Tippi … Tippi Bjornsen.” “It's nice to meet you, Tippi, and thank you for helping out … I'm grateful to everyone who's helping to keep the headhunters at bay.” “Oh, you're welcome,” she replied with her most dazzling smile. “We don't like poachers muscling in on our territory.” “I presume that we're talking about scalp hunting.” “Oh, yes. You're the ultimate trophy … a new professor, unmarried but engaged, who's never been scalped. You're the catch of the year.” “Are students the only one who can scalp me?” “No, not at all. Faculty, staff, even the janitors, cooks and bottle washers-- every woman on campus is entitled to play. But the sororities are the only group formally to crown a champion at the end of the Spring term. It's one of the most coveted honors, especially for Seniors.” “I see.” Ian paused, knitting his brow, deep in thought. “But I'm afraid that you're doomed to disappointment,” he continued, “because I have been scalped, and more than once … two secretaries, an unmarried member of the faculty … I could go on, but I don't want to brag.” “Did they take photographs,” Tippi fired back. “No.” “Then you haven't been scalped. Proof is required.” Ian laughed so hard that he began to cough. Tippi waited patiently for him to regain control. “And are you here to collect the bounty?” “It would be fun,” she conceded with another dazzling smile, “but actually I came here looking for help.” “Hmm.” Not seeing the angle, Ian chose once again to adopt what he called his 'deep in thought' expression. He had practiced in front of a mirror, searching for something convincingly enigmatic. “It's … um … it's about your diapers. My granddad needs them, but my parents … he lives with them … they don't know what to buy. I was hoping that you could give me some pointers that I can pass along to my mom.” “Sure thing.” Ian got up and rounded the desk to collect his diaper bag. He opened it, and put a spare diaper and vinyl pants atop his desk. Tippi stared at the diaper; it was huge, and incredibly thick. The vinyl pants were transparent, just like the baby pants that she had pulled up over the diapers of the kids that she had babysat in her early and mid teens. Just looking at the diaper and pants, knowing that she could buy the latter in an equally transparent pastel shade of pink, imagining pinning the diaper on some gullible guy with a big brain and no social life … pulling up the pink baby pants … she could feel her panties getting damp, her juices starting to flow. “It's really thick,” she proclaimed as she ran her fingers over the diaper, caressing it. “Where did you find it?” “One of the hospital wards supplies me-- free of charge, I might add. I volunteer to help vets with mental health issues, and this is my compensation. It's great because payment in kind isn't taxable … a win, win situation for both parties.” “Do you really need something this thick?” “At night, for sure. During the day? I could probably get by with something thinner, combined with using baby diapers as stuffers. But the hospital only uses this one style. If you're interested, I'd suggest that you call their housekeeping department. You might also try the local diaper services; depending on where your parents live, they might also be able to help.” You have no idea, Tippi thought, her panties getting more and more damp. And you have no idea how much I'd like to pull down your pants and change you right here and now! You would look so cute in pink baby pants! It was at this moment, when she was knee deep in an intense and very satisfying fantasy, that the telephone rang. Ian picked up the phone. “Professor Grady,” he offered. Tippi let her mind wander. She was imagining the heavily diapered professor on his knees, licking her to a mind altering orgasm, then begging her to change his wet and dirty diapee … Chastity belt? Did I hear that right? In addition to everything else, he's wearing a chastity belt? Wow! Tippi began to follow the conversation much more closely. Spanking? He lets her spank him? Wow! Sitting quietly, her panties going from damp to wet, Tippi couldn't help but notice how uncomfortable the prof looked whenever he glanced her way. And he damned well should be uncomfortable! Playing games with a bunch of kinky coeds is one thing, but turning them loose on your fiancee is way over the line! I hope she spanks the shit out of him-- and I'd like to watch! In due course, the conversation came to an end, and Ian hung up the phone. “Well, that was fun,” he said defensively. “Sarah … the lady on the other end of the phone? She's my fiancee, and in our relationship she leads and I follow, but if you'll pardon the pun, we're still working out the kinks.” “And she really spanks you?” “She does.” Wow! “And are you really wearing a chastity belt?” Tippi was squirming a bit in her seat, her panties now a bit too squishy for comfort. “Not really,” he chuckled. It's actually a canvas diaper cover that prevents my underwear, if you want to call it that, from ending up around my knees. But it locks and I don't have the key, so in a manner of speaking ...” Incredible! If I had the key, you would be my diaper slave! Forever! And I want to spank you, and listen to you beg for mercy when you have a diaper rash and I've got the paddle in my hand … “So, it's true then … I mean, what I'm hearing all over campus … you know, from girls who volunteer as candy stripers at the hospital? That you're this great, big war hero who volunteers his time to help troubled vets, despite having problems of your own. Is that why you call her Mommy … because she changes your diapers?” “That's part of it,” Ian agreed; “a bit of pretending makes things less awkward, and a great deal less embarrassing.” It wouldn't be pretending if you were my diaper slave ... “But it's only part, not the whole. I have a problem making decisions because I tend to overthink things, but Sarah is just the opposite. I'm an academic who walks around with his head in the clouds, forever chasing his own tail, while she's a practical nurse who just gets on with it. This is so much a part of who we are as a couple that calling her mommy seems natural to me. And I'm pretty sure that at times she regards me as an overgrown toddler, hence the occasional spanking.” I want to hear you call me Mommy. I want to hear you cry and cry like a little baby when I spank your bottom. God, if I only had the key ... “Do you like it … I mean … when she spanks you? I spanked my last boyfriend, and he really got off on it.” “Nope. When she spanks me, it hurts. Again, she's a nurse, so she knows how to make it hurt … and it does.” And did you cry and cry, like a little baby? Does your mommy let her friends spank you? I would, you know … everyone in the house gets paddled when they're initiated. Would you like to be spanked by fifty hot chicks? Live in the sorority as our little baby girl? “I still don't understand. I mean … like, you must have killed a lot of people out there, so why do you put up with it? The candy stripers keep saying that everybody likes you, so why don't you go with someone who treats you better?” “Now that,” Ian nodded, “is a very good question, and it goes to the heart of what makes a relationship succeed or fail. People who don't care about you will tell you what you want to hear just to get you off their backs.” You just described my last boyfriend ... Ian went on and on, dishing out the same crap she had heard from her high school counselor. He'd look good with a pacifier in his mouth, and it would shut him up! “And now there's a bounty on your head, but you're wearing what amounts to a chastity belt and of course you don't have the key. What a shame.” Because if I ever lay my hands on that damned key, you're mine … all mine ... Ian handed her a copy of his resume from the stack on the corner of his desk. “You could always call her,” he suggested. “Would it do any good?” “Not really.” “I didn't think so … because if you were my boyfriend, I wouldn't share you with anybody!” Except for the spankings, of course, and drawing straws to see who gets to change your shitty diapers ... Tippi put Ian's resume back on the stack, and got up to leave, but she paused with her hand on the doorknob. “When I came here today,” she said over her shoulder, “I didn't understand how any woman could be so desperate that she would willingly sleep with a guy who's disabled … reduced to wearing diapers. But now? Now I think that this Sarah of yours might be the luckiest woman on Earth." 2 Link to comment
Bluebird67 Posted November 29, 2023 Share Posted November 29, 2023 Tippi is certainly an interesting piece of work! Kind of the antithesis of Ian: selfish, scheming and sadistic. I look forward to Ian or Julia getting her measure. 2 Link to comment
Babypants Posted November 30, 2023 Author Share Posted November 30, 2023 3 hours ago, Bluebird67 said: Tippi is certainly an interesting piece of work! Kind of the antithesis of Ian: selfish, scheming and sadistic. I look forward to Ian or Julia getting her measure. Tippi is definitely a piece of work, but perhaps she should take up her issues with her parents, who obviously didn't do her a favor at birth. How long before someone on the playground yelled out "Tipsy Tippi, Tipsy Tippi?" What do you think? Should we consign Tippi later in the story to a therapist, and if so, whom would you nominate to take her on? 1 Link to comment
Guilend Posted November 30, 2023 Share Posted November 30, 2023 I think that Tippi should be careful, If her panties get anymore wet she'd need diapers lol. I'm curious if she will now have a hole inside her that needs to be filled so while waiting and scheming to get Ian, who and what will she do to fill this need? Will she take it out on one of her sorority sisters? Maybe that one girl that said they should study instead of blackmail for good grades. All I do know is she better watch her step or she will be the one with a sore bottom wearing her own chastity diaper lol. 2 Link to comment
littlebopeeper Posted December 1, 2023 Share Posted December 1, 2023 On 11/29/2023 at 7:56 PM, Babypants said: What do you think? Should we consign Tippi later in the story to a therapist, and if so, whom would you nominate to take her on? Definitely! She could take Ian's place in the psych ward, complete with crib and restraints. And when she's not in therapy, she should be working as a candy striper under Sarah's supervision, Think of all the bed pans that need to be emptied, and all the vomit that needs to be wiped up. And I would choose Vickie to be her therapist because, being locked in diaper chastity, they would have a lot in common. 1 Link to comment
Guilend Posted December 1, 2023 Share Posted December 1, 2023 3 hours ago, littlebopeeper said: Definitely! She could take Ian's place in the psych ward, complete with crib and restraints. And when she's not in therapy, she should be working as a candy striper under Sarah's supervision, Think of all the bed pans that need to be emptied, and all the vomit that needs to be wiped up. And I would choose Vickie to be her therapist because, being locked in diaper chastity, they would have a lot in common. I second this lol 1 Link to comment
Babypants Posted December 6, 2023 Author Share Posted December 6, 2023 On 12/1/2023 at 1:22 AM, Guilend said: I second this lol Assuming that Twinkletoes is going to nab Tippi and her friends, Sarah supervising Tippi would be a hoot. So, I like the idea of making her do community service in the hospital. How about forcing her to move to PISS, where Suzie Marshall would be responsible for her diapering? Should she be sent to the psych ward, or to the library? And what about the other members of this gang? What do you think Spats Belmondo would want to do with them? Lots of ways to play this, so i am very much open to and thankful for suggestions. Link to comment
Guilend Posted December 6, 2023 Share Posted December 6, 2023 2 hours ago, Babypants said: Assuming that Twinkletoes is going to nab Tippi and her friends, Sarah supervising Tippi would be a hoot. So, I like the idea of making her do community service in the hospital. How about forcing her to move to PISS, where Suzie Marshall would be responsible for her diapering? Should she be sent to the psych ward, or to the library? And what about the other members of this gang? What do you think Spats Belmondo would want to do with them? Lots of ways to play this, so i am very much open to and thankful for suggestions. I definitely like her being under Suzie. I think library. Also I think the rest of the gang, since they like stealing diapers, they can work off their "debt" to the crime boss by working for him in the diaper company, be spanked of course and have to wear diapers at all times. Might even find out during the spanking that one of them really likes it and during an embarrassing messy diaper change by their boss they now work under or whoever is in charge of changing them, it's discovered the same one gets quite excited in her messy diapers lol. Which of course the one doing the changing happily points out and teases her about it in front of the other girls lol. 1 Link to comment
Babypants Posted December 10, 2023 Author Share Posted December 10, 2023 LULLABY DIAPER SERVICE Polishing off her eleventh file, Julia glanced up at the clock. It was now a few minutes after four, and the diaper service was scheduled to close at five. Where was Priscilla, and did she have the professor in tow? If she was going to run late, why didn't she call? . . . . Priscilla was listening to the lady headhunter's presentation, and heartily approved of the strategy that she was laying out for Sarah Haikonnen. The university's senior administrators all had unallocated funds in their budgets, and dipping into the war chest to preempt raids on productive faculty was a routine practice. An outside offer would give Ian's department chair the ammunition that he needed to raid the till, and multiple outside offers would give him still more leverage. Sarah's body language told Priscilla that she liked what she was hearing, and the way she was leaning forward also gave Pris a bird's eye view of Sarah's cleavage. She was, to put it mildly, very well endowed, and in her imagination Priscilla kept seeing little baby Ian cradled in the arms of this blonde, blue eyed Scandinavian giant, and drinking his fill. How did he put it? Breakfast, lunch and dinner, with mid morning and mid afternoon snacks and a bedtime treat? Two tits six times a day? And then there's Vickie, who would have given Helen of Troy a run for her money. That's two more tits … and then there's Rita. Priscilla didn't know whether to pity Ian, or to envy him. If it was possible to live in Heaven and Hell simultaneously, she reckoned that his would soon be the most authoritative voice in the country, if not the world. For sure, if he were to write a tell-all book, it would become an instant best seller. But Priscilla was also watching Ian closely. Walking in from the parking lot, she had heard him twice gasp in pain before staggering into the wall. She had wrapped an arm around him, steadying him, and then taking his weight as they continued their journey to the post operative critical care unit on the third floor. He was seated now, his discomfort still obvious, and Vickie had rushed off to get help. At a minimum, it looked like he would need a wheelchair to get back to the car. And his fiancee isn't even giving him the time of day. What's wrong with this picture? . . . . The telephone rang, but Julia ignored it. After all, Lullaby Diaper Service was a business, and a business whose telephone sat silent hour after hour was on the fast track to bankruptcy. “Julia, it's for you; a Doctor Robinson is calling from the hospital.” Harriet was holding the phone out in her direction. It took Julia a moment to recognize the name. It had come up last night at the dinner table-- the professor, she now recalled, was Victoria Robinson's patient. Julia walked across the room, her sense of alarm growing with each step. Priscilla, Vickie and the professor were supposed to be en route to Lullaby. Unscheduled visits to a hospital typically meant bad news for somebody. “This is Julia Canon. Doctor, is my daughter all right?” Listening to the voice on the other end of the line, Julia let out a relieved sigh. “Give me a moment,” she replied when Vickie finished; “I'll ask them.” “She says that they had to make a stop at the hospital,” Julia explained. “Professor Grady had some kind of episode, and they've taken him to X ray for evaluation. She doesn't know how long they'll be delayed, and wants to know whether we want to hang on or call it a day.” “Ian,” Harriet yelled as she jumped to her feet. “What's happened to Ian?” Julia blinked in surprise. Harriet's reaction was totally unexpected; clearly, there was more going on here than met the eye. Returning to the phone, knowing that the doctor and the professor had a personal relationship, Julia instantly decided to be as diplomatic as possible. “Harriet wants to know what happened, and how Professor Grady is doing.” She kept her voice detached and impersonal. Julia listened as Vickie recounted what had happened in some detail. “Wait one,” she finally said. “Professor Grady … Ian … had several attacks of something called 'foot drop' while walking from the parking ramp to his fiancee's office. Doctor Robinson explained that this could be an indication that the bullet lodged in his spine has shifted. They're doing X rays to try and see what's going on. She says that this shouldn't take long, but with rush hour traffic and all, she doesn't think that they can get out here until after five. She wants to know whether you want to wait, or go home.” “We'll wait,” Harriet declared with real feeling. “We'll wait.” She looked over at Francine, who nodded in agreement. “I didn't know that Ian is engaged,” she whimpered. “He never said a word!” Harriet was devastated, and it showed. Her dinner date with Ian at uncle Rudy's restaurant had gone so well, the evening pure magic, that she had been fantasizing about a deeper relationship ever since. Francie's objections notwithstanding, she had decided that Ian just might be “the one.” And now he was engaged to somebody else … a doctor or nurse … somebody important. But Harriet was a nobody … a mere high school graduate. Francine wrapped her arms around Harriet, hugging her distraught friend close. Harriet had a good heart, and she deserved a happy ending. Embarrassed, Julia retreated to the opposite side of the room and the relative safety of the filing cabinets. . . . . As soon as she returned to the house, Tippi convened another emergency meeting of the sorority's brain trust. Since classes in mid and late afternoon were few and far between, and the sisters rarely visited the research library, she had no difficulty satisfying the quorum call. Cindy once again banged her gavel to call the meeting to order. She noted with relief that Janis Marsden was a no show. Rumor had it that her latest quarry was a professor in the Economics Department. In her absence, Blofeld would be free to wander at will. “If there is no objection,” Cindy declared, “I yield the floor to Tippi, who will report on where our search for diapers currently stands.” Cindy looked around the room. “Hearing no objection,” she concluded, “the floor is Tippi's.” “Thank you, Madame Chairwoman,” Tippi intoned as she stood up to deliver news both good and bad. “I regret to announce that today's haul in the Great Diaper Caper of 1979 amounted to one measly bag of baby diapers that will be of no use to us unless our targets are about four feet tall, which seems unlikely. We urgently need adult diapers, and to that end Cindy and I will lie in wait tomorrow afternoon at an adults only apartment complex in Bloomington. We shall take possession of one bag of dirty diapers before the delivery truck arrives, and one bag of clean diapers after it departs. This will be our last snatch because, as expected, the diaper service has hired a detective to shadow the truck, and she spotted us and took down the license plate of my car. The number will lead her to my parent's house in New Ulm, so there's no damage done, but I don't want to tempt fate. I yield the floor to Amanda, who has intel on the detective.” Tippi sat down, and Amanda Cunningham stood up in her place. “We are dealing with a private dick,” Amanda began, pausing only to clear her throat. “She lives on Minnehaha Parkway, which is a very trendy neighborhood. Using a reverse directory, my mom found three other vehicles at the same address … a second vehicle registered to Julia, a third to a Herbert Canon-- presumably her husband-- and a fourth registered to a Priscilla Canon … possibly a daughter.” “Holy Batman,” Kimberly screamed as she jumped to her feet. “It's the Batgirl!! Priscilla Canon is Batgirl!!! And Tip and I ran into her only an hour ago!” “What? Where?” Melanie was on her feet, yelling at Kimberly while Cindy banged her gavel on the table in a fruitless effort to restore order. “She was standing guard outside that prof's office … you know, the one PISS has put a bounty on .. the one we're all protecting against the poachers. There were a bunch of them outside his office as well!” “You mean the one in diapers?” Melanie was deaf to the gavel pounding in her ears. “That's the one,” Kimberly shouted; “and Tip went in to see him … she was in there for almost ten minutes … twice as long as anybody else!” “Holy shit!!! Tip, what's he like? Are you going to scalp him?” Joyce Wiggins, one of the Legacies on the Council, was speaking up for the first time. Normally the voice of reason in these gatherings, she was giddy with excitement. “I tried,” Tippi conceded, “in a roundabout way, but he referred me to his fiancee. He said that he was willing if she was. They're both kinky as hell. She spanks him … she keeps his diapers under lock and key … what he calls his makeshift chastity belt ...” A chorus of “holy shits” echoed around the room. “She called him while we were chatting, and it didn't bother him at all that I was sitting there listening to every word! I think he was showing off … and you should see his diapers! He says that the hospital gives them to him in return for his help with troubled vets. They're so thick that … that … his office is on the sixth floor, and I swear that if he jumped out the window and landed on his ass, he'd bounce three stories into the air! He looks like he's got a huge pillow stuck inside his pants! It's incredible, and he's so hot! I was fantasizing the whole time about having him on his knees licking me out one minute and begging me to change his shitty diaper the next. I almost came on the spot!” A second chorus of “holy shits” rolled around the room. “We need an “in” at the hospital,” Tippi concluded, “someone who can find out where housekeeping keeps their diapers, so that we can raid the place. We sneak in, take what we need, sneak out, and all our problems will be solved!” “A candy striper,” Joyce suggested. “And guess what … Janis Marsden is a candy striper!” “Hallelujah,” Cindy screamed. “Our prayers have been answered!” “Would anyone like to hear the rest of my report,” Amanda asked. She was really miffed. “We're sorry, Amanda.” Cindy took a deep breath in an effort to calm down, and bid Amanda to continue. “I let my fingers do the walking, and discovered that Julia Canon is not only a licensed private detective but also a lawyer. She's a partner at Aardvark, Platypus, and Twinkletoes, which is right across the street from that big hospital less than a mile down the road from campus. It sounds like it's the same one that the professor is getting his diapers from.” “Aardvark, Platypus, and Twinkletoes? That's ridiculous,” Kimberly sneered. “Which one is she, anyway?” “By the looks of the photo in their ad in the Yellow Pages, she's Twinkletoes.” Melanie rushed out to the telephone stand in the front hallway, and returned a minute later with the phone book in hand. Hastily turning the pages, she found the photo, and handed the book to Tippi. “Is that her,” Melanie asked. “That's her,” Tippi agreed. “Tomorrow? I think we should tail her everywhere she goes. Talk about fun!” “Uh, Mel … um … in case you've forgotten, we all have classes in the morning. You know … classes? That thing that we're all supposed to have come here to attend?” “Oh, yeah. You're right, Tip; sorry. I just kinda forgot.” “So, are we all in agreement?” Cindy looked around the room. “Tomorrow, Tip and I abscond with the diapers down in Bloomington, and we put Janis to work scouting out the lay of the land at the hospital. Now, has anyone found a braniac ready, willing and eager for a blow job?” “Walter Beamis,” Kimberly proudly announced. “He's majoring in Civil Engineering, and he's got a four oh GPA. Tops the Dean's list. He looks like a toad, so he's gotta be desperate. I'm going in for the kill tomorrow!” “And they're off and running,” Melanie intoned in her best sportscaster's voice. “Rounding the first turn, the toad is out front by half a length ...” “But the diapered professor is charging fast on the outside,” Tippi added, “and the jockey has her whip in hand. She's really laying it on … riding him hard ...” The whole room erupted in laughter. . . . . The phone rang, and Francine dashed to answer it. “It's Doctor Robinon,” she mouthed. Francie listened for a moment, thanked Vickie for the call, and hung up. “They're on their way. Traffic permitting, they should be here in half an hour or so.” Julia dug out another file, and got back to work. . . . . It was well after five when Ian finally arrived at Lullaby's office. He introduced Vickie and Priscilla to Harriet and Francine, and in turn Priscilla introduced her mother to her companions. Harriet put on her game face, and congratulated Ian on his upcoming marriage. She mistakenly assumed, however, that Vickie was the bride to be-- an honest mistake given the sexual tension that was flowing so visibly between them. Vickie gently corrected the misunderstanding, but only added to Harriet's confusion when she went on to describe the highly unusual living arrangements that would commence that very weekend, and continue after Ian's marriage to Sarah. On the spur of the moment, and knowing that Harriet had been reared in a very traditional family, Ian invited her and Francie to attend the Saturday night gathering of the Circle that was now just a few days away.. He liked Harriet, and he definitely did not want to leave her with the impression that he had fallen in with a secret society of devil worshipers, or something worse yet. He hoped that meeting Sarah, Rita and the others would put them both at ease. Harry and Francie accepted the invitation on the spot. Standing apart from the others, Julia looked very much like the cat that had swallowed the canary. Priscilla and Ian had not shown up empty handed. Quite the contrary. Her daughter had handed over a miniaturized electronic tracking device that was state of the art, probably military grade. It was, Priscilla assured her, just one of a bunch of hightech gizmos that Ian kept stashed in one of his desk drawers. Harriet assured her that it would be sewn into one of the diapers that would be delivered to Ian's doorstop the following afternoon. Julia surreptitiously studied the young professor. She had a deep working knowledge of surveillance technology, and there was no doubt in her mind that his little toy had not been purchased at the Radio Shacks of this world. She decided to have her husband run Ian through the national registry, and take a much closer look at his background. 3 Link to comment
littlebopeeper Posted December 12, 2023 Share Posted December 12, 2023 Hmm. So sorority sisters working as candy stripers have been gossiping about Ian all over campus? No wonder his scalp is such a valuable prize! And what will happen to Janis Marsden if she gets caught stealing diapers from the hospital? You haven't said, but I'm guessing that she is the daughter of Mrs. Marsden, the corporate recruiter in the main story, and that Mommy will decide that her daughter's punishment should fit the crime. 1 Link to comment
Babypants Posted December 16, 2023 Author Share Posted December 16, 2023 On 12/12/2023 at 5:14 PM, littlebopeeper said: And what will happen to Janis Marsden if she gets caught stealing diapers from the hospital? You haven't said, but I'm guessing that she is the daughter of Mrs. Marsden, the corporate recruiter in the main story, Correct. On 12/12/2023 at 5:14 PM, littlebopeeper said: So sorority sisters working as candy stripers have been gossiping about Ian all over campus? Good catch. Rita, Sarah and Vickie have respected Ian's right to privacy, but forty odd years ago candy stripers were a much more important component of hospital staffs than they are today. Being more hands on meant that they had more detailed knowledge of the patients to whom they delivered care. 1 Link to comment
CCApril Posted January 9 Share Posted January 9 I'm commenting here to move this to the front to make it easier to catch up. I finally have some free time. This aint the kind of story you can just read at lunch time. Too much going on. You don't like it take it up with Spats! 1 Link to comment
Babypants Posted January 14 Author Share Posted January 14 On 1/8/2024 at 11:28 PM, CCApril said: This aint the kind of story you can just read at lunch time. Too much going on. You don't like it take it up with Spats! Thanks! Spats isn't known for his patience, but readers will have to be. Seven more scenes will unfold in Homage before we catch up with poor Julia, freezing her you know what off on another hated stakeout, this time in a high school parking lot. Link to comment
Babypants Posted March 7 Author Share Posted March 7 TO CATCH A DIAPER THIEF (OR, AS THE LATE PAUL HARVEY WOULD SAY, "THE REST OF THE STORY" “What d'ya think, Tip?” Cindy had turned off the main road onto the residential street, which was lined with single family residences on their right, and a run of four multi-story apartment buildings on their left. There were still more apartments and detached garages inside the sprawling complex, everything centered on a large clubhouse with adjoining pool and tennis courts. The clubhouse, they knew from reading the listing in the Yellow Pages, even featured an indoor racket ball court. “This close to the airport? Looks like a stew zoo to me.” “I meant the street. There's not a single car parked on this entire block.” Cindy was driving slowly, looking up the driveways leading into the parking lots behind the buildings. If they spotted the beater that they had dubbed “the cannon mobile,” it was mission aborted. “Pull into the next driveway, and let me out. I'll walk back, like I'm coming from the clubhouse or something. I'll scout out the premises, locate the diapers, and see if there's anybody hanging around. At this hour of the day, everyone should be at work, so if I run into anyone, we are outta here. I want you to turn around at the end of the block and park, but leave the engine running. It'll look like you're waiting for someone. When you see me come out, pull up. If the coast is clear, we'll make the switch.” “Sounds like a plan. Let's do it!” . . . . Julia hated stakeouts, especially in the wintertime. You froze your butt off, and you emptied an entire thermos of black coffee trying to stay warm and keep awake. Then your bladder started to make its presence felt, reminding you that it was time to make a toilet run. The longer you ignored it, the more you squirmed, and unlike the guys, a lady couldn't exactly stand up in the middle of a high school parking lot and take a leak. Julia was miserable. Maybe, she thought, I'm getting too old for this. Maybe I should be wearing a diaper and a nice, cozy pair of baby pants like the professor. Then I could just piss myself and be done with it. Or maybe I need to take up a new line of work … Julia hated stakeouts. . . . . Tippi walked up the sidewalk with her head down and her gloved hands deep inside the pockets of her heavy winter coat. A stylish woolen cap made her even more anonymous; to anyone watching, she would appear to be a resident returning to her apartment from the rental office or clubhouse. Once inside the four story building, she discovered that there was no elevator waiting to send her aloft. Grimacing, she began to trudge up the stairs, her plan being to start on the top floor and work her way down. Her mood brightened when she exited the stairwell on the second floor. At the end of the corridor, she could see the bag of used diapers propped against an apartment door. Strolling casually, she went to the end of the corridor and peered down to the ground floor. She could see the small lobby and the door leading out to the parking lot. The lobby was empty, so she retreated and picked up the bag, trying to gauge its weight. Tippi nodded to herself and smiled. The bag of old rags that were sitting in the trunk of Cindy's car was identical to the bag outside the door, and about the same weight. Making the switch would be easier than she thought. She proceeded down the stairs and opened the door just enough to peek outside. Tippi was looking not only for the old beater that had stalked them yesterday, but for anything that seemed out of place. Seeing nothing suspicious in the lot, she trudged down the corridor and left the building. Less than five minutes later, she was back up on the second floor, scoring what she guessed would be some two to three dozen very, very smelly adult diapers. Whoever lived in that apartment, she surmised, was paying rent for a toilet that wasn't being used. Tossing the soiled diapers into the trunk, Tippi climbed into the passenger seat and turned the heater on full blast. It was a miserable day, but the first part of the Great Diaper Heist of 1979 had gone off without a hitch. Now, it was just a matter of waiting for Lullaby's truck to show up. They would find an empty slot in the parking lot of the adjoining building, and settle in to await its arrival. With the radio on and thermoses of hot chocolate and coffee to keep them warm, it was time to kick back and relax. . . . . Wheeling her cart through the vast warehouse, Janis Marsden was in awe. It was one thing to realize that the hospital was running like a finely tuned watch, and another to pull back the curtain and actually look behind the scenes. Trolling the aisles, gawking at bins filled with everything from q-tips to bed frames, she now understood why candy stripers never returned empty handed when their supervisors sent them to collect supplies from a storeroom. From the basement to the top floor, the complex operation to which she devoted six hours of her life a week was a well oiled machine. At lunch in the cafeteria, she had initially refused to go along with Tippi's plan to locate the source of Professor Grady's diapers, and casually help herself to a handful or two. Janis liked her job, and was seriously considering becoming a business major so that she could get a foot in the door of hospital administration. She didn't want to risk being excommunicated before she even got started, but as Tippi pointed out, sororities were notorious for their rituals, and if caught she could always excuse her behavior as just another initiation treasure hunt. No big deal. In retrospect, Janis was glad that she had finally caved to Tippi's pleas. Her supervisor had been only to happy to send her to the basement, shopping list in hand, so that the young candy striper could learn at first hand how the hospital really ran. One of the items on her shopping list? Adult diapers. Armed with a detailed floor plan furnished by a friendly young man at the check-in counter, she had had no trouble finding the mother lode. The bin was huge, the diapers neatly folded and stacked by unseen hands, just sitting there waiting for her to wander by. Row after row of adult diapers called out to her, each stack at least a few dozen high. She was staring at hundreds of the enormously thick diapers that Tippi had described … hundreds of them! Janis Marsden was in diaper heaven. She took what she needed to fill the order, then helped herself to an additional dozen. Her plan was to stash them in her locker, and at the end of her shift make two trips out to her car. Her backpack was large enough to hold two, and she would wear a third under her dress. Four trips at the end of two successive shifts would see her prizes safely back to the house. Before she returned to the ward with a cart piled high with fresh linens, Janis ventured off to raid one more bin-- the one containing the vinyl pants that patients in some wards wore over their diapers. She stuffed several of the transparent baby pants into the pockets of her pinafore, taking care to get a variety of sizes. Curious by nature, Janis decided to wear one of the baby pants over her diaper when she headed out to the car for the second time. The thick cloth made it impossible for her to walk normally, her stride now reduced to a toddler like waddle. Would anybody notice? Back at the house, when she took off her coat, would anyone comment on the bulge in her pants? A shiver ran down Janis's spine when she climbed into the car and started the engine. She gave it a minute to warm up, and used the time to wiggle around in the seat, trying to get the diaper to hug her body more comfortably. The child of hard working, conservative parents, Janis was quiet and obedient by nature. She had never done anything this daring in her whole life, and she was enjoying every moment of her criminal escapade. . . . . And more or less right on time,” Cindy crowed as she sat up straight in her seat, “here comes de truck, here comes de truck!” The two girls watched the Lullaby delivery van pull into the parking lot, and come to a stop opposite the entrance. The driver got out, and walked around to open the sliding door on the right side of the vehicle; a few moments later, he disappeared into the building with a lone bag bulging with nice, clean adult diapers. “Now's the moment of truth,” Tippi muttered more or less to herself; “will he spot the switch, or not?” She calculated that it should take him not more than ninety seconds to return to the van. Silently, she began to count backwards. She had just counted down to twenty when the door opened and the driver reemerged-- carrying the stash of oily rags that the girls had loaded into one of the identical bags that they had stolen on Monday morning. Tippi had added a few tokens harvested from Blofeld's litter box to give the rags a more authentic odor. “Looks like we passed the smell test,” Cindy laughed. The driver had tossed his noxious cargo into the back of the truck before driving off, exiting the lot onto the same side street that they were using for their heist. “Now we wait,” Tippi announced, crossing her arms to emphasize the point. “We'll give the old lady and her beater ten minutes to make an appearance. If she doesn't show, we'll make our move … same as before.” “Works for me,” Cindy agreed. “If Janis comes through with some of those super thick diapers that your professor wears, come the morning we'll be ready for business!” “I want to lay my hands on one of those locking diaper covers the prof wears,” Tippi replied. “Maybe Janis can track some down tomorrow. Imagine … keeping a guy in diapers 24/7, taking away his toilet privileges, giving him no choice but to pee and poop himself because his diapers are locked inside a pair of escape proof pants. You'd have a slave to do your bidding for as long as you wanted!” . . . . CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … At first, Julia was fascinated by the tracking device, and the precision with which one could follow its movement. When it was three miles away, it was barely audible, a single ... CH............................E..................................EP... hard to pick up over the sound of passing cars. As the diaper delivery van drew closer, however, the signal became stronger and more focused, and when it turned into the parking lot immediately across the road, it sounded much like the sirens that delivered a continuous blast all over the Twin Cities at one in the afternoon on the first Wednesday of the month. CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … Even the short distance that the driver had to traverse as he carried the bundle of fresh diapers from the truck to the building's second floor was enough to alter the signal … CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … And so it went, second by second, minute by minute, the mindless noise assaulting her brain, over and over and over again. No end to it. Julia dug into the glove box, desperate to find aspirin … a forgotten flask … anything to ward off the assault. She found nothing. Julia hated stakeouts. . . . . “Time's up,” Tippi declared; “fire her up.” Cindy obligingly turned over the ignition, and backed up, and drove slowly up the road. She exited the lot onto the side street the same way that she had entered, and drove slowly up the road. As soon as she parked alongside the building, Tippi was out the door, dashing off to collect the prized diapers from their second floor perch. She was back in less than five minutes. With the diapers safely hidden away in the trunk, Cindy turned onto the main thoroughfare and headed north towards the interstate-- towards the interstate, and home. The Great Diaper Heist of 1979, brilliantly planned and masterfully executed, was drawing to a close. . . . . CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … CHE …. EEP, CHE …. EEP, CHE … EEP … CHE …. EEP, CHE …. EEP, CHE … EEP … Julia didn't realize that she had been nodding off until the signal pattern changed. They've taken the bait! Startled into full wakefulness, she mentally reviewed what the professor had taught her about his little toy. A shorter, stronger return meant that the target was approaching. A longer, weaker return meant that it was moving away. The signal was definitely fading! Can't be south or east … the beep would have become stronger, not weaker, as the diapers went past me … Julia pulled out of the parking lot, and headed north on the broad boulevard toward the beltway, some three miles distant. There was another interstate less than a mile to her west, but she had decided to ignore it. The two highways crossed at one of the busiest interchanges in the state, so the odds were overwhelming that thieves bound for Minneapolis to the north or one of the wealthy suburbs to the west would take one route or the other. If she could catch up with them before they reached the interchange … CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … Closer! Triumphantly pounding the steering wheel with her fist, and gambling that she could speed in the light, late afternoon traffic without risk of being pulled over, Julia worked to close the distance between herself and a group of vehicles a couple of hundred yards ahead. Catching the few traffic lights on the green helped, and when she finally eased to a stop, it was to make the left turn onto the ramp that would drop her down to join the rush hour traffic heading west on the beltway. There were three cars ahead of her … CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … It's one of these three vehicles … the thieves are in one of these three vehicles!!! . . . . “So, who gets stuck washing the dirty diapers that are stinking up my trunk?” Sitting at the light, Cindy was wrinkling her nose in disgust. “I'll do the honors,” Tippi shrugged. She sniffed her hands, and then suddenly thrust them under Cindy's nose. “Oh, yuck,” Cindy screeched; “you smell like a diaper pail! What'd you do, open the bag and rummage around in there just for the thrill of it?” “Light's green,” Tippi answered nonchalantly. “I don't mind changing a dirty diaper; I just don't want to wear one!” Traffic on the beltway was moving, but slowly. “Shitty traffic,” Cindy complained. “It'll thin out once we get on the interstate … should be clear sailing all the way back to the house.” “Are you really going to wash these shitty diapers yourself?” “Sure. I did a lot of diaper duty when I was younger. But you know who's diapers I really want to change? The professor's. The guy's hot, and so, so submissive. I'd give anything to be his girlfriend!” Tippi held her fingers up to her nose, and inhaled deeply. “I'd keep him locked up just the way he is now, but every time I changed him? I'd tease him … keep him guessing whether this would be the day he got lucky … make him beg for it. Like I said earlier, don't think about the poop and the smell, Cindy; think about the payoff! Think about having a guy's cock under lock and key … think about the power that comes with owning his cock! Imagine him on his knees in front of you, begging for the privilege of pleasuring you, all in the hope that in a moment of weakness you'll unlock him and let him cum! You'd be a goddess!” “Geez, Tip … you are one seriously screwed up little girl! But I love it! Why stop at scalping the profs? If we lock their dicks up, none of the other houses will be able to use them to rack up points!” Making the turn to head north toward the city, Cindy smiled broadly. Tip was right: the traffic had thinned dramatically. Smooth sailing, she thought; smooth sailing all the way home! . . . . Julia was impatiently drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the light to change, when her car phone rang. She groped for the handset, her eyes never looking away from the signal. “Hey, Mom! Just calling to see how the stakeout is coming. You staying awake?” Julia ruefully shook her head. Car phones were convenient, but why did someone always have to call when she was in the middle of a pursuit? Couldn't they at least wait until she was entertaining her husband in the back seat at a drive-in? Technology will be the death of us all ... “Northbound on Nicollet, approaching the interstate,” she said in her most businesslike voice. “They took the bait, Pris; I'm fourth car in line at a red light, and the tracking device is in one of the three cars ahead of me. Have a listen.” Eyes still glued to the red light, wondering if the damned thing was ever going to change, Julia waved the handset at the receiver. CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … “Julia, you're too close! Way too close! Back off a quarter of a mile before they spot you in their mirrors!” Julia was so surprised that she almost dropped the phone. “Ian? What are you ...?” A thousand thoughts cascaded through Julia's brain, and none of them were happy thoughts. Where the hell are you, and what the hell are the two of you up to? I swear to God, if you are playing Happy Couple with my daughter … Still staring at the red light while simultaneously strangling the telephone, Julia somehow managed to get her emotions reasonably under control. “Never mind ... It's a left turn, and I'll lose them on the interstate if I miss the light!” There was a hint of panic in her voice, and she prayed that Pris and Ian would attribute it to her fear of missing the lousy red light. And to make matters worse, she really, really did need to pee. Does anybody in one of those car chase scenes ever need a toilet break? How the hell did Steve McQueen manage to stay dry bouncing around San Francisco that way? Oh, hell, he was probably wearing a diaper … “No, you won't. If they're heading for the junction and you take the wrong highway, the signal will change dramatically. Remember, with both vehicles on the move, it is far more sensitive than it was with you stationary in that parking lot.” And just where did you field test this doohickey? Behind the Iron Curtain? “But the rate of separation … I'll lose the signal in a matter of seconds ...” Priscilla … baby … what have you got yourself into? “Doesn't matter. Reverse course at the first off ramp, and give it the gas. You'll reacquire it when you close in. Worst comes to worst, you set up a search pattern using city streets. Trust me about this, Julia … it's not my first rodeo.” Oh, trust me, that's obvious! Now, where, oh where, did that 'aw shucks' shtick of yours get to? Riddle me that, Batman! “Hold on! Light's changed … got to go!!” Julia dropped the phone, willing the light to stay green as the vehicles ahead of her inched their way through the slush to start down the westbound ramp. As it turned out, hers was the last car to make the turn, and she got a good look at the drivers in the three vehicles ahead of her. You have got to be kidding me ... Holding onto the steering wheel with one hand, her foot dancing back and forth between the accelerator and brake pedals, trying to keep her eyes on the road … Julia felt around for the phone. “Pris … Honey, are you still there?” “Still here, Mom. Just giving my Secret Agent Man a hug and a kiss for a job well done.” “Young lady, I will talk with you about Professor Grady later!” Lord, give me strength! Would someone care to explain how, in a span of less than seventy two hours, my hitherto calm, sensible daughter has gone and fallen madly in love with a crippled vet who's spent years wandering the world doing God only knows what for his country ... “Right now, I need you to call your father. It's unbelievable. I ran into two girls yesterday when traipsing around town in the wake of the Lullaby van. Well, guess what! They're driving a different car, but it's them! They're the diaper thieves! Call Dad, and tell him that I need a local address for the girl he ran through the DMV yesterday-- Tippi Anne Bjornsen of New Ulm!” And what do they call your boyfriend at headquarters … Double Oh Diaper Man, Licensed to Kill? Who should I call first … Rod Serling, or Mike Wallace? CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … “No need to bother Dad.” CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … Julia knew that her daughter was laughing her head off, and she could have sworn that she could hear Ian doing a play by play in the background. “Ian … um … Professor Grady … is pretty sure that he knows the young lady in question. She's a student, Mom-- and a sorority girl! So, congratulations! You've cracked the case, and now you get to inform Spats Belmondo that he's the victim of a typical sorority stunt pulled off by a bunch of enterprising juvenile delinquents!” Oh, lucky me … CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … “Julia, head for sorority row; we'll meet you there.” Well, at least he hasn't forgotten how to issue orders. Nice to meet you, Major … CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … “Pris can read them their rights, maybe place them under arrest. I'm thinking that a night in the slammer would probably do this crew some good!” “Book 'em, Danno!” It was a great line, but unfortunately Ian had already hung up the phone. Julia increasingly had to concentrate on her driving. Heading north on the interstate, there was now only one car separating her from the target vehicle. If it changed lanes, she would be fully visible, and the Bjornsen girl would no doubt recognize her beater if she bothered to look in the mirror. Julia slowed down, willing another car to slide in front of her. CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … When the phone rang again, it was with a sense of genuine resignation that Julia picked up. She had a pretty good idea who was calling, and what she was going to say. “Mom, I just got off the phone with Chief Mischof. I've got an address for you. Ready?” “Fire away.” Priscilla did so, and promised to meet her there, but she went on casually to add that first she had to take Ian upstairs and change his diaper, which was certainly wet and possibly poopy. Remembering her conversation in Rita's office just a few hours earlier, Julia was sorely tempted to ask her daughter if she would need a few extra minutes to feed him his ba bas as well, but she decided that this was a conversation best not conducted while driving fifty five miles an hour on the interstate. But it is a conversation we are going to have, daughter of mine; oh yes, we are! “Aargh,” Julia screamed as she repeatedly pounded the steering wheel in frustration. Is she kinky? Is she kinky, and we simply missed it? CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP … And where is this relationship headed? CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP … CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP … CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP … Where...? CH.....E.....EP ... 4 Link to comment
littlebopeeper Posted March 9 Share Posted March 9 On 11/29/2023 at 3:57 PM, Bluebird67 said: Tippi is certainly an interesting piece of work! Kind of the antithesis of Ian: selfish, scheming and sadistic. I look forward to Ian or Julia getting her measure. Amen! This girl has some serious issues. And what's wrong with Julia? Who drives around in an old beater in the dead of winter in the snow belt without a flask, a couple of candy bars, and some blankets? Link to comment
Babypants Posted March 10 Author Share Posted March 10 On 11/29/2023 at 3:57 PM, Bluebird67 said: Tippi is certainly an interesting piece of work! Kind of the antithesis of Ian: selfish, scheming and sadistic. I look forward to Ian or Julia getting her measure. At the end of scene 3, there was a very good discussion of what should happen to Tippi after her presumed arrest. Some of the ideas kicked around there will be pivotal in scene 9. 1 Link to comment
Babypants Posted March 13 Author Share Posted March 13 BOOK 'EM, DANNO “Seems a bit late in the year for the sororities to be running pigs up the flagpole,” Ian observed. “Too close to finals.” “It is out of character,” Priscilla agreed. They were in her squad car, making the short drive across the river to Fraternity Row. “But what's really odd is that Zeta Pi Alpha, or ZAP as it is known to all and sundry, doesn't have a reputation for partying hard. Academically, it's a bottom feeder, but I've never been summoned to deal with anything more serious than a drunk and disorderly. It just doesn't make any sense.” “And then there's Spats Belmondo ...” “Yeah,” Priscilla nodded. “Then there's Spats. When it comes to theft, especially theft this well organized and hurtful, the Chief won't look the other way, but the usual slap on the wrist won't be enough. If these girls aren't punished to his satisfaction, Spats will find a way to even the score.” “La vendetta è un piatto che va servito freddo,” Ian shrugged. “Revenge is a dish best served cold. Spats won't be in a hurry, not with his honor at stake, and he could strike from a direction no one expects.” “That the way Chief Mischof will see it.” “What's the usual drill in a case like this?” “The DA doesn't like to waste his time, so normally we offer them a plea deal. A hundred hours of community service, a fine, and two or three years of probation. In return, the record is expunged.” “Sensible, but in this case, not enough to feed the bulldog. I'd start by placing them under arrest, cuffing them, and tossing them in the slammer for the night. Schedule an arraignment in the morning, with an eye to forcing them to lawyer up if they don't fully cooperate. Any criminal attorney will run the bill up into the thousands … and while we're talking hard ball, be sure and ask for a stiff bond. Go for something high enough that the parents will have to put up collateral to get them out. Make it hurt.” “You think that will be enough to satisfy Spats?” “No, but it will get his attention. Leave the rest to me.” “WHAT?” Priscilla was so shocked that she almost slammed on the brakes. “No way, Ian … NO WAY. You are not going to … what's that cute phrase that you secret agents use … 'terminate with extreme prejudice'? You are not going to 'whack' Spats Belmondo, to use the term that he would choose. And while we're at it, I want you to promise me that you will stop running around the globe killing people!” “Honey, don't overreact!” Ian patted Priscilla lightly on the arm. “Honestly, it's been years since I last killed anyone … years!” But only for lack of targets … if I ever find out who killed my wife, I am going to paint the streets red with their blood … “Let's start with the community service,” he continued. “Hospitals all need candy stripers, and Tippi and her friends will have dishpan hands after they've cleaned and polished a few thousand bedpans. And the girls are all going to become customers of the diaper service, 24/7, for the balance of their time in school. That way, Spats gets to humiliate them, and turn a profit at the same time. And while we're at it, maybe my favorite hospital will give us a group discount if we offer to buy locking diaper covers for the whole crew. That should be an easy sell after I persuade Spats to donate generously to some hospital endowment fund or other.” “And all you have to do to make this happen is what? Snap your fingers? Make a few phone calls?” Priscilla honestly couldn't tell whether Ian was pulling her leg or being serious. Pretty much. The real challenge is figuring out how to change all those dirty diapers. Who's going to do the honors? The logistics are daunting.” “And this conversation is beyond bizarre! Ian, I can just hear my parents now: 'Pris, why couldn't you fall in love with somebody normal? You know, a polite ax-murderer, or a charming serial killer? Why did it have to be Secret Agent Man'?” “Officer Canon, are we truly in love?” “We are,” Priscilla said firmly. “Well, just to keep this in perspective, you're the third woman with whom I've fallen in love over the past week, and the fourth this month. It's a bad habit, I know, but what's a guy to do?” “Don't you worry about it, Dear.” Now it was Priscilla's turn to pat Ian gently on the arm. “I'm going to call a meeting. Between the four of us, somebody's bound to come up with a sure fire way to make you keep it in your pants!” . . . . CH.....E.....EP … CH.....E.....EP … Now that she had an address and the thrill of the hunt was gone, Julia felt curiously deflated. The diaper heist was just another stupid sorority prank, although there was a sadistic edge to it that left a bad taste in her mouth. Nearing downtown, she reached out to switch the nerve wracking tracking device off, but then she pulled her hand back. Perversely, she decided to leave it alone until she pulled up behind Bjornsen at the sorority house. What she really wanted to do was nail the little bitch to a chair, and let her listen to the maddening, metallic chirping for the next twenty four hours straight. Maybe longer … Then wrap her in tin foil, and drop her on Spats Belmondo's front porch. No charge for the service, Spats. Consider this a freebie … What really sucked was that she would not even have the pleasure of arresting the little psychopath. Instead, she would just have to stand there, thinking very dark thoughts, while her daughter read Bjornsen and her lunatic friends their Miranda rights. Julia well understood her husband's longing for the good, old days when a cop could use his nightstick to persuade a miscreant to confess his sins. What Bjornsen really needed to see the error of her ways was for someone to shove a nightstick up her ass and pound it home with a sledgehammer. Julia was eager to volunteer. Winding through downtown, the traffic now much heavier, Julia switched lanes to catch up with her quarry. At the Mississippi, she pulled in directly behind the girls, knowing that she would be invisible in the darkness that had descended over the city during the chase. When they exited and made the turn for Fraternity Row, she was content to follow at a sedate pace. Her daughter would be lurking somewhere in the neighborhood, ready to pounce once the thieves returned home. My daughter and God only knows how many other cops of the campus variety. This will probably end up being a real frolic. And what do I say to Grady, besides 'thank you for your help'? What a mess! . . . . “Home, sweet home,” Tippi sighed. “Be it ever so humble,” Cindy laughed as she turned into the driveway. With winter parking restrictions in effect on city streets, finding a slot in the limited space at the back of the sorority house was always a challenge. “WHAT THE FUCK,” she screeched as she hit the brakes so hard that only her seatbelt spared her a close encounter of the first kind with the steering wheel. There was a man standing in the middle of the driveway, with his back turned to them. He appeared to be admiring the old mansion's ornate, early twentieth century architecture. “HEY,” Cindy screamed; “what the hell ...” Ian turned around with an amiable grin on his face. He strolled casually over to Cindy's side of the car, signaling for her to roll down the window. “Professor Grady?” Tippi's eyes had swollen to roughly the size of dinner plates. “Good evening, Miss Bjornsen.” Ian's tone was as amiable as his grin. “Glad to see you made it home in one piece. Would you care to introduce me to your friend?” “Cindy … I'm … uh … Cindy Carlson.” Cindy was stuttering badly. “Nice to meet you, Cindy … and thank you for not running me down. You've got good reflexes.” “What … what are you doing here?” Cindy was still badly shaken. “Ah, reinforcements have arrived.” Ignoring the question, Ian was looking down the street. Right on cue, Priscilla was arriving with siren howling and lights flashing. She pulled into the driveway, effectively preventing Cindy from trying to escape in a moment of panic. Priscilla climbed out of her squad car, and in the distance she could hear other blue and whites fast approaching. Chief Mischof had been true to his word. Fighting hard to keep from doubling over with laughter, Priscilla somehow managed to put on her game face as she approached Cindy's side of the car. Nudging Ian to step aside, she looked down into the vehicle. “Are either of you armed,” she asked in her best cop voice. “Wh … at,” Cindy squeaked. “Of … of course not!” “Is there a weapon in the vehicle?” “No,” Tippi hissed; “we're clean.” Priscilla and Ian exchanged brief looks. Both of them were thinking the same thing: this was not the first time that Tippi Bjornsen had been confronted by a cop. “Officer, what is this about?” Judging Cindy to be useless, Tippi had opted to take over their side of the conversation. Ian noted that Julia had pulled up to the curb, and even from a distance he could hear the receiver merrily chirping away. He laughed as he slowly turned around. Several girls had come out of the house, and were now watching the proceedings from the veranda. Heads were peeking out the front door of the properties on both sides, and curiosity seekers were venturing out at a number of houses across the street. Two more squad cars arrived, their lights and sirens adding to the chaos unfolding in the driveway of the Zeta Alpha Pi sorority house. Ian wondered how long it would take for the vans to arrive from the local TV station newsrooms, and whether they would show up before or after Suzie Marshall decided to put in an appearance. “We have a report that this vehicle is being used to transport stolen property,” Priscilla grimly announced. When her fellow officers were in place, she ordered Cindy to exit the vehicle first, and then Tippi. “Stolen property? That's absurd,” Tippi protested. “What is this? Some kind of elaborate joke?” Finally recognizing Priscilla, and seeing Ian hovering in the background, Tippi was adding it all together-- and coming up with the wrong answer. CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP Device in hand, Julia had walked up to the trunk of Cindy's car. The receiver was going crazy, sounding for all the world like a panicked hatchling trying to find its way back into the nest. CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP “Don't think so,” Ian said as he reached down to flick a small switch and silence the transmission. “This receiver is slaved to a miniature homing device sewn into one of the diapers that you liberated from my doorstep, Miss Bjornsen. With your help, they appear to have found a home in the trunk of Miss Carlson's vehicle.” “Tippi, is what this young man's saying true,” a middle aged woman angrily asked. She had come storming out of the house, and Ian presumed that she was the house mother. ''Did you steal his diapers?” Her high-pitched, incredulous voice easily carried to the surrounding houses. “I'd like to hear the answer to that question as well.” Chief Walter Mischof had now arrived on scene, his squad car artfully parked to block an entire lane. If nothing else, the ensuing traffic jam would insure the prompt arrival of local news crews. He reckoned that at least one of the networks would lead off at ten with so bizarre a story. If Dean Turgeson was watching the right channel, he would probably choke on his nightcap. “The jig's up, Cindy.” With no way out, Tippi calculated that a show of contrition would minimize the consequences. “You're right, Missus Miller; we stole Professor Grady's diapers. It was just a prank … a stupid, sorority prank.” “PROFESSOR GRADY? YOU STOLE DIAPERS FROM A MEMBER OF THE FACULTY?” The sorority mom was so angry that Ian swore he could see steam escaping through her hair. “CINDY CARLSON, YOU OPEN THE TRUNK OF THAT CAR RIGHT NOW!” “Yes, Ma'am.” Cindy hastened to obey. Everyone gathered around, but when the lid went up, everyone also stepped back. “My God,” Chief Mischof yelped, “I remember that smell, but I don't remember it being this bad! Professor, what have you been eating?” Priscilla burst out laughing, and for his own part Ian was sorely tempted to tell the Chief the truth. However, prudence being the better part of valor, he decided to take refuge in a bad burrito. “TIPPI BJORNSEN,” Missus Miller roared, “YOU WILL TAKE THESE DIAPERS DOWN TO THE BASEMENT. YOU WILL RINSE THE POOP OFF, AND THEN YOU WILL WASH THEM, DRY THEM, FOLD THEM NEATLY, AND RETURN THEM TO THE PROFESSOR WITH YOUR MOST SINCERE APOLOGY! DO YOU HEAR ME?” Priscilla leaned in to whisper in Ian's ear. “Hell hath no fury like a sorority house mom inconvenienced by one of her charges. Bernice is going to have an ugly meeting with Dean Turgeson in the morning, and if the chapter loses its certificate, she'll be out of a job.” “Wait one,” Ian called out. “Chief Mischof, you should know that this is not an isolated incident. These girls have been systematically stealing diapers from customers of Lullaby Diaper Service for several days now. I suspect that others in this house are also involved. I hope that Missus Miller will allow you to search the premises and recover the stolen property without a warrant, but for my own part I'm going to file a criminal complaint, and I should expect the owner of the diaper service to do so as well. He has suffered significant financial loss, and emotionally his employees have been put through the wringer. It would not surprise me if a civil suit follows in due course. So, we should ask Missus Canon here whether washing these dirty diapers would be tampering with evidence, and make it inadmissible in court. Julia is the Twinkletoes of Aardvark, Platypus, and Twinkletoes: Attorneys at Law.” Ian sidled up to Julia, and eased the receiver out of her hand. The last thing that he wanted was for the little gizmo to be taken into evidence by the police. “Professor Grady is correct, Chief. To be admissible in court, the evidence must be in the same condition in which it was received into evidence.” “You want me to store these shitty diapers in our evidence locker?” Walt Mischof could hardly believe what he was hearing. “You want an Assistant DA to haul them into court, and wave them under a judge's nose?” “Sorry,” Julia shrugged. “The rules of evidence ...” “Yeah, yeah, I know the rules of evidence. Geez ...” “Book 'em, Danno,” one of the frat boys yelled out from the sidewalk, where a sizable crowd had quickly gathered to entertain themselves at the sorority's expense. The cry was taken up and instantly turned into a chant … BOOK 'EM, DANNO! BOOK 'EM, DANNO! Slipping the receiver into his pocket, Ian inadvertently activated it … CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP BOOK 'EM, DANNO! CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP It was at about this moment that the first on site reporter arrived at the scene with his faithful cameraman. With traffic now at a standstill, the enterprising driver had made use of the sidewalk, bouncing off it to bring his vehicle to a halt directly behind Julia's rusted out beater. Walt Mischof smiled benevolently. Finally! He finally had a chance to stick it to Fraternity Row! And he was going to stick it good!. . . . . “And now, for the lighter side of the news. Earlier this evening, there was quite a fracas over on Fraternity Row, and our own Emmett Bailey was there to report on the chaos. What's happening, Emmett?” “Lyle, earlier this evening campus police descended upon Fraternity Row, and specifically upon one of the sorority houses, Zeta Alpha Pi. It's being alleged that an organized gang of diaper thieves has been terrorizing the city, and that the police caught two of the thieves red-handed. We spoke with Chief Walter Mischof of the campus police, who showed us the evidence taken from the trunk of a car belonging to one of the sorority members. We were looking at two bags of adult diapers delivered weekly to a member of the faculty, a highly decorated veteran rendered incontinent when he was severely wounded on his last battlefield. We did not, however, get too close, because one bag was, how shall I put it? More than a little ripe. We spoke with the Chief about where this bizarre case goes from here." “Emmett, what can I tell you? With the cooperation of the property manager, who is known informally as the house mom, we were able to examine all of the public areas in the residence, as well as the rooms occupied by the more than fifty students, all of whom agreed to a search rather than forcing us to get a warrant. In total, we recovered over a thousand diapers stolen off the porches of customers of Lullaby Diaper Service. We have taken two of the ringleaders into custody; they have been charged, and will be arraigned in municipal court in the morning. At present, we are interviewing each sorority member individually, with a focus on discovering just how widespread this conspiracy really is, and whether there is more to it than just the usual nonsense that we have to deal with up and down this block, term after term, year after year.” “Emmett, a quick check revealed that Lullaby Diaper Service is owned by Vincent Belmondo, more commonly known as Spats Belmondo. We sent a second crew to interview Mister Belmondo at his residential estate on Lake Minnetonka, but when our own Lisa Jenkins asked him how a man of his colorful reputation could be running a diaper service, he told her in rather colorful terms to go jump in the lake. When Lisa pointed out that the lake is frozen at this time of the year, he waved her off with an obscene gesture known far and wide as 'the bird'.” “Lyle, we'll be following up on this story in the morning, but it has already taken one more strange twist. In a separate but related incident, still another member of the sorority who works as a candy striper at the local hospital was caught trying to smuggle a half dozen of the hospital's own adult diapers into her room. What makes the story odd is that she was wearing one of the diapers, complete with a pair of vinyl pants-- what we parents all commonly refer to as 'baby pants'. The young lady in question will also be spending the night in the municipal lockup, but alas, without her diaper, since jailhouse rules do not allow prisoners to have potential weapons such as diaper pins in their cells. Live, on scene, this is Emmett Bailey reporting for Channel 36, WPPP News!” . . . . “My name's Ruby; what are you in for?” “Theft,” Tippi tersely replied. Along with Cindy Carlson and Janis Marsden, Tippi was in a large cell in the basement of the central police station-- a cell nicknamed “the Tank” by the regulars. Ruby was one of them. “What did ya do … jack a car?” “Diapers,” Cindy moaned, still wiping tears out of her eyes. She had never been arrested before, and she was terrified. “Diapers? That's low girl, really low. Stealing a baby's diapers? The judge ain't gonna like that! Girl, the judge … he gonna throw the book at your white ass!” “What about you,” Tippi asked. Anything to change the subject. “Solicitation,” Ruby grinned. “In my line of work, it's an occupational hazard.” “And what is it you do,” Janis asked. Like Cindy, she was terrified, but it was the five hard cases with whom they were sharing the cell that scared her. She didn't want to become somebody's bitch. She just wanted to go home, and hide away from the world. Ruby did a double take, wondering whether she was being disrespected, or whether this chick really didn't know the score. Ruby didn't take kindly to being disrespected. “I'm a whore, Darling. Can't you tell? I do dress the part. Oh yes, I do!” “I've got an outfit just like yours,” Janis confessed. “I wear it to Disco clubs. I really dig Donna Summer.” “I like the Bee Gees myself,” Ruby laughed. “That one boy, the one with the high pitched voice? He'd look really good wearing my threads.” “So, what happens in the morning?” Tippi wanted to bring the conversation back to the fact that they were in jail, and screw Donna Summer and the Bee Gees both. “Oh, they gonna put us on the chain, and march us into the courtroom upstairs,” Ruby replied. “Then, one by one, we go before the judge. Some low life from the DA's office will read out the charge, and you'll be asked to plead guilty or not. Either way, the judge will set bail, and then you come back here until someone posts a bond to get you out. Hope you all got rich parents, cause the DA, he gonna throw a whole, heapin' bunch of charges at you, earn you some serious jail time. But don't worry; a good lawyer, he get you off easy this being your first offense and all. A few months in the workhouse … that would be my guess, this being your first offense and all. Mind you, though, good lawyers don't come cheap. Someone gonna need a new mortgage to pay for your lawyer's next holiday in Hawaii!” Ruby laughed, a high pitched cackle. Janis wanted to curl up into a ball and die. Her mom would probably help her on her way. Cindy wanted to go home, only she wouldn't have one after her parents disowned her. Tippi wanted to kill somebody … anybody would do. . . . . Comfortably ensconced in his favorite lounger, his feet resting on the ottoman, Dean Willard Turgeson turned on the TV to catch the ten o'clock news. The overblown mayhem that the local stations paraded as the outrage du jour held no interest for him, and he had never been a sports fan. No, he would endure the mindless tripe that Lyle Gunderson pitched as news only to get to the weather report. An ardent supporter of all causes environmental, Professor Turgeson prided himself on riding his bicycle to and from the office in good weather and bad, all four seasons of the year. Still, he had no desire to joust with the overpaid louts who drove the city snow plows. Hard experience had taught him this lesson well. “Good evening. This is Lyle Gunderson …” “And I'm Amy Kinkaid ...” “And this is WPPP News at Ten!!!” “Amy, leading the news tonight, the latest report from Teheran, and more bad news on the inflation front.” Sipping his hot cocoa, Willard endured the mindless drivel that passed for national news. “And now, for the lighter side of the news. Earlier this evening, there was quite a fracas over on Fraternity Row, and our own Emmett Bailey was there to report on the chaos. What's happening, Emmett?” “Lyle, earlier this evening campus police descended upon Fraternity Row, and specifically upon one of the sorority houses, Zeta Alpha Pi. It's being alleged that an organized gang of diaper thieves has been terrorizing the city, and that the police caught two of the thieves red-handed. We spoke with Chief Walter Mischof of the campus police ...” Willard's cup shattered as it dropped to the floor, hot cocoa rapidly cooling as it ran all over the highly polished faux stone flooring in his den. . . . . Standing in front of the mammoth fireplace, back turned to the flames, elegantly dressed in an imported silk smoking jacket, a Cohiba Behike smuggled out of Cuba in his right hand and a Lalique snifter of aged Sambuca in his left, Spats Belmondo was staring fixedly, almost maniacally, at the giant TV screen mounted on the wall of his study. “Emmett, a quick check revealed that Lullaby Diaper Service is owned by Vincent Belmondo, more commonly known as Spats Belmondo. We sent a second crew to interview Mister Belmondo at his residential estate on Lake Minnetonka, but when our own Lisa Jenkins asked him how a man of his colorful reputation could be running a diaper service, he told her in rather colorful terms to go jump in the lake. When Lisa pointed out that the lake is frozen at this time of the year, he waved her off with an obscene gesture known far and wide as 'the bird'.” “You bitches are dead,” he screamed; “dead, dead, dead!!!” Taking a puff on his expensive but contraband cigar, his face turning red with rage, Spats whirled around and threw his snifter into the fireplace, the fragile crystal shattering as the flames hungrily consumed the liqueur. “What part of 'no police involvement' did dese fuckin' morons miss? Do I have ta spell it out with crayons? Huh? Huh?” Spats turned, and stared fixedly at an aging but expensively framed photograph on his antique walnut desk. It was a family treasure, a photograph of his father Tommaso taken with the revered Al Capone, about a year after the dust up in that North Clark Street garage. “Wat d'ya think, Al? Huh? Should I pay dese fuckin' morons another visit come da morning? Yeah … I think so … yeah. Me and da boys, we gonna have a chat with Aardvark, Platypus, and da Twinkie. A nice, little chat. But first, da first tings. Think I'll go down to da courthouse in da morning, check out da broads for myself. Yeh, Al, dat's right … da first tings first.” 2 2 Link to comment
CCApril Posted March 14 Share Posted March 14 Spats aint happy! Bad things happen when Spats aint happy. Maybe a visit with the girls will cool him down? Hope he don't screw up and piss off Ian. He would have to change his nickname to Splat! 2 Link to comment
littlebopeeper Posted March 19 Share Posted March 19 Wow, what a fun read! From start to finish, the laughs just kept coming. You didn't take any prisoners here, but the take down of the Dean is a classic. Now, it's on to the parallel chapter in the Homage story. Keep them coming! 1 Link to comment
Babypants Posted March 21 Author Share Posted March 21 On 3/19/2024 at 9:55 AM, littlebopeeper said: Wow, what a fun read! From start to finish, the laughs just kept coming. You didn't take any prisoners here, but the take down of the Dean is a classic. Thank you! AARDVARK is meant to be funny in a kind of Rowan & Martin Laugh-In kind of way. Pompous ass wipes like the Dean made me desperate to find an excuse not to attend department meetings! 1 Link to comment
Babypants Posted April 1 Author Share Posted April 1 CHILDREN OF THE HEART “What's going on,” Ruby asked scornfully; “Homecoming at the lockup? You da Homecoming Queen, cutie pie?” Baffled, Melanie looked to Tippi for an explanation. She had no idea what the skank in the slutty dress was talking about. “A hooker,” Tippi shrugged; “semi-permanent resident. She's been schooling us on what to expect in the morning.” “And it's not the sort of thing we learn in the classroom,” Cindy giggled. “Anyway, how's it going on the home front?” “You didn't tell them?” Melanie was looking at Janis, shocked that she hadn't brought their sisters up to speed. “What was I supposed to say, Mel? Maybe you know how to answer Cindy's question. I don't.” Janis was sitting on the edge of a fold down bunk, holding her head in her hands, trying as best she could to hide from the world. “Chief Mischof, that female detective, and Professor Grady laid it out for us, and they didn't pull any punches. The DA was there in person, and the four of them worked up a deal. The whole sorority does community service as hospital volunteers until we graduate. We get hit with a big fine, which means our parents get hit with a big fine. We'll all be on probation, and have to keep our noses clean-- no more drinking, no drugs, no parties, no nothing. Hit the books, get the house's GPA out of the dumps, and our records will be wiped clean.” “Pretty predictable,” Tippi mused, “and nothing we can't live with.” “There's one more thing. Because we seem to have such a hard on for diapers, they've decided that we're all going to wear them 24/7 until we graduate … wear them and use them. We're losing our toilet privileges.” “Hoo boy,” Ruby clapped, “ain't that a hoot? You hear that, ladies? We done sharing this cell with a bunch of babies!” The other four miscreants were hooting and laughing so hard that two of them were bent over, swearing that they were going to bust a gut. “You all'd look so pretty in them pink baby dresses,” Ruby crowed, “crawling on the floor and all. And I know some boys that'd just love to have you suck on their binkies. For sure, my home boys'd teach you a thing or two! Hoo boy!” “How'd they nail you?” Tippi chose to ignore the ruckus. “I confessed,” Melanie answered, strangely proud of the decision that she had made. “Tip, we didn't just rip off the diaper service; we ripped off a mobster named Spats Belmondo ,,,” “You ripped off the wood chipper king?” Ruby licked her lips, and grinned wickedly. “Hoo boy, you ladies thought you wuz in trouble before? Well, now you got trouble! Dat Spats, he one mean mother fukker. He gonna put your asses to hooking in the streets, get you a pimp weigh about three hundred pounds when he dieting, a pimp who'll beat some manners into you. And when you all dried out and used up, then he gonna feed you to the wood chipper. That's his specialty … the wood chipper!” “Professor Grady thinks that our best shot to get out of this alive is to become his customers … get our diapers every week from Lullaby. He makes money and we get humiliated. Considering the alternative, I'm doing it.” “And the others?” “Eleven of the girls who don't know the score are bailing, some in the morning, some at the end of term. But five others are confessing to a crime they didn't commit, and everybody who's in the know is going to plead guilty as well. If you're in, that's forty one of us. Safety in numbers.” “But how?” Cindy couldn't comprehend what she was hearing. “I mean, how did he persuade the five to go along with this? It doesn't make any sense!” “It would if you had been there.” Janis lifted her head and stared at the others. “That poor man … we found out that he married a girl in Viet Nam, moved into her village, and they had a baby. But when he was wounded and put in the hospital for all those months, the men under him moved on, leaving the village defenseless. And somebody attacked it. They slaughtered everyone, Cindy … his wife and sister-in-law, the rest of his family, the whole village … everyone except the babies and the little children. He thinks that someone who knew that he could speak all those languages found out that he had a baby, and thought that it would be very valuable … a real prize, but they didn't know who to look for. So they took all the kids, and slaughtered everyone else to keep the secret hidden. For years, he's been looking for his daughter all over the world, him and the CIA both. Everybody seems to think that the little girl could be turned into a really dangerous weapon if she can absorb languages the way he does.” “I still don't get it,” Tippi cut in. “What does any of this have to do with us wearing diapers?” “He said … he told us that we all have the family we're born into, and the family we choose. He asked each of us to think about whether we're a family, real sisters, or just a bunch of strangers living under the same roof for a few years, never to see one another again after we graduate. I'd never thought about it before, but when he said it … the answer was obvious, to me and most of the others. The house … we're a family, Tip, a real family, and we're going to stick up for one another, just like real families do. Forty one of us are going to plead guilty and take our punishment. That's a lot of diapers, Tip, and a lot of money going into his pockets.” “So, we're going to buy him off.” Tippi began walking back and forth in the limited confines of the cell, thinking it over. “It's a shitty plan ...” Cindy audibly groaned, not at all sure whether Tippi was being too clever by half. “But it's better than no plan at all,” she finished. “All right; if that's the deal, we're going to take it.” “Are we all going before the judge,” Cindy wanted to know. Forty one members of ZAP could easily turn the courtroom into a madhouse. “Yeah,” Melanie answered. “The Chief and the Professor are going to talk with the judge about making it a closed hearing so that the press won't get a hold of our names. Professor Grady … he's some kind of CIA agent. The Batgirl calls him her Secret Agent Man … and talk about being in love! She'd crawl over broken glass if that's what it took to save him! Anyway, he seems to have a lot of pull. I mean, he snapped his fingers and the District Attorney came running … the DA himself! So, there's a good chance he can pull this off. I hope so!” . . . . “Excuse me, Professor.” Ian was quietly engaged in conversation with a quartet who had opted to plead guilty, and were awaiting their turn to be ferried downtown. He had now had several such conversations, and in each case he had been deeply touched by the shows of sympathy and the occasional hug that awaited him. Twice, he had taken out his wallet, and passed the photo of his family around the circle. Each time, the poignancy of the moment brought tears to young and foolish eyes. Bernice held up his diaper bag, which Priscilla had passed to her before making a run downtown. “Officer Canon wanted me to remind you to call your fiancee, and let her know where you are. Have you made plans to get home tonight?” “No,” he confessed. “It never occurred to us that we would get caught up in something like this.” “Well, we do have a guest room, and now that we have your things, you are welcome to stay the night. I can even offer you a toiletry kit, courtesy of one of the airlines.” “Bernice, thank you, but I don't want to be a nuisance.” “Actually, Professor, you would be doing me a favor. If the girls are locked up, this house is going to be virtually empty … more so than at any other time in the twenty-five years that I've lived here.” “Did … uh ...did Officer Canon pass you the key to my diaper cover?” “She did,” Bernice smiled, “along with strict instructions to change you myself, and then lock you up again before putting you to bed. Do you mind telling me what this is all about?” “I wish I could say that we're just having some good, old fashioned kinky fun,” Ian lamented with a sigh, “but the truth is that I risk a sciatic attack every time I change my diapers, especially the poopy ones. So, my fiancee came up with the idea of using a locking cover to take matters out of my hands. She wants me to become comfortable with having other people change me. I must say, her plan does seem to be working.” “I see.” Then Bernice grinned knowingly. “But would I be right in guessing that she does not want me to pass this key on to one of my charges … let a sorority girl do the honors?” Ian exploded with laughter. “Let's just say that Sarah is not on board with scalp hunting! Nor does she trust me, and with good reason. Every time that I smile at a woman roughly my age, and she smiles back? I fall in love!” “And where does this leave Officer Canon? A person would have to be blind not to see that the two of you are madly in love!” “Well, Sarah is already sharing me with two of her friends, and I've come up with a devious plan to persuade her to add Priscilla to our household. And before you go there? Priscilla is keen on the idea.” “Which leaves her parents ...” “Working on it.” “Right, then. Go say goodnight to Chief Mischof, and remind the girls that you will be there in the morning to wave your magic wand and make everything come out all right. Then, I'll show you to your room, change you, and tuck you in. But promise me that you will call this Sarah of yours. You don't want her to be up all night worrying about you.” . . . . Ian!! When the phone rang, this was the first thought to run through Sarah's sleep fogged brain. In the darkness, with Vickie's head resting peacefully upon her chest, she could not reach the phone or the lamp on her nightstand. As gently as she could, she eased Vickie onto the pillow. The phone kept ringing. She was sure, now, that it was Ian. “Hello,” she whispered. Glancing at her alarm clock, still drowsy, she was surprised to see that it was not even ten o'clock. “Ian?” “Is this Sarah?” A woman's voice. “Yes … yes … who?” “Sarah, my name is Bernice Miller. I'm the house mom for the Zeta Alpha Pi sorority. Ian is here. Professor Grady and the Canons, mother and daughter, traced the stolen diapers to this property, and now, in concert with Chief Mischof of our campus police department and the District Attorney, they are trying to keep this from turning into a circus. Fully forty one of the fifty two girls in this house will plead guilty in court tomorrow morning. If you turn on WPPP for the local news at ten, at some point I should imagine you will see some of what has been going on over here.” “Ian. You say that he is there, in your house?” “Yes. Sarah, it's late, he has no transport, and between classes and the court appearance, he is going to have a busy morning. We're calling to let you know that he will be staying here overnight; we have a guest room that over the years has accommodated many a stranded parent, so it's not an inconvenience.” “Can I speak with him, please?” “Of course; I'll put him on … but don't hang up when you're finished. We have more to discuss.” “Mommy?” Vickie had slowly come awake, and realized that Ian was on the phone-- Ian and someone else. “Shhh, baby girl; let me talk to Ian first. You can speak to him when I'm done.” “Hello.” Sarah recognized his voice instantly. “Are you okay?” “It's been a long day and an even longer night, and I had another seizure, but Priscilla did exactly what Vickie taught her to do, so I wasn't out very long.” “Oh, Ian ...” Sarah choked, the words caught momentarily in her throat. “This can't go on,” she finally managed to say. “What happened?” “It was just another frat house stunt, but it's put some of the girls in serious trouble. They were at each other's throats in the dining room, about to make a terrible decision that in time some of them would come bitterly to regret, so I … I … I told them what happened to me in Viet Nam … what happens when you fail the family you choose … I didn't want them to repeat my mistakes, but just talking about mine … trying to persuade them to choose more wisely than I did … triggered the episode. One moment I was fine, and the next it felt like I was being sucked into a whirlpool, and I ended up … one second I was talking about the last battle, and the next I was living it. Again.” “Mommy?” Vickie's voice was much more insistent. She knew that something was wrong, and knew that it involved Ian. “He's had another seizure,” Putting her hand over the mouthpiece and wanting to keep Vickie calm, Sarah made it an offhand remark. “But he's okay.” In response, Vickie simply held out her hand. She wanted to speak with Ian, and she wanted to do it now. “Vickie's here,” Sarah said as she returned to the phone. “She wants to speak with you.” Sarah passed Vickie the phone. “Vix, it was another seizure, but Priscilla had everything under control. You taught her well.” Like Sarah, Ian didn't want Vickie to jump off the deep end. “Ian, this is the third time in six days. We have got to get on top of this before it happens when there's no one around to help you. I want you back in the ward, where we can safely use Princess Poopy Pants to take you deeper. The sooner, the better.” “Sunday morning,” Ian suggested, knowing that the revelations he would deliver to the Circle on Saturday night might end more than one relationship. “Please put Sarah back on.” “Bernice wants to talk with you again,” he said as he passed the phone. “About his diapers,” Bernice began. “My first thought was simply to change him, and then leave. But after he told me that you're an RN, I changed my mind. I'd like you to walk me through this.” “Do you have the key to his diaper cover?” “Yes.” “Good. Simply insert it. It will attach to the lock, and pull it out. Don't let him interfere when you're changing him-- and don't hesitate to slap his hands aside if necessary. For the rest, it's just like changing a baby … there's really no difference. When you're finished, reinsert the lock, and you will hear it click into place.” “Anything else?” “Yes. If you look in the side pockets of his diaper bag, you should find four bottles of breast milk. Warm up two now and two in the morning, and bottle feed him just like you would any other infant. If you can manage it, cradle him in your arms and treat him to your version of baby talk. I know it sounds silly, but this is an important part of his therapy. To get past these seizures, we have to regress him to infancy.” “I understand. Your fiance is an extraordinary man, Sarah, and I want to help.” “One more thing. He's due for an over the knee spanking. If he gives you any trouble, I'd like you to give him twenty hard spanks before you feed him his ba bas. Think you can do that?” “Easily,” Bernice laughed. “You'd be amazed to discover how many times I've delivered an over the knee spanking in this house!” Bernice winked at Ian as she hung up the phone. “I think we've found another sitter for little baby Ian,” Sarah grinned as she rolled over and pulled Vickie close. She had thoroughly enjoyed changing her baby girl's wet and messy diaper at bedtime, and she was confident that the diuretics and laxatives would continue to work their magic during the night. Reduced to infancy, a hopelessly incontinent Victoria Robinson would finally receive the love and attention she so clearly craved. For her part, as she returned to sleep Vickie opened her mouth and latched onto her mommy's breast. As she nursed, Sarah could feel a stirring in her body that wasn't sexual. She was certain that in time she would begin producing the milk that her babies required. . . . . “And the hits, they just ah keep on ah coming!” Hands on hips, Ruby was shaking her head in mock disappointment. “Look, ladies, we got us three more of dem babies to play with! Oh, yes we do!” Ruby's four friends, all of them veterans of jailhouse row, were gleeful. “I want that tall, skinny one,” one of them declared as she pointed her finger at Tippi. “Her tongue as long as her legs, we gonna have ourselves a good, old time!” “Hail, hail, the Council's here,” Tippi muttered as Joyce Wiggins, Kimberly Doyle and Amanda Cunningham piled in, the door slamming loudly shut behind them. The three newcomers were as wide eyed as Janis had been upon arrival, but Tippi knew that they would settle down soon enough. Misery, after all, did thrive on company. “The press is having a field day.” Kimberly wanted to bring Tippi and Cindy up to date. “We'll be all over the news at ten, and the campus cops love us. They're hauling us over two to a squad car, which adds up to a lot of overtime. The Batgirl started at seven this morning, and she's still going strong. Can you imagine what that's gonna do to her paycheck?” “What I'm trying not to imagine is what my parents are going to do to my ass,” Cindy spat out through gritted teeth. “They watch the news at ten, and my Dad is going to go ballistic. When he gets to work in the morning? He'll probably find a pile of bibs, baby bottles and diapers sitting on his desk, with a note to the effect that everybody wanted to pitch in for my layette. And Mom will make me use them. My life is in the toilet.” “Well, since our social life has been flushed, on the plus side at least we'll have a lot of time to hit the books.” Joyce was determined to find the silver lining. “We might actually graduate!” “Legacies,” Melanie groaned; “why did they have to put me in a cell with Legacies?” . . . . “Just out of curiosity, how many?” “Spanks, you mean?” Ian simply nodded. “Twenty hard ones. Your mommy says that you're a very naughty baby, and that if you give me any trouble … any trouble at all … I'm to put you straight over my knee. I've meted out many a spanking in this house, and speaking frankly, I rather enjoy it. So, I'm going to change your diapee, and put you to bed with a couple of nice, warm bottles of breast milk-- and if you do give me any trouble, straight over my knee you'll go. Are you going to give auntie Bernice any trouble, baby?” “Uh … nope … going to be good as gold. My bottom has still not recovered from the paddling that I got yesterday!” “Then let's get to it. Am I supposed to undress you like a baby?” Again, Ian nodded. He figured that the less said, the better. Bernice removed his coat, necktie and shirt, unbuckled and dropped his pants, then ordered him to sit on the edge of the bed so that she could remove his shoes and socks. When his trousers had also been set aside, she had him stand so that she could examine his thickly padded bottom. She tried, and failed, to get so much as a finger inside the waist band of his heavy canvas diaper cover. She nodded with approval. “This is impressive,” she remarked; “in fact, I'd like to buy a few to keep on hand. They would definitely come in handy.” Again, Ian said nothing. “I've had quite a few bedwetters living here over the years,” she went on, “and they have all fallen into one of two groups. The first are the ones who know that they need to wear protection, and don't make a fuss about it. These I can trust to manage the problem on their own. But the second group? These are the girls that swear it was just an accident, and won't ever happen again. Well, it won't, at least not in this house, because I diaper them myself, and finish off with a pair of locking baby pants. It means extra work in the morning, but the savings on ruined bedding and mattresses makes it worth it.” “So, this is what my girls are going to be wearing from now on,” Bernice mused as she ran her fingers over the impenetrable canvas. “Well, it looks like I'm going to be cleaning a lot of messy bottoms.” “The logistics is the one part of this I don't have figured out.” Ian figured that he was back on safe ground. “Things will sort themselves out when they're at the hospitals, but you're going to need help here, and I haven't a clue how we see to their changes on campus. Setting this up is going to be a real challenge.” Rummaging around in Ian's diaper bag, Bernice had no difficulty finding the baby bottles, powder and wipes, but she also came up with a pacifier, which she triumphantly held aloft. “Babies don't need to think about such matters,” she said dismissively as she waved a warning finger in front of Ian's eyes. “Now, no more talk. Suck on your binkie like a good baby, and don't even think about taking it out, unless you really do want me to spank you. Do you?” “No, auntie Bernice; I'll be good.” Ian was beginning to wonder whether every female on the planet had a barely concealed spanking fetish. Not at all sure whether Bernice was serious or just playing around, he opened wide. “Be back in a moment.” Bernice dashed into the office to collect a diaper pail and a changing pad, which sported enough stains to make it clear that it had seen plenty of use. Unlocking and removing Ian's diaper cover and baby pants, with a grimace she waved her hand in front of her nose. “Definitely messy,” she declared. Bernice spread the pad across the bed, and ordered Ian to lie down. Gingerly opening the diaper and surveying the damage, she wasn't at all sure that she had enough wet wipes, but she set to work with a will. Surprisingly, however, it was easy to clean the mushy poop off of Ian's bottom. “Breast milk does have its advantages,” she murmured to herself as she methodically scrubbed his diaper area, paying especial attention to the folds of his skin. “And I love your diaper,” she commented. “It's so thick, and it looks to be super absorbent. Too bad that we can't get these from the diaper service; it would cut down on the workload.” Why didn't I think of that? Spats will need to add to the inventory to outfit all his new customers … These hospital diapers are good quality, and the girls won't be able to conceal them … he'll love the humiliation factor … Got to put him in touch with whoever does the ordering for the hospital … just one more carrot to ward off the stick! When she was powdering his behind, Bernice paused. The bruising was mottled, some of it an ugly shade of purple. She wondered whether this Sarah person actually knew what she was doing. “I'm glad that you're staying here tonight,” she went on. “And that you are being such a good baby. Another spanking you definitely do not need.” When she pulled them back up, Bernice carefully inspected Ian's vinyl pants. There were no telltale poop stains-- still another endorsement of the four pin method. The diaper cover quickly followed; the lock slid in easily, and slammed home with a satisfying click. “There,” she said as she helped him to his feet. “Let me have your binkie … ah, such a good baby.” She sat it on the nightstand, and pointed Ian in the direction of the bathroom. “Can you brush your teeth, baby, or do you want your auntie to do it for you?” “I think I can manage,” Ian grinned. “Then get to it while I go warm up your bottles. When you're finished, park that cute little butt of yours on the couch. I'm going to feed you just like any other baby.” With that, Bernice left for the kitchen 4 Link to comment
Bluebird67 Posted April 1 Share Posted April 1 Good to have an independent assessment of the condition of Ian’s backside! Good also to see at least some of the sorority showing an appreciation of genuine sisterhood too. I wonder whether anyone or anything can get Spats to follow a less antisocial path? I suppose he’s riding a tiger that’s hard to get down from, but you never know. 1 Link to comment
Babypants Posted April 2 Author Share Posted April 2 13 hours ago, Bluebird67 said: I wonder whether anyone or anything can get Spats to follow a less antisocial path? I suppose he’s riding a tiger that’s hard to get down from, but you never know. Spats will loom large as we dive deeper into the story unfolding in HOMAGE and AARDVARK. Indeed, in the next two scenes of HOMAGE, you will meet him up close and personal. And in the process, readers may begin to question just who Ian is, and what he is up to. Hope so. Link to comment
CDfm Posted April 2 Share Posted April 2 Again I got behind in this story as well. Given your advice, I went ahead and got caught up on this story before continuing on with the Homage story. 1 Link to comment
Babypants Posted April 4 Author Share Posted April 4 On 4/1/2024 at 7:43 AM, Bluebird67 said: Good also to see at least some of the sorority showing an appreciation of genuine sisterhood too. Thank you. At bottom, these two stories are an exploration of family. What is a family, and what is it that ties its members to each other? Link to comment
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