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AARDVARK, PLATYPUS, AND TWINKLETOES: ATTORNEYS AT LAW

 

HOMECOMING

 

“Hi, Martha, it's Suzie.  Sorry to bother you again, but if you've got a minute, I'd sure appreciate it.”

 

“Sure thing, Suz.  What can LIP do for the esteemed house of PISS?”

 

“I just spoke with Bernice.  She says that losing eleven of their members will put the house financially in jeopardy.  One of my girls came up with a brilliant plan to lend a hand.  Wendy still wets the bed, and didn't put up a fuss when I urged her to wear diapers and baby pants at night.  Now she tells me that she would be willing to move to ZAP in order to help out, and in return I'm going to take one of their refugees-- a straight trade.  Wendy's idea is to call around all the houses, and see if we have any other bed wetters who would be willing to move.  She thinks that ZAP's forty-one diapered felons would give the other girls a great support structure, and I am inclined to agree.”

 

“Suzie, it's a great idea, and as it happens Cathy Erickson, one of our sophomores, also wets the bed.  I had to lay down the law to get her into diapers, and there's so much bad blood between us that I think it would be in her best interest to move out.  I'll mention Wendy's idea over lunch, and get back to you if she interested.”

 

“Thanks, Martha; you're a peach!”

 

“Anything to help a house in need.  Say, have you talked to Gerdie yet?  I know for a fact that two of PAL's girls are bed wetters, and wearing diapers.  She has them sharing a room, and the other girls have nicknamed it 'the nursery'.  Apparently, you can't miss the mix of urine and baby powder in the air, so the teasing is pretty much non-stop.  I'd lay money that they'll move to ZAP in a heartbeat!”

 

“Thanks for the heads up, Martha; I'll give Gerdie a call, and get the ball rolling!  Later!”

 

One by one, Suzie reached out to the rest of the sororities.  She was surprised to learn that fully fourteen of the sisterhood were wetting their beds, and all of them were dressed for the occasion in diapers and baby pants.  Some, like Wendy, were happy to wake up in a dry bed; others, like Cathy, had fought back against the humiliation of having to wear diapers, capitulating only when threatened with expulsion from the chapter.  The teasing, Suzie learned, was pretty much a constant for the diaper bound, and some of the teasing was truly vicious.  All in all, therefore, the situation looked promising.

 

.  .  .  .

 

With the girls safely back on the bus and the wheels in motion, Ian stood up to get their attention.  He was sharing one of the front seats with Priscilla, while Bernice and Cindy shared the other.

 

“Eyes front,” Cindy yelled; “our new Dad has something to say!”

 

“Daddy, I need a bigger allowance,” Melanie called out; “everything costs so much more these days, what with inflation and all.”

 

Laughter, and clapping, erupted all over the bus, and Ian was laughing right along with everyone else.

 

“The first thing I want to say is that I'm proud of the way you've handled yourselves today … in court, and in the hospital.  We call this 'grace under fire', and you did yourselves proud.  And just for the record?  I've seen a lot of young women in blue scrubs over the years, but you outshine them all!  This hospital is lucky to have the forty-one of you in the candy striper program, and I have no doubt that your service will set a new standard for your sorority nationwide.  Now, the Batgirl would like a word.”

 

More laughter and cheers rocked the bus as Priscilla stood up to take Ian's place.

 

“Thank you, Secret Agent Man.”  Priscilla looked at him, the depth of her feelings on full display.  “Okay,” she began as she looked around the sea of upturned faces.  “Here's where we're at.  While Bernice and Ian were collecting the keys to your diaper covers, I made a quick call to advise Chief Mischof that we'll be back at the house in a few minutes.  We don't know what awaits you there, but the Chief has decided not to take anything for granted.  He's sending some of our best to maintain order, and he's coming to take personal charge of the festivities.  So, first question: if there are a bunch of frat boys waiting to greet you with the usual hoots and howls, how do you want to handle it?”

 

“Let me off first,” Kimberly answered.  “If my boyfriend Derek is there, I'm going to tell him that I'm freezing my well diapered butt off, and ask to borrow his winter coat.  If he's not there, then I'll flaunt my boobs and promise a real treat to the first frat boy to do the honors!”

 

The girls roared with laughter, and began pounding the back of the seats ahead of them.

 

“You go, Kim,” Melanie screamed.  “Make them beg for it!”

 

“What about the press?”  Priscilla had to yell to make herself heard over the hubbub.  “Are any of you up for interviews?  Get your side of the story out there for the public to hear?”

 

“We have to protect Professor Grady.”  Janis' voice was somber, and it carried great weight with her sisters, who quieted instantly.  “If they've discovered that he's a … a secret agent man … it's him they will want to interview.  And when they learn about his family ...”

 

She shuddered.

 

“And how are we going to protect him, Janis?”  Bernice was shocked that it was Janis Marsden who had spoken up, but at the same time she was deeply proud of the fact that one of her girls had the generosity of spirit to care for others at a moment when the vast majority of people would think only of themselves.

 

“We shield him, just like we have been doing against the poachers.  And this time we get the fraternities to help .  A lot of them are in the ROTC program, and they will be glad to join with us.  We keep the crazies away, and we make the press behave themselves.  No shoving microphones or cameras in his face!”

 

“Thank you, Janis.”  Ian's voice could barely be heard over the applause that rang out all over the bus.  “There have been plenty of times in recent years when it was easy for me to lose sight of what it was we were fighting for over there.  You have just renewed my faith in our people.”

 

“Oh, my,” Priscilla declared.  The bus had just turned the last corner before approaching the house, and she was looking out the windshield.  Police cars were cheek by jowl with news vans, and the sidewalk was packed with onlookers.

 

“That's one hell of a reception committee,” the driver muttered more or less to himself.  Unable to park parallel with the curb, he brought the bus up to the foot of the driveway at an angle, and as a result the rear of the bus was sticking out far enough to block more than half the road.  A huge traffic jam would be the inevitable result, guaranteeing the local TV stations a bonanza of prime footage for the early evening broadcasts.

 

.  .  .  .

 

Backing into the loading dock, Ken Howell was still dazed, the numbers piling up in his brain still not making any sense.  Fifteen hundred to two thousand adult diapers a week, and all going to a sorority house where no one actually needed to wear a diaper.  Beam me up, Scotty!

 

“Miss Belmondo, Miss Belmondo,” he screeched as he rushed into Lullaby's office.  I've got our diapers back from the sorority house, but you're not gonna believe this!  We've got forty-one new customers … fifteen hundred to maybe as many as two thousand adult diapers a week!  What are we gonna do?”

 

“The first thing,” Harriet said as she tried to calm her overwrought driver down, “is get the diapers out of the van.  Then we separate the baby diapers from the adult.  Next, we figure out how many adult diapers we have on hand, and how many are surplus above and beyond our regular deliveries to the nursing homes and individual clients like my uncle Fredo, Professor Grady, and the like.  So, get cracking!”

 

“Yes, Ma'am!”  Ken all but saluted as he rushed back out to the van and got to work.

 

“Francie, do we have enough on hand to get that sorority through the weekend?  Forty-one girls at five changes a day, for four days altogether?”

 

“That's eight hundred and twenty diapers!”  Francie was running the numbers in her head.  “No way!  At best, we can do two hundred a day!  We'd need to deliver daily!”

 

“Then, that's what we're gonna do!  We'll make a daily drop off and pick up  … and you know what?”

 

“What?”  Francine knew her boss well enough to figure that something devilish was in the works.

 

“I'm gonna call all the news desks at the local stations, and tell them when our truck is gonna arrive!  They can interview Ken … the girls … hell, for all I care, they can interview the man in the moon!  As long as they have our truck in the shot, and everybody watching TV in the Cities sees it?  We'll make a fortune!”

 

“Gold mine,” Francie shrieked.  “Gold mine!  We could make the national news!  Just think, Harry … you could be interviewed on TV nationally!  Mike Wallace … Harry Reasoner … even that frog faced guy … Dan, what's his name?  If ever there was a guy who needed to be wearing a diaper, it's that clown!”

 

.  .  .  .

 

“Battle stations, everyone,” Ian called out.  “There must be a thousand people waiting for us!”

 

“I go first,” Kimberly screamed.  “But I'm going to do this with style!  Everybody?  When the door opens and I start down the steps … hum The Stripper as loud as you can!”

 

“Kimberly … Kimberly!”  The girls were chanting her name at the top of their lungs as they spontaneously began to unlatch the windows and lower them.

 

“Kimberly … Kimberly!”

 

“The bus has arrived!”  Emmett Bailey was screaming to be heard over the roar of hooting frat boys, police car sirens, and chanting sorority girls.  “This is a madhouse!  If the police can't keep order, we could have blood in the streets!  And … and … the door is opening!  The girls are coming out!  This is the moment the whole country has been waiting for!”

 

Emmett was exaggerating.  He was live, all right, but only on his own local affiliate.  The nightly news on his network would have to wait.

 

Kimberly stuck her right leg out the door, flexed her knee, and kicked.  The girls continued to belt out Andre Previn's The Stripper as she slowly descended to set foot on the frozen concrete.

 

“Derek,” she screamed.  “I'm cold!  Get your butt over here!”

 

Throwing caution to the winds, Kimberly tossed her makeshift sarong-- really just a loathsome hospital gown, notoriously short in the front and open in the back-- aside.  It fluttered in the light breeze before falling into the slush.

 

It was a TV shot for the ages.  A drop dead gorgeous sorority girl, an Amazon well over six feet tall, standing there in the late November wind, wearing nothing more than a blouse over the bra imprisoning her fabulous teats-- and, of course, a hideously thick diaper, a pair of vinyl baby pants, and a canvas diaper cover locked into place with an impenetrable lock!

 

Kimberly fondled the lock as she scanned the crowd.

 

“Derek!”  She finally spotted her boyfriend in the throng.  “I'm cold!  Get your butt over here, and give me your coat!”

 

“Coming,” Derek yelled in return as he forced his way through the crowd.  Kimberly was his goddess, and he wasn't about to share.  He peeled off his winter coat, and hastily wrapped it around her shoulders.

 

“Are you okay,” he whispered.  “I've been so worried …”

 

“Just cold,” Kimberly whispered in return.  “But it's all better now.  Want to walk me into the house?”  Kimberly was fluttering her eyebrows, pretending to be cold.

 

“Yeah,” he grinned.  “But Kim, what I really want to do ...”

 

“Is change my diaper?”  Kimberly was still fluttering her eyebrows, Derek turning into a pile of goo right before her eyes.

 

“Yeah, that too,” he muttered.

 

Ooh, and it's alright and it's coming on                                                                           We gotta get right back to where we started from  …

 

Ian was singing softly to himself, envisioning the bus pulling into town in his all-time favorite sports movie ...

 

Wide-eyed, Priscilla jumped to her feet and carried on with the next refrain ...

Love is good, love can be strong
We gotta get right back to where we started from …

 

“Everybody sing,” she yelled; “let them hear you!”

 

Ooh, and it's alright and it's coming on                                                                           We gotta get right back to where we started from

Love is good, love can be strong
We gotta get right back to where we started from …

 

With the chorus rocking the bus, Cindy Carlson and Melanie Wilson dropped to the ground together, and waved to the crowd as air horns began to echo, the sound reverberating up and down the block.

 

Chief Mischof nodded at his officers, a big smile lighting up his features.  Somehow, the girls had come home not in shame but in triumph, and the crowd was eating it up.  It was  Fraternity Row's best moment in many a year.

 

“Cindy, you look fantastic in scrubs,” a pre-med student in one of the fraternities shouted.  “Can I have a date?”

 

Do you know how to change a diaper,” she shouted out in return, as other girls wearing blue scrubs piled off the bus behind her.  None of the girls wearing pants had been able to get them up over their monstrously thick hospital diapers, so blue scrubs donated by harried nurses was the uniform of the day for all but the fortunate few who had been wearing dresses at the time of their arrest.

 

“More importantly,” she cooed, “ are you up to wiping a messy bottom?  'Cause I'm gonna be a little stinker, and little stinkers don't change their own diapees!”

 

Cindy batted her eyelashes and swiveled her hips.

 

The frat boy almost passed out on the spot.

 

The air horns blared, and drivers caught up in the traffic jam forming out in the road began honking their horns.  Whether they were honking out of frustration or out of gratitude for the impromptu fashion show taking place on the sidewalk was anybody's guess.

 

And the cameras kept rolling,  All three networks had their human interest story for the prime time news slots.

 

Bernice followed the girls, to be greeted with a roar of applause.  Moms and Dads from the other houses poured out of the crowd to embrace her and welcome her home.  ZAP's future, she was repeatedly assured, was not in any danger.

 

Arm in arm, Priscilla and Ian were the last to descend.  Priscilla hoped to commandeer a police car, and quietly take their leave.  Ian had a class to teach, and it was her responsibility to get him to his classroom on time and in one piece.  But she took one last look at the bus.

 

“There's never a sledge hammer around when you need one,” she sighed.

 

“Yeah, you're right,” Ian smiled.  “The bus ain't mean enough!”

 

“Next time?”  Priscilla looped her arm through Ian's …

 

A quiet exit, as it turned out, was most definitely not in the cards.

 

“Professor Grady … Major!”  Emmett Bailey rushed forward, outthrust microphone in hand.  “Emmett Bailey of WPPP News,” he said breathlessly.  “Is it true that you work for the CIA as well as the university … that you're a spy?”

 

THE DIAPER HOUSE

 

“All right, ladies,” Bernice called out, “everyone find a seat.  Thug, Mike, the rest of you … park it!”

 

Running the gauntlet from the bus that had dropped them off out at the curb, ZAP's house mom had shepherded all of her charges into the dining room, along with the half dozen or so boyfriends from the nearby fraternities who had chosen loyally to stand by their sweethearts, diapers or no diapers.

 

Thug, whose real name was Derek Naughton, was seated at Kimberly Doyle's side, and the two were holding hands.  It didn't bother Kim in the slightest that Derek's fingers were busily playing across the surface of the heavy canvas cover that locked her into her thick hospital diaper and baby pants.

 

Derek Naughton was a twenty year old goon-- the enforcer on the school's highly ranked hockey team.  He had turned down an offer to join the fabled Flin Flon Bombers in one of Canada's prestigious junior leagues because he couldn't bear to part with his girlfriend.  Bernice held three of the four keys to Kim's diaper cover, but the six foot three inch Amazon known affectionately to all as “Fraulein D Cup” held the keys to Derek Naughton's heart.

 

“First order of business,” Bernice barked in her best drill sergeant voice.  “Raise your hand if you need your diaper changed, but let me clue you in: unless you're sitting in a poopy diaper, don't waste my time.  Anybody?”

 

Bernice looked around the room, but there were no hands in the air.

 

“Right,” she said.  “When you get up to your rooms, I want each of you to sit down and write me a note summarizing your toileting habits.  In particular, I want to know how many times a day you need the toilet for number two, and whether you're regular or totally unpredictable.  If the latter, give some thought to whether or not you want to use enemas to put you on a fixed schedule-- but remember, you will be using your diaper from here on out until you graduate, and you will never, ever be allowed to change yourself, or clean yourself.  Your caregivers will be responsible for your well-being, so you might want to work extra hard to stay on their good side!”

 

“Will our steadies really be changing our diapers,” Kim asked.  She had visions of her muscular boyfriend running his hands over her body, slowly working baby oil into all of the nooks and crannies.

 

“We're gonna need a penalty box,” Melanie chirped, “for when Thug gets two minutes for roughing.”

 

“A crib would do nicely,” Joyce suggested, “especially for five minute majors!”

 

The room erupted in laughter which, Bernice thought, was a very good sign.

 

“What's the timetable,” she asked, referring to their entry into the hospital's candy striper program.  It amazed her that all forty-one of her charges had been accepted, and would now be doing good works twice a week in three hour shifts.  However, Ian and Priscilla had ushered the girls out of the hospital before she had had a chance to go over the details with Gayle Soderberg.  A conversation with the Patient Relations administrator was high on her “to do” list.

 

“I have a shift this afternoon at three,” Janis announced.  “I'll go in early and track down Missus Soderberg.  She will schedule an orientation meeting as soon as she sorts out who is going to be working where.  Mine lasted three hours … a bit more than an hour to go over the rules and regs, and then a tour of the hospital.  It's a big place, and you can get lost in there if you don't know your way around.”

 

“Will she be changing your diaper, Jannie?” 

 

Tippi was really curious about the routine.  She expected Sarah to change her most of the time, but she wondered whether anyone in her department could be delegated to do the job-- anyone, male or female.

 

“No,” Janis blushed.  “If I'm wet enough, or messy, Sylvie will change me just before she goes off shift.  It will always be someone in my unit who does the honors.  But,” she continued, “she may not change me at all.  We're expected to soak these diapers, and from what Sylvie told me, one of them might last all day!”

 

“All day!”  It was Cindy who spoke up, but there were audible groans all over the room.  “That's got diaper rash written all over it!”

 

“Are you sure that you want your boyfriends to change you,” Bernice asked mildly.  “If they miss a spot?  In these diapers, you will soon find out!”

 

“So, what are we gonna do?”  Tippi was hard pressed to see how the forty-one of them could have their diapers changed on campus.  The place was huge.

 

“I'm glad that you asked, Tippi, because you do have options.”  Bernice walked over to the side of the room, and returned with a bag of  diapers that Ken Howell, Lullaby's driver, had dumped near the door.  She opened the bag, and took one of the adult diapers and spread it out for the girls to see.

 

“There are seven bags, each with thirty diapers.  Right now, this is all the diaper service can offer us, so for the time being they will be delivering daily ...”

 

Another round of loud groans swept the room.

 

“You mean that truck is going to be parked out there every, single day?”  Linda Strickland was aghast, but so was everyone else in the room.  They had all expected this particular form of humiliation to be visited upon them only once a week.

 

“Again?  For the time being?  Yes.”

 

Bernice pointed at the line of diaper pails that also skirted the wall.  “They've left us twenty-one pails,” she noted,   “Since you sleep two to a room, that nicely takes care of all our needs.  So, each of you will have five of these diapers for your daily use.  As you can see ...”

 

Bernice held the diaper out in front of her so that it was visible to everyone in the chamber.

 

“... the diapers coming from Lullaby are much thinner that the hospital diaper that each of you is now wearing.  So, you have two basic options.  The first is to go with the hospital diaper, because as Janis just pointed out, they are so thick that you might get by with two a day.  That would save you, or your parents, a lot of money over the long haul, but they will always draw attention to themselves.”

 

“The second option would be to use these thinner diapers during the day, which would add to your weekly bill, but you might be able to get by with your current wardrobe rather than laying out a bundle for new clothes.”

 

“Oh, the horror of it,” Melanie grinned, “being forced to go shopping for a whole, new wardrobe!”

 

Laughter and clapping swept across the room.  Monthly allowances got chewed up quickly in the upscale outlets at the Galleria mall.  Competition with the other houses never let up.

 

“I was about to say,” Bernice resumed when the laughter died, “that you could combine wearing these thinner diapers during the day, and the hospital diaper in the evening and when you go to bed.  Those of you fortunate enough to have only one BM, at about the same time every day, will find this to be the best choice by far.”

 

Bernice slowly counted to three in her head. 

 

“IF your parents agree, of course.”  She slowly surveyed the room.  “Which brings us to the subject of those twenty-five hundred dollar fines, and the weekly bill that is going to be coming from the diaper service.  Your parents may decide that two of these highly visible, super thick hospital diapers would not only be the least expensive option but also the most appropriate.  So, when you telephone them-- and you will all be doing so over the next hour-- you should give careful thought to what you say, and how you say it.  Get this wrong, and I guarantee that some of you will end up walking around campus in a poopy diaper for hours on end!”

 

“Now,” she clapped, “we have just one more thing to talk about before you grab your pails and your diapers and head upstairs to get things squared away.  Wendy?”

 

Bernice beckoned for Wendy to join her, and affectionately wrapped an arm around her shoulder when she did so.

 

“This is Wendy Stafford, who has volunteered to leave PISS and join us to help ease our financial difficulties.  In turn, Suzie Marshall will be taking one of our refugees in tow.  Suzie is talking with all of the other house moms, with an eye to following through on an idea that Wendy came up with this morning-- offer all the girls in the other houses with bed wetting issues a new home with us here at ZAP.  If we can recruit enough new blood to offset most or all of our losses, we can survive financially.  What Wendy and I want to know is, quite simply, whether she will be welcome here.”

 

“What's your GPA,” Amanda Cunningham yelled out.

 

“I'm on the Dean's Honor Roll,” Wendy shyly replied.

 

“Welcome!”  Cindy was on her feet, arms outstretched.  “We need all the help we can get!”

 

“Wendy, would you like to room with me?”  Janis' roommate was one of the eleven fleeing the house.

 

“Sisters forever?”  Wendy was thinking about her public confession that she was a bed wetter in diapers, and her outspoken determination to do what she could to save ZAP from financial ruin.

 

“Sisters forever,” Janis agreed.

 

“And the charter members of Professor Grady's Amazon Battalion,” Cindy crowed.  No one would soon forget Janis knocking the newscaster down in their driveway when he tried too aggressively to question their new dad.  And it was Wendy who had leaped to her side, equally determined to protect him while defiantly announcing her diapered status to everyone watching the broadcast that was being fed live to TV screens throughout the region. 

 

The sorority's homecoming, which climaxed an odyssey that had sent the girls from jail to courtroom to hospital, had been a hoot.

 

Wendy and Janis hugged.

 

Sisters forever.

 

.  .  .  .

 

“Hello.”

 

“Good afternoon.  I'd like to speak with Jerry Cromwell, please.”

 

“You've got him.”

 

“Mr. Cromwell, my name is Harriet Belmondo.  I manage Lullaby Diaper Service.  One of my customers gave me your number, and urged me to call you.  We have just acquired forty-one new adult customers ...”

 

“We're talking about the sorority girls, right?  And your customer is Major Grady?”

 

“That's correct … Professor Grady.  We were thinking that we would need to add fifteen hundred … at most … two thousand adult diapers to our inventory to service the sorority's needs, but he says that you think our calculus is all wrong.  He urged me to give you a call, and let you explain the problem from your point of view.  So, here I am.”

 

“Glad to be of assistance.  Let me first ask about your equipment.  What are you running?”

 

“Speed Queen for the washers, and ADC for the dryers.”

 

“Both good choices.  Age range?

 

“Three to twelve years.”

 

“Don't plan on more than fifteen for anything.  We'll replace your clunkers with dryers that finish a cycle in less than half the time, but without taking a hit to their life expectancy.  Costly, but worth the investment.”

 

“We're trying to figure out whether we need to buy more equipment, and whether we even have the square footage.  It's a challenge.”

 

“I hear you.  With regard to the diapers … I'd plan on getting maybe a hundred to a hundred and twenty-five laundry cycles for new ones, after which the diaper will be ready for the rag bin.  If you want to buy used from us, I've got surplus capacity and I'll give you a discount.  Might be the best solution if you think some of these girls are going to chicken out and fly the coop.  No point in being stuck with excess inventory.”

 

“I hear you!  But frankly, I don't think these girls are going anywhere.  If they flee and get caught, they're going to jail.”

 

“Then the key variable is the total number of months in play.  The way Major Grady explained it, you've got first year students who'll be wearing and using for the next three and a half years, but you also have seniors who will move on next June.  He's going to talk with the girls this evening, and get you a firm number.  Once we have it in hand, we can calculate the most economic mix of new and used.”

 

“Sounds like a plan, Mister Cromwell; thank you very much!”

 

“Call me Crummy.  Everybody else does.”

 

“Crummy?  Oh, of course!  And for the record, I'm Harry, and my partner in crime is Francie.”

 

“It will be nice to meet you both.”

 

“I'm looking forward to it because, believe it or not, I have yet to lay my hands on one of these heavy duty diapers of yours.  Until we learn how many we can run through our machines, I won't know whether we have spare capacity or will need new equipment.”

 

“Where are you located?”

 

“Crystal … the northwestern suburbs.”

 

“I live in Maple Grove.  Tell you what.  I get off at five, and could drop a sample off at your office around five thirty or so.  Depends or whether or not you can hang on until then.”

 

“Are you kidding?  Normally, we close at five, but tonight Francie and I will be lucky to get out of here before seven!  We made the news at noon, and ever since, the phone has been ringing off the hook.  New customers means paperwork.  I HATE PAPERWORK!”

 

“I hear you,” Crummy laughed.  “My office is wall to wall filing cabinets.  To look at this place, you'd think that I eat, sleep and breathe order forms, but I'd rather go fishing.”

 

“See you at five thirty!  We can talk walleye and catfish!”

 

.  .  .  .

 

“Nice room,”  Wendy said approvingly.  “Lots of sun in the afternoon … enough closet space and dresser drawers for serious shoppers, and ...”

 

Wendy ran her hand over the antique, wooden bookcase.

 

“... a gentle reminder that we're students, and supposed to be studying!”

 

“Where do you think we should put the diaper pail,” Janis asked.  “In the closet?  Next to the door?”

 

“Take it from a bed wetter with years of experience under her belt,” Wendy laughed.  “Unless you want your clothes to smell like stale urine, you most definitely do not want to stash it in the closet!  I'm thinking under the window is our best bet; that's where I've been keeping mine at PISS, and where my Mom left it in my bedroom, back when I was in my bed wetting prime.”

 

“Under the window works for me,” Janis agreed.

 

“I come bearing gifts,” an anonymous male voice called out from the hallway.  A moment later, Derek stuck his head around the corner.

 

“Please, Thug, not another hockey puck,” Janis groaned.

 

“More like diapers … ten per room, divide them up anyway you want.”

 

Derek carried one of the unopened bags into the room, and sat it on Janis' bed.

 

“First time I've ever been upstairs,” he remarked.  “Now that I know the trick, I'm fated to become a pack mule!”

 

“Wendy, this is Thug … Thug, Wendy.”

 

The pair shook hands.

 

“Thug got his nickname last year,” Janis explained, “when he topped the league record for most penalty minutes in a single season.  He makes players on the opposing team mind their manners.”

 

“Let's see what we've got here,” Wendy answered as she began opening the bag.  She peeled ten of Lullaby's adult diapers off the top, and dropped them on the bed.

 

“What do you think,” Kimberly asked as she and Linda Strickland walked in the door.  They shared a room next door.

 

“It's awfully thin,” Wendy decreed as she held up one of the diapers and examined it critically.  “Definitely thinner than what I'm wearing to bed at night, which leaks like a sieve, baby pants or no baby pants.  I want to move up to one of the thick hospital diapers that you guys are wearing right now.  I figure if it's good enough for Professor Grady, it will be good enough for me.”

 

“Do you think one of these can take more than a single wetting?”  Linda poked one of the diapers on the bed with her forefinger, which was as close to a diaper as she wanted to get.

 

“If you're talking a steady stream … say, like, maybe twenty seconds on the toilet?  I wouldn't want to risk it … better to let it out in small squirts-- a dribble here and a dribble there.”

 

“Roughly translated,” Kim said with a frown, “what you're saying is that we need to reverse our toilet training … go back to peeing like we did when we were babies.”

 

“Something like that,” Wendy agreed.  “All of you are going to need to carry diaper bags with you everywhere you go, but day by day, the less often that you need to be changed, the less of a hassle this is going to be.  If you can find caregivers and schedule regular changes, then you can hold it and let it out in one, long stream.  But if you can't, then you really want to put yourself on a schedule-- say, consciously void every fifteen minutes or so.  Stick with it, and it shouldn't take long for your body to get ahead of the curve.”

 

“In short, do everything we can to become incontinent.”  Janis was thinking of her parents, and how she was going to explain all of this to them.

 

“I'm going to help Missus Miller,” Wendy responded in what she hoped was an encouraging tone.  “I'm hoping that she will let me change Jannie, and I'd be happy to change both of you as well.”

 

“Are you sure?”  Linda welcomed the idea, but she wondered whether Wendy knew what she was getting into.  “Even the messy ones?”

 

“Even the messy ones,” Wendy concurred.  “Sisters forever?”

 

“Sisters forever!”  The four girls clasped hands, and then broke the huddle with a loud shout.

 

“SISTERS FOREVER!!”

 

.  .  .  .

 

Having reduced Dean Turgeson to road kill, Suzie hurried back to the house.  Almost three dozen of her girls had signed up for lunch, and she wanted her charges to hear the Batgirl's idea about recruiting new blood for ZAP.  First and second year students with high school still clearly visible in their rear view mirrors, she mused, would be the best sounding board by far.

 

Sharing lunch and dinner with the girls never failed to warm Suzie's heart.  On paper, she was the house manager, with a housekeeper and a cook on permanent staff, and a handyman on call.  Services such as snow removal and lawn mowing were contracted out to local companies, the late nineteenth and early twentieth century mansions that made up Fraternity Row being some of the most prestigious historic properties in the Twin Cities.

 

Suzie answered directly to a Board of seven alumnae, and indirectly to a national Board that exercised the sole power to issue charters-- and to revoke them.  The local board members took a keen interest in the house's affairs, and like Susie, its members were determined to uphold traditions both old and new.  It always helped, Suzie thought, that five of the ladies had collected their share of scalps in days of old.

 

Suzie's contract did not require her to mingle with the girls, but she did.

 

Suzie's contract did not require her to do favors for the girls, but she did. 

 

In good weather and bad, she went grocery shopping every second day.  She religiously purchased whatever the cook required for breakfast, lunch and dinner, but she took personal responsibility for the between meal snacks.  Some of the girls weren't picky, but others were very picky indeed.  Potato chips, cookies, ice cream, a dizzying array of sodas-- the list went on and on, and every night Suzie laid out the goodies in the dining room at ten sharp, the girls descending the stairs like a herd of starving wildebeests, the counting of calories (at least for the moment) forgotten.

 

“Excuse me, ladies, but could I have your attention for a moment?”

 

Suzie had entered the room quietly, trying to gauge the mood before she drew attention to herself.

 

“As you all know, we are going to lose Wendy Stafford to ZAP.  I have spoken with Bernice Miller, their house mom, and she assures me that Wendy will be welcomed with open arms ...”

 

“Straight A's on her mid-terms no doubt helps,” one of the girls snickered.  Everyone in the room laughed, and even Suzie could only smile.  They all knew that ZAP's collective grade point average was the worst on the Row.

 

“In return,” Suzie went on when the girls settled down, “we shall be giving refuge to one of ZAP's strays.”

 

A chorus of groans, and not a few boos, swept across the room.

 

“Yes, yes, I know … we are bound to take a bit of a hit to our GPA, but we can live with it.  By way of compensation, I'm asking Bernice to send us their most seasoned scalp hunter.  Word on the street has it that we might snare Heather Douglas.”

 

“She's mine!”  Monica Havens was on her feet.  “I'm losing Wendy, so it's only fair that I get her replacement!”

 

“You just want private lessons.”  Cynthia Ashford was pretending to pout.  “A bit of tutoring before your next oral exam.”

 

Once again, the room erupted with laughter.  Heather Douglas was on a tear, having collected seven scalps in less than twelve weeks.  If she joined the sorority, it was all but guaranteed that PISS would repeat as champions for the fourth year in a row, meaning that the Seniors would graduate without ever suffering the bitter taste of defeat.

 

“One more thing,” Suzie continued.  “The Batgirl has come up with a really intriguing idea.  She wants ZAP to capitalize on becoming The Diaper House.  She thinks that we should cook up a flyer and send it out to every high school counselor in the five state area, advertising ZAP as a house where bed wetters are not only welcome but also assured of never being teased because of their diapers.  They would also have access to individual and group therapy at the hospital, which would give them a second support structure that's off campus and therefore discreet.”

 

“What do you think,” Suzie finished as she looked around the room.

 

“It's a really good idea,” one of the Sophomores remarked.  “Last year, when I was applying for residency in the dorms, there was a question on the form about bed wetting.  It didn't make sense until I moved in.  It was pretty obvious that the handicapped students and the bed wetters were all being housed in the rooms closest to the showers.  If you were assigned to one of those rooms and you weren't walking around on crutches, everybody assumed that you were a bed wetter, and wearing diapers and baby pants to bed every night.  After a couple of days, everyone knew, and treated you like a pariah.”

 

“In high school, I had a classmate tutoring me in calculus,” another girl remarked.  “She was really smart, but she confessed to me that she had such good grades because she was still a bed wetter.  Her parents put her to bed in diapers every night, which made sense, but they also refused to let her do sleepovers or go out on dates because she was still acting like a baby.  She had a lot of time on her hands.”

 

“And Wendy is on the Dean's Honor Roll,” Monica reminder her sisters.  “If bed wetters  are shy, and get good grades, they could lift ZAP's GPA out of the sewer in one semester.  I think it's a great idea.”

 

“Why not scout out the dorms right now,” still another girl suggested.  “Track down the bed wetters, find out which ones are really good students, and find a way to get them into ZAP before we come back after Christmas to start the new term.”

 

“Lizzie, that's a fantastic idea!”  Suzie was genuinely impressed, and it showed.  “And I tell you what; by way of thanking you for your thoughtfulness … snacks will be waiting for you tonight at nine thirty!”

 

The girls jumped to their feet and started clapping and cheering.  Hitting the books always left them hungry, and with term papers and final exams just a few weeks away, they were all hitting the books hard.  Their house mom didn't deal well with slackers.

 

.  .  .  .

 

“Hi, Daddy!  Did you see me on TV?”  Cindy Carlson was her usual upbeat self; wet diaper or dry, she was a celebrity now, and she wanted to mine her fifteen minutes of fame to the max.

 

“Yes, Sweetie, and I must say, you really do look good in blue scrubs.”  Andrew Carlson had always found it hard to be angry with his bubbly eldest daughter.

 

“Giving you a hard time at work?”

 

“A rough morning, but I'm no longer contemplating throwing myself off the roof.  Instead, your mother and I are thinking about moving to west Texas, changing our name, and making do with a double wide.  Right now, we're waiting for the school to call us back.  Last we heard, your sister went and locked herself in a broom closet, and is threatening to drink an entire bottle of Drano.”

 

“Figures.  Andy's such a spaz!  How's Mom taking it?”

 

“Surprisingly well.  Telling the whole world that you were driving the getaway car?  Congratulations, Honey … you're the first outlaw in the family.  I think your Mom's a little jealous because now your photo will forever hang on ZAP's wall of infamy.  Ah, but we really could have done without watching you piss into a diaper on live TV.  That was more than a little over the top.”

 

“Sorry, I just got carried away.  We were all having so much fun ...”

 

“How was your night in jail?”

 

“Kind of interesting.  We shared a cell with a bunch of prostitutes.  Kim and Ruby really hit it off.  When she gets out of  the county lockup, we're going to invite Ruby to visit the house and give us some pointers.  Scalp hunting is going to be a lot more challenging now that we're all locked into these massive diapers, and can't get our hands on the keys.”

 

“Your Mom's fine with the diapers; in fact, we're going to save all the stuff currently cluttering up my office for your layette.  Em's looking forward to treating you like a toddler over the holidays … pacifiers, baby food, bottle feedings, the works.  Right now, we figure that letting your sister change your diapers and feed you your ba bas is your best shot at getting back into her good graces.”

 

“That's if she doesn't go ahead and drink the bottle of Drano,” Cindy laughed.

 

“Well, there's that,” her Dad laughed in turn.  “So, who's got the keys, and what do we have to do to lay our hands on one?” 

 

“Well, let's see.  Since we're all going to be doing six hours of community service a week at the hospital as candy stripers, the nurse in my unit who supervises me will have one.  Missus Miller will have the other three, or maybe Professor Grady … our new house dad ... will get one.  No one seems to have figured out where we can get our diapers changed on campus.  So, I'd say that you need to have Mom come to some arrangement with Missus Miller, or we'll all be camping out in the house for Christmas.”

 

“You're right … we'll let Mom deal with Bernice.  And a candy striper?  Honey, I'm proud of you, and I'll be still more proud if you see it not as a punishment but as an opportunity to help others.”

 

“Thanks, Dad; I'll do my best.  And speaking of helping others … Tippi's call home didn't go so well.  Her mother gave her the old 'you're a public disgrace, and you've brought shame on your family' bit.  Dad, if things don't settle down, can I bring Tip home to spend Christmas with us?”

 

“Will your mom and sister get to change her diapers, too?”

 

“Don't see why not.  The more, the merrier.”

 

“I'll talk to your mom,  It's best for Tippi to work on healing the rift with her family, but worst comes to worst, your sisters are always welcome in our home.  Em still thinks of the house and all within it as part of our family.  Don't think that will ever change.”

 

“Thanks, Dad!  You guys are the greatest!  Now, as for Christmas … Dad, I've got my heart set on a motorbike, like Mel's Suzuki GT 750.  The Batgirl … er, Officer Canon … she's a biker, and she and Professor Grady have promised that, if we get our grades up, she'll organize a cycle club.  We've already got a name … The Easy Riders.  Dad, can you believe it?  Priscilla and her parents all ride bikes, and they all do the Rally in Sturgis every year!  That's gotta be awesome!”

 

“Or a parent's worst nightmare,” Andrew chuckled.  “But don't worry; I'll talk with Mom.  But when you're home, you should give it your all … play baby to the hilt.  Let Mom have her little girl back one last time, and let your sister have some fun at your expense.  You hear what I'm saying?”

 

“Loud and clear, Dad; loud and clear.”

 

“Sweetie, I'm proud of you.  You did something really stupid, but you are owning up to the consequences, and that says a lot about your character.”

 

“I grew up a lot last night, Dad … and no, not as a result of being arrested.  It was before, at the house, when we were tearing ourselves apart … playing the blame game.  Professor Grady begged us to stop.  Dad, he told us … he told us about his wife and family in Viet Nam, how his wife was murdered while he was in the hospital, and his daughter … really just a baby … was taken … how he's been searching for her for years … all over the world.  He begged us to hold on to one another … to see our sisters as the family we have chosen.  And he's right.  The moment he said it, I understood.  Mel and Tip … Kim and Jannie … this is my family, Dad, the one I chose, and I'm not giving it up for anything or anybody.  Sisters forever!”

 

“Sweetie, you really are your mother's daughter.  One day, you are going to take her place on the Board, just as one day your daughter will be a Legacy in the house.  If she's lucky, like you, she'll get her mother's old room.  After all, mothers do have their ways.”

 

“Wow!  I didn't know.  Score one for Mom!”

 

“I want to meet this Professor Grady of yours.  Any guy who'll go on TV and challenge a cop bar to a drinking contest is well worth knowing.”

 

“Have Mom work her magic on Missus Miller … an end of term reception, or something.”

 

“Good idea … wrong messenger.  Why don't you talk with her … and volunteer your time as well as Mom's to sell her on a party bringing all of us together.”

 

“Will do, Dad … and no time like the present.  Get used to hearing this ...”

 

“I NEED TO HAVE MY DIAPER CHECKED!”

 

TOM AND GERI

 

“Coming,” Cindy yelled.  Virtually the whole sorority had assembled in the dining hall, but Cindy was closest to the door, and tore it open in mid-knock.

 

“Whoa,” Cindy yelped as she stared at the two girls on the doorstep.  “WHERE'S THE PIZZA?”

 

Tom and Geri exchanged puzzled looks.  Neither one of them had any idea what Cindy Carlson was talking about.

 

“Um … uh, sorry,” Geri hesitantly replied, “but no one told us that we had to bring pizza.  Is this some kind of weird initiation thing?”

 

“No pizza?  Ah well … get your butts in here so that I can shut the door.  It's cold out there!”

 

Cindy turned about, and beat a hasty retreat into the warmth of the dining room.  “I'm Cindy Carlson,” she yelled back over her shoulder.  “I'm this year's Council President.  Welcome to the Diaper House!”

 

Tom and Geri followed Cindy into the dining room, and then stopped dead in their tracks.  There were dozens of girls their own age sitting in groups or milling about, and above the waist most were wearing a sweater or sweatshirt.  A scattering of T-shirts and blouses stood out like islands in a deep blue sea.

 

What was conspicuously missing were pants and skirts.  All of the girls were boldly displaying the now world famous locking canvas diaper cover that Kimberly Doyle had flaunted when she stepped down from the bus.  And, while Derek Naughton had wandered off to hockey practice, there were still a half dozen other guys sitting around, enjoying a view to be found nowhere else in Minnesota's winter wonderland.  With their fingers busily exploring the fleshy landscape, it was obvious that none of them were planning to head for the library and hit the books, although final exams were now looming on the horizon.

 

“Pay no attention to the way we're dressed,” Cindy rattled on.  “It's diaper check time, and some of us are hoping to be changed.  There's forty of us, and Mom and Wendy don't have any help.”

 

“Forty?”  Tom looked at Geri, who was frowning.  “I thought there were forty-one of you; did somebody bail?”

 

“Nah.  Jannie had to go back to the hospital-- she's a candy striper.  Someone will change her over there.”

 

“Bummer!  She's famous, you know?  We were in the Student Union, watching on TV when you guys got off the bus.  When she planted that jerk-off with the microphone, everybody got up and started clapping.  That guy is seriously creepy!”

 

“But Wendy's here,” Geri cut in.  “Is she really moving over from PISS?”

 

“She's already unpacked,” Joyce Wiggins answered.  “She's rooming with Jannie.”

 

Joyce was eager to have her diaper changed.  It had taken some effort, but she had cum twice in the thick hospital diaper, and now she was eager to move on and give Lullaby's much thinner offering the good, old college try. 

 

Joyce reckoned that a very satisfying poop, which she had nicely spread about by playing choo-choo on the floor of her room, would mask the telltale scent of her orgasm. 

And, since everyone was currently giving her a wide berth, it was pretty much guaranteed that neither Wendy nor Missus Miller would be inspecting her handiwork.  Poopy diapers, she concluded, did have their uses.

 

“What brings you guys to our iniquitous den?”

 

Cindy didn't know whether “iniquitous” was a real word or not, but it sounded like something that a premed student would say.  After talking it over with Mel and Tip, Cindy had decided that “Doctor Carlson” had a nice ring to it.  She was planning to change her major in the morning--she was pretty sure that she was currently majoring in Business Management, or maybe it was Theater Arts-- but first she would have to find out what premeds actually majored in.

 

“Uh … we're in PAL.  Our house mom said that we'd probably be happier at ZAP, so she sent us over to PISS to talk with Miss Marshall.  I guess that she was interviewing us, 'cause at the end she said that we were ideal candidates.  So, here we are.”

 

“You guys don't look like you're wearing diapers,” Melanie keenly observed.  “Are you bed wetters?”

 

Both girls nodded.  “We do everything right,” Geri mumbled.  “I mean, we have rubber sheets protecting the mattress … we wear diapers and baby pants, and sleep on big changing pads, but the teasing just goes on and on ...”

 

“It never stops,” Tom confirmed, the words catching in her throat.  “Our sisters are really cruel.”

 

“Well, no one in the Diaper House is gonna tease you!  Anyway, what are your names?”

 

“I'm Tom, and this is Geri,” Tom said.

 

“Say what!  You mean, like the cat and the mouse in the cartoons?”

 

“Exactly,” Geri confirmed.

 

“Oh, come on,” Cindy shrieked.  “I mean, really … your real names!”

 

“Geri is my real name,” Geri confirmed.  “Geri Galbraith.”

 

“And my name's actually Laura Albright,” Tom confessed.  “So, you'd think Laurie and Geri, right?  Sounds great, but when the guys get drunk, they kind of run Laurie and Geri together, and we both get stuck with Larry.  That doesn't work, so we opted for Tom and Geri.  No muss, no fuss.”

 

“Works for me,” Melanie declared.  “What about you, Tip?  Can they get by with Tom and Jerry?”

 

“Tip is our resident savant,” Cindy explained.  She liked the way 'savant' rolled off her tongue.  It was the sort of sophisticated word that one expected a premed student to use.

 

Pretending to be deep in thought, Tip nodded her head.  “I don't see a problem here,” she said as she rendered her verdict.  In truth, Tip was waiting patiently for a diaper change.  She had been pissing like a racehorse, and was pretty sure that she would leak all over the furniture if she was daring enough to sit down.

 

“What year are you guys in, and what are your majors?”  Linda Strickland was waiting for Wendy to finish with Kimberly, and then it would be her turn.

 

“Sophomores … and neither of us is a Legacy.  I'm double majoring in International Relations and Journalism.”  Tom was ambitious, and aimed to become the next Barbara Walters.

 

“I'm majoring in chemistry,” Geri revealed.  She was a farsighted nerd, who couldn't find her glasses unless she was wearing them.  On the plus side, she was a natural blonde, had great teeth, and wore a D cup.  She could definitely give Kimberly Doyle a run for her money.

 

“Chemistry?  Hallelujah!”  Cindy couldn't believe their luck.  “Our GPA is in the tank, and we're desperate for someone to bail us out in chemistry and calculus!  Please … please … please … tell me that you're on the Dean's Honors list!”

 

“I have a three point nine five GPA,” Geri reluctantly admitted, “and Tom has a three point eight.”  Geri had yet to scalp her first faculty member, and she knew it was because she was a total klutz.  She expected to die with her virginity intact.  She just hoped that she wouldn't blow up the chemistry lab in the process.

 

“A three nine five!”  Cindy was on her feet, dancing in excited circles.  “A three nine five!”

 

“God has answered our prayers,” Melanie screamed.  “Can you take all our exams for us?  Write our term papers?  We'll give you anything you want!  Anything!  Money … boyfriends … anything!!!”

 

“You can even change my diaper,” Joyce whispered seductively and she slithered up to invade Geri's personal space.  “I promise to make it worth your while … really, really worth your while.”

 

Geri waved her hand in front of her face, and stepped back.  She didn't want to have anything to do with Joyce Wiggins' messy diaper.

 

“Missus Miller,” Cindy yelled; “Missus Miller, we need you-- and I mean right now!”

 

“Not now, Cindy,” Bernice yelled through the door, which had been left ajar.  “I'm changing Abigail, and right now I'm knee deep in poop!  Give me a minute!”

 

“Missus Miller, this can't wait!  “We've got two refugees from PAL, and one of them is a three nine five in chemistry!”

 

“A three nine five?  I'll be right there!”  Leaving Abby temporarily to her own devices, Bernice hastily wiped her hands with a wet washcloth, and rushed out of the room.  She would have to send Gerdie Muller a five pound box of chocolates for Christmas; catching a chemistry major with a three nine five was on par with robbing Fort Knox!

 

.  .  .  .

 

“All right, Janis, let me check your diaper.  Have you pooped yet?”

 

“No, Sylvie … nothing … it seems like nothing's anywhere near ready to come out.  I don't understand … I mean, it's not like I'm ever constipated, and I'm definitely due!”

 

“You're just tense because you're wearing a diaper,” Sylvia judged.  “I think we should administer a suppository.  Hold it for twenty minutes, and then let fly.  Once your brain understands that messing your diaper isn't the end of the world, the anxiety will begin to fade, and pooping in your diaper will get easier and easier.”

 

“Can you change me first?  I'm soaked, Sylvie, and if it wasn't for the cover, the diaper would be drooping down to my knees!”

 

“Sorry, but we want to maximize the life of this diaper.  Ideally, you should be close to drowning in your pee, and then poop.  This will cut down on your diaper changes, and over time save you or your parents a lot of money.”

 

“But I'm so miserable, Sylvie; I just want to die!”

 

“Careful, Janis,” Sylvia warned.  “One more comment like that and I'm taking you up to Seven for a seventy-two hour hold in the Psych ward.  Do you know what that would mean, Janis?  We're talking the secure wing, a crib and full restraints.  If that's what you want, just keep whining.  Now, what about the suppository?”

 

“I suppose so,” Janis sniffled.  “I mean, I'm really desperate to go!”

 

“Okay, we'll use Exam Room C.  You get your clothes off, including your bra, while I gather what we need.  If you're shy, just put on a hospital gown.  You know the drill.”

 

“Thanks, Sylvie; you're a lifesaver!”

 

Janis waddled down the hall to the examination room, and had just finished undressing when Sylvia returned with a pill tray.  Janis could see at a glance that it held two of the dreaded white bullets.  It looked like Sylvie was going to make her baptism under fire a memorable one.

 

“I thought it best to give you two suppositories and really clean you out,” Sylvia explained.  “But it's vital that you keep everything inside for at least twenty minutes.  Do you want me to insert a tampon as a makeshift plug … just to make sure?”

 

“No … no … I think I can hold it,” Janis nervously replied.

 

“Okay.  Lean up against the exam table, facing me.  We'll lower your cover and vinyl pants to your ankles.”

 

“Janis, you're nicely wet,” Sylvia declared when she accessed the girl's diaper.  “But you are still not in danger of leaking because this diaper is really doing its job.  It's wicking your pee just the way it's supposed to.  Here, feel around the top at the back.  Feel how dry it is?  You could take a nap in this diaper, wet some more, and still be okay.”

 

“Now, turn around and bend over the table,” she instructed.

 

When Janis complied, Sylvia loosened her diaper, deftly inserted the two suppositories, and pinned the diaper back firmly in place.

 

Janis hissed as she felt the suppositories slide home.

 

“Okay.  Stand upright, and turn around to face me.”

 

Janis did as instructed, and Sylvia pulled the vinyl pants up the girl's legs.  But she paused before pulling them over the diaper.

 

“Run your hand inside your baby pants, Janis.  I want you to feel for yourself that the pant is dry.  You aren't leaking … not even close.  Without the suppositories, I wouldn't bother changing you; I'd wait until your shift ends at six.”

 

“But if feels like I'm so wet!”

 

“You'll get used to it.  After you poop and I get you cleaned up, we'll do a session on proper skin care.  A diaper rash isn't the end of the world, but it is uncomfortable, and it is avoidable.  Just wait … in no time at all, you're going to be a diaper pro!  Now, scoot up on the table and stretch out on your back.”

 

Sylvia nodded at the clock, which was on the wall directly opposite the foot of the exam table.  “Keep an eye on the time.” she instructed.  “In twenty minutes, I want you to roll over onto your left side, bend your right knee, and bring it up as high as you can.  Once you're in position, the floodgates will open.  I'll be back in half an hour to look in on you.”

 

Sylvia stood over her charge, smiled maternally, and gently ran her fingers through Jannie's hair.  She thought that, even at nineteen, the girl would make an adorable baby.

 

.  .  .  .

 

“Welcome to ZAP!”  Bernice reached out to shake hands with Tom and Geri.  “Your house mom tells me that the two of you have been having a rough time of it at PAL.  That won't be the case here.  For obvious reasons, no one in this house is going to shame or tease someone for wearing diapers.”

 

“Thank you, Missus Miller.  We're really happy to be here.  All we want is to live in a house where we fit in.”  Geri looked at Tom, who was nodding her head in agreement.

 

“Okay,” Bernice smiled.  “Breakfast, lunch and dinner at the usual hours.  Snacks at ten.  If you have any food allergies or other dietary restrictions that we need to know about, shoot me a note before you retire.  Do you want to move in today?”

 

“Can't wait,” Tom exclaimed.  “We'll go back to the house, pack, and be here in time for dinner!”

 

“Terrific!  We can do a bit of juggling if you want to go on rooming together, but it would probably be best for you to split up and pair off with a couple of our Juniors.  They can show you the ropes, and in return you can help the girls get their grades up.  We desperately need someone to organize tutorials in calculus and chemistry.”

 

“That would be me,” Geri volunteered.  “And all I want in return is a complete makeover!  I want to scalp somebody!”

 

“You're on!” Cindy couldn't believe their luck.  “We'll hit the Galleria on Saturday morning, ditch the glasses for contacts ...”

 

Cindy gave Geri's hair the once over.  “Yeah … yeah, I know a beautician who can do wonders with your hair.  I'll have you beating the boys off with sticks in no time!”

 

“Need help with International Relations,” Tom asked hopefully.

 

“We need help with everything,” Melanie yelled from the other side of the room.  “Our GPA is in the toilet!”

 

“Where's the pizza,” Kimberly yelled as she came down the stairs.  “Lindy, you're next!”

 

“Oh, wow!  Kimberly Doyle!  You're famous!”  Geri was tempted to ask for her autograph, but she didn't want Kimberly to write her off as just another high school nerd.                   

 

“You the new blood,” Kimberly demanded. 

 

“Refugees from PAL,” Tom answered; “and we come bearing gifts.  We're both on the Dean's honor roll, and we're going to make your problems in calculus and chemistry go away!”

 

“Hey, are you a D cup?”  Kimberly was giving Geri's chest the once over.

 

“For real,” Geri proudly replied.  She loved her boobs, and reckoned that sooner or later she'd hook up with a tit guy and finally get laid.

 

“Me, too!  We've gotta compare bras, and then we're going shopping.  My boyfriend worships my titties!”

 

“You mean someplace like this new Victoria's Secret that everyone's raving about?  I want to show off my wares!”

 

“Girl, have I got the place for you!  It's a sex shop up in the northern suburbs, and it just so happens that the girl who runs it is a friend of mine.  Don't worry!  We'll ditch the glasses, do something with your hair, and Jessica will take it from there.  Slutty underwear is just the beginning!”

 

“Do you change your own diapers,” Bernice interrupted.

 

“We change each other,” Tom said.  “It's a lot easier to get creams and powder into all the nooks and crannies than trying to do it for yourself.”

 

“Fantastic!”  Bernice was literally beaming.  “Could I put you to work before you go collect your stuff?  It's Wendy and I against The Top Forty, and we're falling behind!  We need help!”

 

“Um … sure,” Geri stuttered.  She was looking at Joyce Wiggins, wondering if she would pass out if she had to open her new sister's diaper.

 

Bernice nodded sagely.  “Let me get back to Abby, and then I'll see to Joyce.  Tippi?”

 

Bernice looked around until she spotted her favorite beanpole.  “Take Tom and Geri up to your room.  We'll use your beds as makeshift changing tables.  Wait one while I get the key to your cover … and I need three more volunteers!  Who wants Tom and Geri to change their diapers?”

 

“Me, me, me!” Melanie was jumping up and down, eager to shed her soaking wet diaper for a clean, dry one. 

 

Hands went up all over the room.  Bernice nodded, and rushed off to grab some keys.

 

“PIZZA,” Cindy screamed when the doorbell rang again. 

 

She rushed (well, waddled) into the entryway, and eagerly yanked the door open.

 

A lone girl with long, light brown hair falling from a stylish beret was standing there.

 

“WHERE'S THE PIZZA?”

 

“Uh … hi.  I'm Cathy … Cathy Erickson?”

 

“No pizza?”  Cindy was crestfallen.

 

“No pizza,” Cathy agreed.  “I've been more or less banished from LIP; you guys are supposed to take me in.”

 

“A bed wetter?”

 

“Uh huh.”  Cathy was staring at Cindy's midsection, the canvas diaper cover and its locking device within hand's reach. 

 

She was sorely tempted.

 

“What's your major?”

 

“Biology … I'm a premed.”

 

“Hallelujah,” Cindy screamed.  “Welcome!  Get your butt inside so that I can close up before all the heat escapes!”

 

“We're all in the dining room, waiting to get our diapers changed.  What's your GPA?”

 

“Uh … three seven?”

 

“Hallelujah,” she screamed again as they entered the dining hall.  “THREE SEVEN … BIOLOGY!”

 

A roar went up from every corner of the room.

 

.  .  .  .

 

Twelve minutes after the suppositories had been inserted, Janis felt a faint rumbling in her bowels.  If it had been an earthquake, the tremor would have not even registered as a one on the Richter Scale.

 

Five minutes later found Janis staring at the clock, gritting her teeth, and starting to sweat.  Her insides were churning, an earth shattering six capable of toppling mighty office towers as easily as the swish of Godzilla's tail.

 

Janis was clinching her buttocks and gripping her canvas diaper cover with both hands, holding on for dear life.  She desperately needed to pee, but she knew that if she relaxed and let it flow, the floodgates would open and her bowels prematurely erupt.  Then Sylvie would probably make her do the whole thing all over again.

 

I CAN DO THIS, her brain was screaming as the second hand crawled around the dial.

 

TWO MORE MINUTES!!

 

Staring at the clock, she knew that she must be hallucinating: the damned second hand was going backwards!!

 

HOLD ON!!

 

JUST HOLD ON!!!!!

 

ONE MORE MINUTE!!!!!!!!!!!

 

YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Janis triumphantly rolled over onto her left side, and pulled her bent right knee towards her chest.  She could feel warm pee gushing out of her …

 

And her bowels exploded, mushy poop flowing like water through a shattered dam, going everywhere that her diaper would permit-- and places that it would not.  First her baby pants gave up the fight, and then it was her cover that yielded to the inevitable.  Watery poop was going everywhere, threatening to inundate the whole fourth floor.

 

“Sylvie,” she screamed … “SYLVIE!!!!!!!”

 

But there was no answer.

 

The hallway was eerily quiet, no one responding to her screams.  Had they evacuated the hospital, but left her behind?

 

“SYLVIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

The smell was overwhelming, and the poop was everywhere.  She could feel it attacking her breast and curling her toes.  It was only a matter of time-- mere seconds, really-- and she would be drowning in her own shit. 

 

“Oh my,” Sylvia exclaimed as she paused in the doorway to survey the damage.  “Wow!  Janis, I swear … I swear to God that you have just set a new hospital record!  In all the years that I've worked here, all the suppositories that I've administered and all the poopy beds that I've stripped … this tops the lot.  Congratulations, and well done!”

 

“Thanks, Sylvie,” Janis sniffled.  “And I do feel better.  But I stink!”

 

“Yes, you most certainly do.  Now, tell me: is it the end of the world, or do you think you'll live to fight another day?”

 

“Not sure … don't know what's gonna happen when I stand up.”

 

“Well, let's find out.  I'm going to spread a bed sheet on the floor.  I want you to hop off the table and stand on it.  Let's see what happens.”

 

Janis gingerly rolled over onto her back, and then struggled to sit up.  She could feel pee and poop sloshing around inside her diaper, but to her surprise she discovered that she wasn't going to faint.

 

“I can do this,” she yelped as she used her arms to lift her body off the table and drop to the floor.

 

“Made it,” she cried.

 

“You did,” Sylvia agreed.  She reached out to start pulling wet wipes out of a canister on the wall.  “Now, let's start cleaning you up … from top to bottom!”

 

“Need any help?”  Marcia Mason was standing in the corridor, fervently hoping that Sylvia had everything under control.

 

“We'll manage, but this is just damage control.  I'm going to walk Lady Godiva here down the hallway and use the staff shower to give her a proper cleaning.  A little privacy would be appreciated, as well as a new diaper, vinyl pants and cover-- plus the four keys.  Jannie, what size pants do you take?”

 

“Large … at least, that's what I need to cover these hospital diapers.”

 

“And it's all we have, I'm afraid.”  Sylvia finished wiping Janis' torso, one wipe after another disappearing into the waste bin.  Then she got to work on her legs.

 

“I'm not going to unlock you until we're in the shower,” she declared.  “And standing over the drain.”

 

After she cleaned Janis' feet, Sylvia grabbed a pair of disposable slippers from a cabinet, and Janis was ready.

 

“We're good here,” Sylvia yelled down the corridor.

 

“The coast is clear,” Marcia yelled back.

 

“Do you want a hospital gown, Jannie?  Just in case?”  Sylvia knew that Janis was very shy.

 

“No.”  Janis emphatically shook her head.  “It would be just one more thing to wash.  I trust Marcia; let's do this!”

 

“Off we go, then!”

 

Cautiously, putting one hesitant foot in front of the other, Janis bravely set off down the corridor.  The contents of her diaper shifted with every step, a slow motion tidal wave that somehow had stopped leaking.  At journey's end, when they reached the staff dressing room, the corridor behind her was dry.

 

“Feel better about your diaper,” Sylvia asked.  She was also surveying the corridor.

 

“Yeah, I do … and Sylvie?  I'm sorry that I gave you such a bad time earlier.  Thanks for being patient with me.  This is all … it just takes getting used to.”

 

“I know … and now you know what it was like for your new Dad, waking up in that hospital in Japan, learning that he would be diaper bound for the rest of his days.”

 

“My Dad!  Sylvie, he and Doctor Stevenson … they're supposed to ...”

 

“They already have,” Sylvia soothed.  “I saw Rita in the cafeteria a few minutes ago.  She came down to find Priscilla, and to send her upstairs.  Jannie, she was covered in vomit; I cleaned her up as best I could, and then she ran off to track Sarah down.  It was a difficult session, but they got through it.”

 

“I should be there,” Janis cried.  “Sylvie, in the conference room … they were all so mean to him, and I got mad and told them off!  And he … he got down on his knees and reached out for me, trying to calm me down.  And he asked me … he said, if I fall, will you and Priscilla be there to pick me up?  And I said yes, for both of us.  And I meant it!  Sylvie, I'm supposed to be there!”

 

“And you will be, so hush.  Okay?”

 

Sylvia touched a tear that was falling down Janis' cheek.  “Let's get you cleaned up, and get you dressed.  Then I just need a couple of minutes to walk you through skin care, and I'll take you up to Seven myself.  I want you to stay with him, and when he's ready to leave, I want you to go with him.  Okay?”

 

“Back to the house, you mean?”

 

“Is it just a house, Janis, or is it your home?”

 

“Home.”  There was no hesitation, no doubt in Janis' response.  “My sisters,” she murmured, “the family I chose.”  It was all so clear in her mind.

 

“Do you love your parents, Janis?”

 

“Yes!  And I don't understand any of this!  It's like … it's like he's my father, only I have a real father and … and, a real mother!  WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?”

 

“Nothing.”  Sylvia reached out to hug Janis close.  “You've left home, only now you are discovering that you still need a parent.  And you've chosen Ian.  Do you understand, Jannie?  In exactly the same way that you've adopted your sisters, you've also adopted a new father.  The father and mother who raised you have done their job, and sent you out into the world.  But the journey from adolescence to adulthood is fraught with peril, and most of us need help making that journey.  We choose new parents to help us complete what our birth parents started.”

 

“So I'm not weird?”

 

“No.  In time, you and Ian will settle into an uncle and niece relationship.  But unlike the rest of us, you have been chosen for a very special task.  He needs you, Janis; he needs you to be his daughter, and he needs this in the worst possible way.  And you know why. 

The only question is: can you do it?”

 

“I can, and I will.”  There was absolute certitude in Janis' voice.

 

“Then let's get you cleaned up, and get you upstairs.”

     

 

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