After you've finished reading, you might want to return to the DailyDiapers Story Index

 

AN HOMAGE TO VINCENT VEGA

 

SCENE 38:

 

LULLABY DIAPER SERVICE

 

One glance was all it took for Ian to realize that he was in deep trouble.  It was one of those 'if looks could kill' moments, which reminded him yet again that Sarah did not appreciate his admittedly warped sense of humor.  Still, he could not help but wonder whether Priscilla would intervene if his fiancee went ballistic in her own office; if it came to it, he was pretty sure that Pris could flatten her with one punch.

 

Ian rushed through the introductions, the pain in his lower back and the fire in his right hip urging him to find a place to sit down before he fell down.  Vickie had already excused herself and rushed off in search of a phone.  He had absolutely no idea what she would say to Amos, but Vickie being Vickie, he was pretty sure that Amos would be charging through the door in a matter of moments. 

 

If she made a second call, it would be downstairs to the neurology department.

 

The journey through the hospital corridors had not gone well.  He had staggered three times, once bouncing lightly off the wall when the foot drop threatened to put him on the floor.  Priscilla had rushed to his side, putting her arm around his shoulders to steady him.  He made a joke about laying off the booze at lunchtime, but it was halfhearted and the concerned look on her face had not changed.  Then Vickie had pointedly asked him to measure the pain in his lower back.  He had told her the truth, and she had sworn under her breath before promising to arrange a neurological exam ASAP.  She would, he knew, bend heaven and earth to get him in as early as the following afternoon.

 

Visibly struggling, Ian finally managed to sit down, Priscilla hovering just out of his line of sight.  He tried to pay attention as Marilyn laid out her game plan, but he already knew the basics and his attention wandered.  Sarah would either turn thumbs up, or she would turn thumbs down.  He was content to leave such matters in her capable hands.

 

.  .  .  .

 

When Ian and his friends walked into her office, Sarah treated him to her own version of “the Marge look,” and the way that he flinched made it clear that she had scored a palpable hit.  In contrast, she offered the middle aged, well dressed businesswoman a welcoming smile.  She posed no threat, in marked contrast to the obviously fit young policewoman who was hovering at Ian's side.  There was no professional detachment in her eyes as she stared at her charge, her feelings for Sarah's fiance written all over her face.

 

How does he charm so many women, so quickly?  How?  Does he want to sleep with her as well?

 

Mentally shrugging in the face of a puzzle for which she had no answer, Sarah forced herself to focus on the headhunter sitting in front of her.  If the lady had Amy's endorsement, the time that it would take to listen to her pitch would definitely be well spent.  Department secretaries, and especially the ones who worked directly with the Chair, were notoriously well informed about the ins and outs of campus life.

 

As it turned out, Sarah liked what she was hearing.  Outside offers would create a retention issue that Ian's department chair could use to get him a sizable bump in pay.  Doctors played this game all the time, whether young up and comers or seasoned professionals with substantial outside grants that the hospital was reluctant to lose.  It was a pity, she thought, that Vickie had rushed off rather than sticking around to hear the pitch.

 

Thinking of Vickie brought a smile to Sarah's lips.  She was still wearing her heavy winter coat as she charged out the door, doubtless in an effort to conceal her bulky diaper. However, Sarah suspected that such unusual behavior would only draw the attention that Vickie sought to avoid.  It was only a matter of time, she concluded, before Vickie's diapers became common hospital knowledge.

 

And perhaps I can speed things up by not being at my desk tomorrow morning, when she shows up all wet and poopy.  If she runs off and begs Rita for help, that will stir the pot nicely.  As for Rita …

 

.  .  .  .

 

On a Tuesday afternoon in the dead time between Thanksgiving and Christmas, the ER was predictably quiet, and for all intents and purposes Amos Waring was just standing around twiddling his thumbs.  Vickie's call was put through to the orderlies' desk and, pausing only long enough to bring Andrew up to speed, Amos rushed off.  If the Major needed help, he would provide it.

 

Reaching three, he headed directly to Sarah's office.  Some kind of conference was in progress, Sarah consulting with a stylishly dressed middle aged lady, and Ian sitting off to the side, listening in.  He wondered whether this was one of the headhunters that Rita had briefly mentioned over lunch the day before, trying to make conversation to get him out of his funk.  If that was the case, Amos knew that the lady must have passed some kind of preliminary inspection to get this far.

 

What stopped him dead in his tracks was the female police officer at Ian's side.  Young, good looking and physically fit, his first thought was that the lady cop would be good to have on his side in a barroom brawl.  She looked like she could throw a mean punch.

 

A moment later, Vickie returned with a wheelchair.

 

.  .  .  .

 

Ian noted Amos' arrival out of the corner of his eye, and he tried to stand and greet his fellow veteran.  But Priscilla put her hands on both of his shoulders, and firmly pushed him back into his seat.  A moment later, Vickie returned with a wheelchair.

 

“Priscilla, this is Amos Waring, one of our best orderlies and a good friend.  Amos, this is Officer Priscilla Canon, campus police, currently detailed to escort Ian around campus and make sure that the headhunters mind their manners.  Word to the wise, Amos: don't call her Prissy.  And Pris, your father can probably tell you everything worth knowing about Amos-- he's a legend in the Third Precinct.”

 

“Lake Street brawler,” Priscilla asked as she inspected the orderly.  He was roughly her age, and built like a brick shithouse.  She reckoned that he would be a good guy to have at her side when dealing with a disorderly in her favorite bar up Northeast.

 

“The Third's got a holding cell with my name on it,” Amos proudly confessed.  “Busted a few heads … broke a few pinball machines … nothing too dramatic.”

 

“My kind of guy,” Priscilla grinned, “although my taste runs to pool cues.  Busted a few of them over the odd skull in my day as well.  Anyone who calls me Prissy is going down for the count!”

 

“So noted,” Amos grinned.  He liked the lady cop.

 

“Vic, what the hell is going on here?”  Sarah was on her feet, nostrils flaring.  She was beginning to feel like a fifth wheel in her own office.

 

“Not now, Sarah.”  Vickie dismissed her with a wave of her hand.  “Amos … Pris … get him into the wheelchair.  Get him down to X ray, Amos; I've already alerted them.  Pris, go with them; you can answer any questions the techs might have.  I'll phone the diaper service and let your mom know that we've been delayed.”

 

“Vix,” Ian protested, “this isn't necessary.  I've had these episodes before, and I'm sure as hell going to have them again!”

 

“Enough, Ian!  God damn it, what is the matter with you?  You would have gone down in the corridor if Pris hadn't caught you!”

 

“WHAT,” Sarah yelled, alarm breaking through her anger, fear for Ian coursing through her veins.

 

Vickie ignored her and Marilyn alike, the latter still sitting in her chair but openly gawking at the drama unfolding around her.

 

“For God's sake, you've got a bullet lodged in your lower spine!  What the hell do you think is going to happen if you take a hard fall?”

 

“Vix, I ...”

 

“No, Ian; this stops now.  I'm your doctor, you are in my hospital, and you are going to do exactly what I tell you.  Right now, you are going to get in that wheelchair and smile nicely when you get to the X ray department.  You are going to do exactly what the techs ask you to do ...”

 

Vickie looked at Amos.  “I'll be in Neurology; I'll catch up with you after I've brought them into the picture.  They may want to run other tests.”  Without another word, Vickie turned and dashed out of Sarah's office.

 

While Priscilla and Amos helped a thoroughly chastened Ian Grady climb into the wheelchair, Sarah calmed down enough to apologize to Marilyn.  She indicated that her proposal had Sarah's blessing, and that she wanted to reconnect once things calmed down.  The two women exchanged business cards, each adding her home telephone number for the other's benefit.  They went down the elevator together, Marilyn heading for the parking ramp and Sarah for the X ray department.

 

.  .  .  .

 

“We have a problem here,” the tech indicated.  Working together, Amos and Priscilla had wheeled Ian into the X ray department, and helped him to undress.  He was now leaning against the edge of the table, wearing nothing but his diaper, vinyl pants and diaper cover.

 

“These diaper covers have metal thread running through them,” the tech explained.  “And then there are the diaper pins.  We need to remove his diapers, and supply him with a regular hospital gown.  Do either of you have the key?”

 

“I do,” Priscilla and Sarah answered simultaneously.  Sarah had arrived mere seconds earlier.  It was Sarah who did the honors, unlocking and removing his canvas diaper cover and baby pants in one smooth gesture.  She unpinned his diaper and carefully lowered it; everyone was relieved to see that the garment was wet but unsoiled.  The tech handed Sarah a gown, and she threaded Ian's arms through it and tied it off in the rear.  With Amos' help, Sarah eased Ian onto the table.

 

“Would the two of you care to wait outside,” she asked politely.  Sarah planned to observe the procedure and give the results a wet reading.

 

Priscilla and Amos retired to a bench opposite the X ray chamber, and settled in for a chat.  He wanted to know if she had really busted a pool cue over some guy's head, and she described how she had recently floored a pissant with one punch to the jaw. In turn, Amos described his wrestling match with a Komodo dragon, enthralled her with tales from the stockade, and sheepishly admitted to being on a first name basis with just about every cop in the Third Precinct.  Taking a deep breath and summoning up every ounce of his courage, Amos finally asked Pris whether she would like to have dinner sometime.

 

The light was dancing in Priscilla's eyes when she replied that she would like that very much.

 

Lying on the X ray table Ian couldn't move, but he was smiling nonetheless.  His pain was real, but he was pleased because Vickie had made such brilliant use of it.  With Sarah's unwitting assistance, they had given Amos and Priscilla a chance to become acquainted.  Simultaneously, however, his near collapse in a hospital corridor opened the door to a long overdue neurological workup … opened it wide.  It had been seven years since his last go round, and now he was going to find out whether his condition was stable or degenerative.

 

.  .  .  .

 

Vickie left Neurology with marching orders firmly in hand.  The first order of business was to get the army to cough up Ian's medical records, and as his physician of record, that was her job, and hers alone.  Ian was beginning to exhibits symptoms of paraplegia independent of his incontinence, but neither Radiology nor Neurology could measure the progression of his symptoms without a baseline.  Even as she made the short walk to the X ray department, therefore, Vickie was mapping out the request that she was going to lay on Glenn Albright's desk out at the VA.  In recent years, for reasons unknown, the military had begun to slow walk requests of this nature, and they weren't above denying them altogether.  Vickie was confident, however, that the tape Ian had pieced together would compel the administrator to play ball.  A casual dinner with her friend the patent attorney might give her still more ammunition.

 

Walking into the X ray department, Vickie quietly took a seat on the opposite end of the room from Amos and Priscilla, who were knee deep in conversation.  It looked like things were going very well on that front.  Thinking about Mark Chambrey, who was a partner in one of the state's more high powered law firms, brought a smile to Vickie's lips.  Mark was a family man, and his marriage was reasonably happy, but he had a sexual appetite that his wife alone could not satisfy.  Their affair had been necessarily discreet, and it had ended amicably.  Vickie knew that Sarah would demand that she be well diapered and under lock and key when she rendezvoused with Mark, but it didn't matter because theirs had never been a conventional affair.  She had spanked his bottom beet red many a time, and then soothed the pain with skillful applications of her very knowledgeable tongue.  If Ian's tape was worth the effort, Mark would wrap it up in the required fine print and secure his rights to ownership in perpetuity.

 

.  .  .  .

 

With Sarah's assistance, Ian repeatedly shifted positions, permitting the radiographer to film his lower spine from a variety of angles.  When they were finished, she untied the hospital gown and smoothly pinned his diaper back in place.  After helping him to his feet, Ian stepped into his baby pants and diaper cover.  One by one, Sarah pulled them up, taking care to see that none of the cloth was peeking out around his waist or thighs.  When she was satisfied, she closed the lock, once more securing her fiance in his de facto chastity belt.

 

Gently, Sarah guided Ian to the wheelchair.  The fire in his right hip had taken all the fight out of him, and he sat without protest.  Sarah wheeled him out to the waiting room,  caught Vickie's eye, and left Ian in Priscilla and Amos' care.  Together, Sarah and Vickie retired to get their first look at the film; still dripping wet, the technician had hung the images in front of fluoroscopic screens.

 

Silently, they studied the various images with care.

 

“We won't know for sure until we can compare this with his military records,” Vickie finally suggested, “but I see no lesions here … no evidence of migration.”

 

“I agree; it doesn't look like the fragment has moved.”  Sarah sadly shook her head.  “But the scar tissue ...”

 

“My guess is that it's pressuring the spinal cord.”  Vickie completed Sarah's thought.

 

“Pain meds,” Sarah concurred; “maybe corticosteroid injections.  But the surgeons in Japan and Hawaii were right; an extraction would be incredibly dangerous.”

 

“A good sawbones might be able to remove enough tissue to relieve the anterior pressure, but it would be a temporary fix at best.  You're right, Stretch; it's gotta be band aids and bubble gum.”

 

“We're done here,” Sarah said as she nodded in agreement.  “Look, I've got to get back to work.  Have Amos help get him into the car, and if they're still open, head out to the diaper service.  He needs a cane; I'll bring one home with me.”

 

“He has canes; there's one hanging on the coat rack in his office.  But he's too proud, or too stubborn, to use it.”

 

“Typical,” Sarah muttered, “all that stupid male pride.  Well, I'm going to spank it out of him.  I've had it with his bullshit.”

 

“Got more bad news for you.”

 

Sarah rolled her eyes.

 

“Priscilla's mother needs Ian's help.  She's a private eye, and the diaper service has hired her to deal with a gang of diaper thieves.  It looks like Ian won't be canceling his service after all.  They want to use his order as bait.”

 

“That's insane!  Who in their right mind would steal diapers?”

 

Vickie grinned.  “With Ian's help, I'm reasonably certain that we shall soon find out!  Now, lead me to a phone, and I'll let the service know that we're on our way.”

 

.  .  .  .

 

Sitting in the wheelchair, waiting for Vickie to bring her car around to the main entrance, Ian tried to imagine the rumors that must already be making their way around the building.  Having a policewoman at his side as Amos wheeled him through the corridors was the crowning touch.  He had seen enough faces that he vaguely recognized from the cafeteria to know that Amos was going to be on the receiving end of some awkward questions.

 

“Hey, Amos, if anybody wants to know what's going on, just tell 'em that your friend the Major is prone to foot drop, and would have crashed and burned were it not for the heroic intervention of Officer Canon here, who somehow managed to keep me upright.  Oh, and you might add that the university has assigned her to shadow me everywhere I go to keep all those nasty headhunters at bay.  That should do the trick.”

 

“Thanks, Major,” Amos grinned.  “For an officer, you catch on quick.  This place runs on rumors, and you wouldn't believe the ones that are going around as we speak!”

 

“Do I want to know?”

 

“Probably not.”

 

“Okay, well, if I can manage to slip away from my keepers, what do you say?  One of these nights, should the three of us go out and get drunk somewhere?”

 

“Been wanting to do that since we first met,” Amos said with a grin.

 

“How about you, Pris?  Ready to tie one on?”

 

“Only in a bar of my choice.  Rough translation?  A joint where I can use the manager's office to change your diaper.  Up Northeast, drinking is an athletic event.  If you can't drink your weight, you don't get to play.”

 

“Are we talking ounces?”  Amos was in heaven.

 

“We are.”

 

“Hell, I can drink that much beer in less than ten minutes.  Got any decent pinball machines?”

 

“We do … and who said anything about beer?”  Both men heard the challenge in her voice.

 

“You're on, but I'll want a Lake Street rematch.  I'll get some off-duty guys from the Third to back you up.  And you'll like them, Major; as MP's go, they're a decent bunch.”

 

“Hong Kong rules?”  Ian liked to get drunk, but he did have standards.  One of them was never walking out of a bar with money in your pocket.

 

“Hong Kong rules?”  Amos roared with laughter.  “In Minnesota?  In the dead of winter?Major, in case you haven't noticed, this ain't the Tropics!”

 

“All right, you two, give,” Priscilla glowered.  “What the hell are Hong Kong rules?”

 

“You drink until you run out of money,” Amos crowed.  “Then you stagger out the door, find a convenient curb, sit down, and pass out.  The MP's peel you off the pavement and haul you off to the stockade, where a nice, warm bunk awaits!  It's R and R at its best!”

 

“I'm guarding a lunatic,” Priscilla sighed, “but you're both nuts.  Let's assume for the moment that hypothermia doesn't kill you.  How are we going to get Ian's soaking wet diaper off when it freezes?  With a blowtorch?”

 

“We'll think of something,” Amos laughed again.  “We always do!”

 

Driving up to the curb, Vickie saw the unlikely trio waiting just inside the glass walled entryway.  Amos was laughing his head off, and Ian and Priscilla had huge grins on their faces.  She just prayed that Amos had had the good sense to ask Priscilla out on a date, and that she had been smart enough to accept.

 

.  .  .  .

 

“So, do one of you want to tell me what's going on?”  Vickie was making good time on city streets, her destination about ten miles out in the northwestern suburbs.

 

“We're plotting a jailbreak.”  To Vickie's surprise, it was Priscilla who smugly replied.

 

“And who's going over the wall,” she asked as she glanced Priscilla's way in the rear view mirror.

 

“Ian, of course.  A night free of bottles and breast milk, a night full of hard liquor and good friendship.  The three of us are going to get smashed-- of course, you're welcome to join us. The four of us could team up and challenge the reigning champions in my dad's favorite bar.”

 

“I'm game,” Vickie laughed, “but there's no way Sarah would approve, and I'm not even sure Rita would.”

 

“So, we don't tell them … we just do it.”

 

“Curious.  I get the impression that treating Ian like a baby really turns you on.”

 

“Oh, it does … it most certainly does.  But I like to keep things balanced.  Little baby Ian fills a hole in my psyche that I didn't even know was there.  But I really, really like Professor Grady, and Professor Grady wants us to go out and get drunk.  His sense of humor is warped enough when he's sober; I wanna find out what's he like when he's one shot away from puking his guts up.”

 

“Been there and almost done that,” Vickie laughed, thinking back to the Saturday night at Rita's when the two of them first met.  “But there's a hurdle that I don't think I can overcome,” she confessed.

 

“Go on, Priscilla urged.

 

“Underneath this coat?  I'm as heavily diapered as Ian is, and wearing the same rig.  You have the key to Ian's diaper cover, but Sarah has all the keys to mine.  She wants us both to be chaste and sober, so she doesn't leave us alone unless we're both locked up.  Sarah and I hammered this agreement out in private, and oddly enough, I'm good with it.  When I make love with this guy for the first time, I want it to be a night filled with moonlit kisses, fireworks exploding across the sky.  No more sneaking around, no more quickies in the back seat of the car.”

 

Vickie reached over to pat Ian lovingly on the thigh.  He was shaking his head and laughing softly, knowing exactly what Priscilla would say next.

 

“Funny you should say that,” Priscilla observed.  “Yesterday, I asked him what would have happened if you had unlocked him for a quickie in the back seat before driving over to campus.  He said that he would have passed.  He's waiting for sunshine, lollipops and rainbows.  The two of you are peas in a pod.”

 

“So, anyway, you see the problem,” Vickie said, returning to the problem at hand.

 

“Well, she hasn't muzzled either of you, so just bring extra clothing.  The stools can take the punishment, but if you insist, we'll put towels underneath you.  Just keep in mind that this is a cop bar, and my dad's buddies have seen it all.  Heck, they'll probably bet on which of you leaks first!”

 

“I'd like to see which of them leaks first.”  Ian was joining the conversation for the first time.

 

“Meaning?”  Priscilla was intrigued to learn where Ian was going with this.

 

“We let everybody take a leak, and then we padlock the johns.  Then we drink, and whoever pisses him or herself first buys the next round, and so forth.  To make it fair, we bring lots of diapers and pins from the hospital, and hand them out to anyone who wants them.  Odds are that whoever ends up buying the first round will have been too proud to wear a diaper, giving new meaning to the parable that Pride Goeth Before the Fall.”

 

“Oh, you wicked, wicked man, you … I like it!”  Priscilla didn't know whether any of her dad's friends would be game, but either way, roll call the next morning would be a hoot!

 

“Thursday works for me,” Ian offered.  “I'm coming over for a heart to heart with Rita, and Sarah's working late, so Vic and I should be able to update The Great Escape.”

 

“I'll call Amos, and see if he can get someone to cover his shift,” Priscilla nodded.  “He's promised me dinner, and the joint puts out a mean Juicy Lucy and house cut steak fries.” 

 

Ian reached over and rested his hand on Vickie's thigh.  She patted it.  Neither of them said a word.

 

.  .  .  .

 

Between them, Ian and Priscilla carried out the introductions all around.  Ian was impressed by Julia's succinct but clear description of the problem, and her honest admission of how the thieves had been ahead of her every step of the way.  Her plan to get them to reveal themselves was simplicity itself, and the electronic homing device that Priscilla handed over brought a wicked smile to her lips.  Like her daughter, however, Julia wondered just how military grade surveillance gear happened to be sitting in the desk drawer of a Midwestern university professor of East Asian languages.  She knew damned well that you couldn't walk into a store in Chicago or anywhere else in the country and buy this sort of thing off the shelf.  Her curiosity fully aroused, she decided to have her husband run Ian Grady through the system and see what popped out the far end.

 

For her part, Harriet was happy to see Ian again, and gracious enough to congratulate him on his impending marriage.  With the way that he and Vickie were looking at one another, and with the sexually charged atmosphere that surrounded them, she took it for granted that Doctor Robinson was the bride to be, and congratulated her as well.  Vickie gently corrected the misunderstanding, and went on rather awkwardly to explain how Ian would marry Sarah, but live with her and Rita as well.  Julia managed to keep her poker face in place throughout the explanation, while Francie smirked and Harriet listened in obvious disbelief.  She expected that her husband would take a mistress or two, but for propriety's sake she also expected him to wait until after the birth of their first child.  She was prepared to overlook a lot for the sake of her family, but she would never tolerate  her husband's mistresses moving in with them!  What were these people thinking?

 

Coming to Vickie's rescue, Ian impulsively decided to invite Harriet and Francie to attend Rita's upcoming Saturday night frolic.  He was grateful to Harriet for the attention that she had shown him, and he thought that mingling with the Circle and seeing Vickie, Sarah and Rita in their own element would put her mind at ease.

 

Both accepted on the spot.

 

Amy … Priscilla … Suzie … Harriet … Francie … possibly Marilyn.

 

Rita's living room was going to be very crowded.

 

Ian wondered if they were going to need more chairs.

 

.  .  .  .

 

Bone tired after long hours in the courtroom, Rita staggered off the elevator and made her way to her office.  She had asked Candy to run interference for her, and pick up the lab results for her fertility test.  She knew that they were sitting on her desk. 

 

She sat down, lifted the blotter, and pulled out the envelope.  It was sealed.  Sitting there, she was still not sure that she even wanted to read the cold, clinical description of her reproductive system that awaited her.  Could she have a baby, or had Ian come into her life too late?  Taking a deep breath, she slit the seal with a fingernail, removed the thin stack of pages, and settled back to read.

 

SCENE 39:

 

THE PADDLE

 

Vickie peeked at Ian out of the corner of her eye.  They were finally alone, making the drive down to Ian's apartment, and they would not be disturbed until Sarah showed up sometime after eight.  Vickie kept waiting for him to say something, to ask her about the X rays, but he was silent as the Sphinx.  She debated putting it off with small talk about the squishy state of their diapers, and how messy Sarah might find them both when she finally walked through the door, but she couldn't get past the foot drop episodes in the hospital corridor.  Nor could she get the cane hanging behind his office door out of her mind.  He admitted that these episodes were not uncommon, so why didn't he carry the cane with him?  Was it, as Sarah had suggested, nothing more than stubborn male pride?  Was he afraid that they would dump him if he admitted that he was disabled?

 

In the end, she decided to broach the subject, but to come at it indirectly.

 

“I'm afraid that you're in for still another spanking,” Vickie confessed, not turning her eyes away from the highway.  “Or maybe it will be a paddling.  I'm not sure, but trust me, the paddle really, really hurts.”

 

“What heinous crime did I commit this time?”  Ian's tone was polite but uninterested.  He was watching snowflakes swirl in the car's headlights, night having fallen over the city minutes before their arrival at the diaper service.  If Sarah's threats were to be taken seriously, this would be the fourth spanking for which he was overdue.

 

“You have a cane, but you refuse to use it.  Why?  Ian, you scared us, and it has to stop.  Why are you so afraid to look me in the eye and say, 'Vickie, I'm disabled'.  Do you think that I'm going to cast you aside if you confess to something that I can see with my own eyes?  Do you think that Sarah or Rita are going to abandon you?  God, Ian, we love you-- even Rita loves you, she just hasn't come to terms with it yet.  We know what we're getting into, perhaps better than you do.  We are committed to this relationship, so a little honesty on your part would be much appreciated.”

 

“You're right, Vix, and I apologize.  I owe all three of you an apology.  It's just that I've been fighting this battle by myself for so long.  When I stand up, I'm good for about eighteen hundred steps, and then it all falls apart.  The pain in my lower back and right hip becomes unbearable, or my brain suddenly decides that my right foot isn't there any more, and down I go.  Sometimes, like today, it all rushes at me simultaneously.  If Priscilla hadn't caught me when I bounced off the wall ...”

 

“I know, baby, I know.”  Vickie shook her head in sorrow.  “I wish I could tell you that it's going to get better, but I can't.  I'm not going to lie to you; as you get older, it's going to get worse.”

 

“I figured that.  Sooner or later, I'll have to cope with arthritis as well.  But that's for another day.  What did you see on the X rays?”

 

“Keeping in mind that Sarah and I are not radiologists, it looks like the bullet is stable, but dense scar tissue has built up around it.  It's nudging your spinal cord, hence the pain that your experiencing all down your right leg.”

 

“Got it,” Ian nodded.

 

“You know what's funny, well … at least from where I'm sitting?  Sarah is planning, as she so eloquently puts it, to spank the bull shit out of you, and I don't see anything on the X rays to prevent her from doing her worst.  As long as she's careful … keeps her cool … she can turn your ass beet red … we both can.  Spankings, paddlings … you've earned the lot, Ian.  Do you understand?  It was one thing for you to dick around with your health when you were the only one who had to live with the consequences, but those days are over.  Now, the three of us have to pick up the pieces, and the emotional ones really hurt.  God, when I saw the pain written all over your face, saw you crash into the wall, it felt like the earth had opened and was swallowing me whole.  I was so afraid for you that I pissed myself … I soaked this stupid diaper … soaked it!  Damn it all, would you puh … lese show the women you love a little consideration!”

 

“Yeah, I hear you.  Believe me, I hear you loud and clear.  I've been a jerk, and the only thing I can say in my defense is that it's all happened so fast.  Falling in love?  It feels like I was on top of the Empire State Building and took the leap.  I'm in free fall, Vix; I can see the pavement rushing up from down below … rushing up fast, and I'm scared.”

 

“Second thoughts are natural, Ian; in fact, they're healthy.”

 

“It's not that, Vix; it's not that at all.  I don't want to hurt you, or Sarah, or Rita.  But how can I avoid it?  You said it yourself.  'It's going to get worse'.  I don't want to drag the three of you down with me.”

 

“That won't happen, for the simple reason that all three of us are going into this with our eyes wide open.  And let me say it again: we probably have a better handle on your future than you do.”

 

“I wasn't kidding about Thursday night, Vix.  And no, I'm not changing the subject.  I need something to hold onto, a part of the old me that I can hold onto while I'm trying to figure out how the new me should act.  Can you understand that … understand that Sarah will be better off if she gives up this idea of taking total control of my life?  If she does that, I will no longer be the man she loves … I'll be someone else … a stranger.”

 

“True, and I'll work on her, I promise you.  But you need to understand that women go into a marriage fully intending to tinker with the man they marry.  Deep down inside, we're all convinced that your mothers did a lousy job raising you, and that we can do it better.  You're all just putty in our hands-- or in your case, six hands.  Lucky you!”

 

“So, what should I do about Rita?  Thursday is coming up awful fast.”

 

“For a start, be honest.  Apologize for occasionally being an insensitive jerk, open up about your feelings for her, and let her know that at times you feel like you're drowning.  There's no shame in admitting that this is all new to you, and that you're scared.  Then ask her to change your widdle diapee; one thing I know for sure is that she enjoys babying you.  What the two of you need to figure out is whether you're after a Mommy-baby relationship, want to be lovers, or maybe some combination of the two.  As long as you're on the same page, everything will go well.”

 

“Good advice,” Ian conceded.  “But don't be surprised if I end up tripping over my tongue.”

 

“Rita will make allowance,” Vickie laughed.  “After all, no woman expects a man openly to share his feelings unless there's a cattle prod shoved up his ass, and he sees her finger on the trigger.  You'll do fine.”

 

.  .  .  .

 

Rita set the last sheet down, closed her eyes, and tried to relax.  The report contained both good news and bad, but perhaps more importantly, it contained nothing that she hadn't expected.

 

There had been no nasty surprises hiding in the ultrasound, but she had failed the hormone stress test, Linda circling the elevated cortisol reading in bright red ink.  She had even added a personal note:

 

You're desk bound.  You need fresh air and exercise.  Cut down on the booze, and above all on the coffee.  If you have a hobby, give it more time.  L

 

In contrast, her estrogen and progesterone numbers were textbook for a woman in her mid-thirties, and the ovarian reserve test had yielded surprisingly good numbers.  She still had roughly 90,000 eggs in her basket.

 

Lookin' good, kiddo.  This would normally give you one chance in five every time out, but he's so fertile that one in four seems more reasonable.  Mount him, or ride sidesaddle, but always remember that, in the immortal words of the Duke, “we're burning daylight.”  Seriously, don't put this off.  A year from now, some of these numbers will be in free fall.  L

 

Rita shook her head, thinking about the chat that she and Ian were going to have on Thursday afternoon.  She knew what she wanted to do; indeed, deep down inside she had known from the moment she finished crunching the numbers in his sperm report.

 

But how do I tell him?  How does any woman tell a man to whom she's not married that she wants to have his baby?  And what do I do if he says “no?”  Dear God, what do I do?

 

.  .  .  .

 

“Did you feed him?”  Sarah kicked off her shoes, and tossed her winter coat onto Ian's couch.

 

Vickie gestured at the empty baby bottles littering the floor around them.  Sarah didn't need to know that the breast milk had been poured down the drain, and replaced with the gin and tonics that she and Ian had shared over the last couple of hours.  Sucking gin out of a baby bottle had given her a nice buzz.

 

Vickie was cradling Ian's head in her lap, and running her fingers slowly through his hair.  Sergio Mendez was playing softly in the background.

 

Thursday night couldn't come soon enough.

 

“How's your diaper?”

 

“Wet.  We're both soaked, and Ian's definitely messy.  I may be as well … it's hard to tell.”

 

“He's sleeping, so I'll change you first.”  Sarah handed Vickie a throw pillow, which she slipped under Ian's head.  She climbed to her feet and, unbidden, walked to the bedroom, Sarah following.

 

“You brought his dirty diapers back with you.”  Sarah nodded in the general direction of the entryway, where Ian had dropped the bag when they entered the apartment.  Some of the diapers had been sitting around for two weeks, so the unmistakable smell of feces mixed with urine had predictably fouled the air.  “What's the game plan?”

 

“Ian will leave the bag of soiled diapers in the hallway before you drive him to the office, same as always.  The guy driving Lullaby's truck will show up at the usual time, and make the exchange.  There's a homing device sewn into one of the clean diapers.  If the thieves take the bait, Priscilla's mother will follow them.  If things go well, she'll wrap the case up in time to be home for dinner.”

 

“Neat.  Pants and blouse off, please.”

 

Vickie hastily complied, and once Sarah had unlocked and removed the diaper cover and baby pants, she laid down on the mattress protector atop the bed.  Sarah unpinned her diaper, and lowered it to survey the damage.

 

“You're right, Vic; you're soaked, and you've pooped yourself.  Couldn't you tell?”

 

“I wasn't sure.  I farted.  It felt wet, but I wasn't sure.”

 

Sarah got to work with baby wipes.  Determined to be thorough, she took her time.  “Did you get anything to eat,” she asked as Vickie pulled her knees up to her chest, exposing her rear.  It was covered with mushy poop, beneath which Sarah detected the faint beginnings of a diaper rash.  She would be finishing up with a soapy wash cloth, and a lot of baby powder.

 

“No, not yet.  It was starting to snow when we left Lullaby, so I wanted to get here before the road went to Hell.  Did you pick up something?”

 

“No.  I was eager to get home and look after my babies.  But it doesn't matter because I'm not hungry anyway.”  After Vickie left, Sarah was planning to toss something together downstairs in her own kitchen.

 

“So,” she continued, “let's finish up here.  After I've got you clean and freshly diapered, you can stop and grab something on the way home.  It's stopped snowing, and the roads are in good shape.”

 

“Wait a second,” Vickie protested.  “I thought that I'd sleep here tonight.  I don't want you to send me home in a diaper!  Please!  There's no way I can stay dry until tomorrow morning!”

 

“Vickie, you are trying my patience.  We have an agreement, and you are going to honor it to the letter.  Tonight, I want to have Ian to myself, so you are going home, and you will be wearing a diaper.  Come to my office first thing in the morning, and I will clean you up and give you your big girl panties … unless, of course, you would prefer to spend your shift in a diaper as well.  I must admit that diapers suit you, but it would be impossible to hide your condition from our colleagues.  It's up to you, but if I hear one more word out of you, you're going over my knee.  Frankly, I'm looking forward to your first spanking, just as I'm looking forward to giving Ian his first paddling in an hour or so.  Both of you need to learn that Mommy means business.”

 

Vickie briefly thought about standing up to Sarah, but just as quickly abandoned the idea.  Forcing Ian to choose between them, or more accurately to choose between his mommy and his wife, invited catastrophic consequences.  Ian needed both to make him whole, and neither she nor Sarah was capable of convincingly playing both roles.  In Vickie's estimation, Rita could do it-- but the complexity of her feelings for Ian had cast her adrift in the treacherous waters of self examination.  What she was going through, Vickie believed, was healthy and long overdue, but it meant that her support could not be taken for granted.  She might go either way; indeed, she might usurp Sarah's authority by remaining neutral, becoming the impartial arbiter to whose judgment both Vickie and Sarah would be forced to bow.

 

“I'm sorry, Mommy.”  Vickie was eating crow, and it tasted horrible.  “I keep forgetting the reason why you're keeping me in diapers.  I've been naughty for so long, and now I want to be good, but it's hard.  Please spank me when I'm bad.”

 

“I would like to spank you right now, but we'll wake the baby, so it will have to wait.  Now, let's get you into a nice, clean, dry diaper.”  Sarah had Vickie raise her hips so that she could spread one of the thick hospital diapers out beneath her tush.  She generously sprinkled baby powder and rubbed it in, then applied a second coating.

 

“You're a little red down there,” she commented, “and I don't want you to get a diaper rash.  Besides, the powder makes you smell soooo good!”

 

“Thank you, Mommy; I like it too.”

 

Using four pins, Sarah fastened the diaper tight, then slid the pink baby pants and diaper cover up Vickie's legs.  On command, she raised her hips so that Sarah could finish up.  When the lock snapped shut, and Vickie was once more condemned to a wet and possibly messy night, Sarah was satisfied that she had put one of her babies in her place.  But there was one more act of calculated humiliation that she decided to perform.  It was time for Vickie to begin bottle feeding, and to get her first taste of breast milk.  This time, Sarah would not take “no” for an answer.

 

.  .  .  .

 

Once Vickie was out the door and on her way, Sarah checked on Ian.  He was still asleep, and Sarah decided to take advantage of the opportunity to retire to her own apartment.  She wanted a bite to eat, but she also wanted to prepare for his paddling.  She moved a chair into the center of the room, then placed a quarter on one of the end tables flanking her couch.  She was planning to cap his punishment with a time out that would encourage him to think about his actions, and to come to terms with the fact that, from now on, they would have consequences.  She insisted upon total control of her baby husband's life, and if she had to be harsh or even cruel to achieve complete and unquestioning obedience, she would not hesitate.

 

.  .  .  .

 

Vickie raced home, her only detour the drive-thru at a McDonald's.  She wolfed down the Big Mac and fries while she drove, finally liberating her taste buds from the breast milk that Sarah had fed her, but she opted to save the chocolate shake for later.  When she reached her apartment, she kicked off her shoes, shoved the shake into the refrigerator, and dropped her heavy winter coat on the kitchen floor.  She rushed into the bedroom, tore off her blouse, and cursed as she struggled to peel her pants down over the thick diaper.  Finally casting her bra aside, she yanked one of the dresser drawers open, and pulled her favorite wand out of its resting place.

 

Lying on the bed, so sexually frustrated that she could scream, Vickie activated the wand  with one hand while she began to massage her nipples with the other.  All she could think of was Ian, his knowing tongue licking and nibbling on her tits, then moving on to her clit, then attacking her G spot, his thick cock finally piercing her and driving her mad with desire. 

 

Vickie was panting, her body writhing on the bed, the foreplay so well rehearsed.  How many times had she fantasized like this over the years, how many times had her juices begun to flow before she let the wand work its magic and bring her to a thunderous climax?

 

She tried a low setting first, and when that failed to stimulate her, she ramped it up, not stopping until she had the wand on full.  She massaged her clit … she massaged the canyon that separated her buttocks … she tried to ram the wand down first the front and then the back of her diaper.  But the diaper was thick and the cover impenetrable.  Her efforts were rewarded with a slight tingling, nothing more.  It sufficed to keep her aroused, but was not nearly strong enough to allow her to cum.  Her frustration steadily mounted, and when it became clear that she would never reach orgasm, she pounded the bed with her fist, her outraged screams giving way to despairing cries and finally to a muted whimper.

 

Vickie fell into a troubled sleep, making love to Ian in her dreams, but knowing all the while that she would always need Sarah's permission to make love to him in reality.

 

.  .  .  .

 

Sarah stood over Ian, watching the gentle rise and fall of his breathing.  Once, she might have marveled at his ability to fall asleep virtually at will, but her tenure at the VA hospital had taught her that soldiers were schooled to snatch sleep whenever they could grab it.  It was a skill that she could appreciate because it was one that doctors and nurses had to master if they were to survive their residencies.

 

Retiring to the kitchen, Sarah warmed up a couple of bottles of breast milk.  She planned to wake her naughty little baby, cradle him in her arms, and show him the nurturing side of her personality.  Then she would lead him downstairs, knowing that he would intuit what was coming the moment he saw the chair sitting by itself in the middle of her living room floor.  She calculated that his paddling would be far more effective if it took him completely by surprise.

 

While the bottles warmed on the stove, Sarah repaired to the bedroom, gym bag in hand.  She collected spare diapers and vinyl pants, but it was the locking mittens and feeding gag that were critical to his spanking.  She would produce them only when it became clear that he knew a spanking was in the offing.  If he resisted either implement, she would promise him still another spanking for his disobedience.  If he meekly submitted, it would be a clear indication that he accepted her as his mommy.

 

His reaction would determine whether he would read the D/s contract tonight, or later.  She wanted his signature tonight, if at all possible, so that she could move on to dealing with Vickie.  She had them both under lock and key, but she wanted them to acknowledge her authority in writing. 

 

Returning to the living room and positioning herself on the floor, Sarah lifted Ian's head off the pillow, which she casually threw aside.  He was still at most half awake when he slipped into her arms, and she was delighted to see his mouth yawn open when she pressed the nipple to his lips.  She wanted his infantile responses to be natural , and the conditioning that he had undergone in her absence had taken him well down this path.

 

As he nursed, Ian gradually came fully awake.  He looked up into Sarah's eyes, but he continued to suckle without interruption, rhythmically pulling the warm breast milk into his mouth.

 

He's content with his ba ba, and he no longer objects to the milk.  Breast feeding will seem natural to him, and it will be like heaven on earth for me!  Wonder how he'll react when Mom comes to visit, and he discovers that his nanny makes me seem like a pushover in comparison.

 

When the baby finished his ba bas, she summoned a loud burp, and then ordered him to his feet.  Taking him by the hand, she led him downstairs and ushered him into her apartment.  She knew that he was unusually wet and messy, his last diaper change now hours in the past, but she was actually looking forward to cleaning his dirty bottom.  She had positioned his changing pad directly in front of the chair, and she would put the mittens and gag within easy reach.  Only when he was over her lap and his bottom nicely warmed with a hand spanking would she produce the paddle.  It guaranteed that this would be a night he never forgot.

 

.  .  .  .

 

Ian's eyes grew wide and he stopped dead in his tracks when he entered Sarah's living room and caught sight of the chair.  When he saw the determined look in her eyes, his heart sank.  If he was about to be spanked for tormenting Rita, he had to admit that the spanking was fully justified.  Offering no resistance, he stood quietly while Sarah undressed him.  She did so silently, speaking for the first time only when she had unlocked his diaper cover and pulled it down to his ankles.

 

“Down,” she said after he had kicked the heavy canvas cover off first one leg and then the other.

 

He obeyed, and she sank to her knees beside him.  She ordered him to lift so that she could remove his baby pants, and then unpinned his dirty diaper.  She used the edges to clean up what she could, and then attacked his bottom with wet wipe after wet wipe.  She rubbed hard, wanting both to clean him and to bring blood to the surface.

 

When she was finished, she ordered him to sit up and hold out his hands.  Still offering no resistance, his hands were quickly and efficiently locked in the thick mittens, and he opened wide to accept the gag when she held it in front of his face.  It was his first hint that this spanking was really going to hurt--  Sarah did not want his cries to reach the neighbors.

 

Sarah took her seat, and simply pointed at her lap.  Ian took his place, and offered her his hand.  She took it, and pinned it painfully against the small of his back while she tightly gripped his legs between her own.

 

“Baby, do you know why you are being punished?  I will take a grunt as a 'yes'.”

 

Ian grunted.

 

“You disobeyed me, and you showed nothing but contempt for Rita.  I gave her clear instructions to limit you to breast milk, and when she tried, you defied her.  From now on, when you defy your mommy or your aunties, you are going to be punished.  I sincerely hope that you will quickly learn that none of us are going to tolerate your misbehavior.”

 

Sarah spanked his right buttock dead center, the first in a series of rapid smacks.  Then she moved on to his left buttock before assailing his upper thighs.  She wanted to get his attention, and she wanted to bring his rear end to a rosy glow.  When she was satisfied, she reached into the gym bag and withdrew the paddle.  Ian could not see it, and had no idea what was coming.  Sarah raised her arm, took careful aim, and brought it down as hard as she could.

 

THWACK!

 

Ian screamed, but the gag muffled it.  Taking her time, wanting to prolong his agony to drive home the lesson, she administered a dozen equally heavy blows, each of them bringing another muffled scream.  When she was finished, she ordered him off her lap and onto the changing pad.  Silently, she pinned him into a fresh diaper, retrieved his baby pants and cover, and locked it back in place.  Still gagged, and with the mittens still locked in place, she forced him to crawl into a corner and climb to his feet.  Holding up the quarter, she instructed him to keep it in place with his nose.

 

“This is a time out,” she explained, “an opportunity for you to think about how naughty you've been, and to learn some self-control.  I'm going to make this very simple for you.  You will remain here until I tell you to move, and if you disobey and the quarter falls to the floor, you will go right back over my lap for another paddling.  Then we'll try it again, and if we have to do this all night long, we will.”

 

Sarah walked away, and took a seat on her couch.  Since her fiance had complied with her every demand, she would finish up by having him read and sign the contract.  In the morning, she would make multiple copies, one of which would go in the mail to her mother, along with an invitation to visit at any time.  She knew that her mom would be extremely pleased by how well things were progressing.

 

.  .  .  .

 

Nose pressed to the wall, Ian's ass was on fire, but he ignored it.  The pain would fade, although the bruising would cause residual discomfort for the next day or two.  What he did not do was contemplate his sins; to the contrary, he concentrated on the quarter because he was pretty damned sure that Sarah meant it when she promised him another trip over her lap if it fell to the floor.  Patience won out, the patience of a soldier who had stood to attention on more than one parade ground.  When he finally stepped away from the wall, he was not at all surprised when Sarah ordered him to his knees, and had him crawl over to the couch.  And when she removed the mitten on his right hand, dropped the contract in front of him with an order to read and sign, he was relieved to discover that there was nothing unexpected in the document, and nothing that he wasn't prepared to live with.  In essence, it codified their relationship as mommy and baby, surrendered control of his body to her authority, and outlined in excruciating detail the punishments that he would suffer for his misbehavior.  It was, in the final analysis, merely the dotted I and crossed T on the verbal agreement that they had hammered out on their Saturday night excursion to The Dead Zone.  But Sarah wasn't a lawyer, and there were enough gaps in the document to afford him some wiggle room.  He needed Sarah to manage his life, but not to micromanage it.  The middle ground would only emerge over time, through trial and error-- and the errors promised to be painful.

 

Still gagged, Ian obediently crawled into Sarah's bedroom.  Silently towering over him, Sarah made eye contact, and then slowly began to undress.  First she removed her blouse, and then her bra, setting her heavy breasts free at last.  Then she lowered her pants, taking care to pull her panties down in the same motion.  Sitting on the edge of the bed, she slowly removed them, never breaking eye contact.  When she was finished, she crossed her right leg over her knee, leaving her foot sensuously twirling in Ian's face.

 

“Head down,” she commanded.  Ian obeyed, and Sarah unbuckled his gag.  It was covered in drool, which pleased her.  The catalog that her mom had shared with her was filled with toys that she intended to buy for him, including a stainless steel chastity cage and adult sized pacifiers.  She had promised him that the sex in their relationship would be intense, and she meant to deliver on her promise.

 

With the gag removed, and remembering Vickie's admission that Sarah found his tongue magical, Ian leaned forward and began to suck on her toes.  He tickled the sole of her foot, and then glided up to her ankle.  Sarah was mewing with pleasure, and by the time that he reached the inside of her thigh, she was laying back on her elbows, eyes closed, moaning, encouraging him to suck and lick, drawing him closer and closer to her clit.

 

Ian finally climbed to his feet, and leaned forward to tickle the tip of a hardened nipple with his tongue, licking it, teasing it with his teeth.

 

Sarah's moans grew louder, her breath coming in increasingly rapid pants, as Ian took her engorged breast into his mouth and began to suckle like a baby.  He fantasized about

Sarah lactating, squirting her warm milk into his mouth, draining first one breast and then the other.  His cock was straining to get hard inside his diaper, but Sarah had left him no space, and the fabric was too thick to yield to his attempts to push it aside.

 

Frustrated, Ian dropped once more to his knees, and swooped down with his tongue, caressing her clit while, in pass after pass, he lapped up the juices that were flowing out of her vagina.  Reveling in the salty taste, inhaling her scent, he  entered her with his tongue and began to explore, knowing that he was driving her wild, searching for the sensitive spots that would take her over the peak.

 

In ecstasy, Sarah reached out to grip his head, holding it rigid, urging him on.  “That's it,” she kept repeating; “oh God, that's it!”

 

Ian tickled the wall of her vagina with the tip of his tongue, teasing her, her need becoming more urgent with each passing second.

 

Sarah exploded, wrapping her knees hard around his head as she came and came, wave after wave of raw pleasure sweeping her away, Ian drowning in the essence of her.

 

In the end, relaxed and happy, Sarah slipped under the covers and pulled Ian into her arms.  She cradled him to her breast, which he once more took into his mouth.  Lying together, a tangle of limbs, she ran her fingers lightly through his hair, proclaiming her love for him over and over again as they gradually sank into a deep sleep.                 

 

.  .  .  .

 

When she woke up in the morning, Vicki instantly realized that her diaper was soaked.  For the second night in a row, she had wet in her sleep, and without any awareness of what was happening.  She had vivid memories of finally waking up dry in the morning at age seven, though her mother insisted that she continue to wear diapers and baby pants at night for the next two years. 

 

Vickie had not had a wet night for more than twenty five years, and now she had had two in a row.  In the predawn hours, her brain still foggy, she wondered if all the dry nights seared into her memory had been nothing more than a dream.  She had been a bedwetter in childhood, and she was still a bedwetter.  Mommy Sarah had put her in diapers to keep her chaste, but once Mommy discovered that she was a bedwetter, she would be wearing them for their intended purpose.  Mommy would never tolerate a wet bed.

 

Vickie thought that her birth mother would be absolutely delighted with this turn of events.  She had never wanted her baby girl to grow up, and cutting those apron strings had been the driving force in Vickie's life.  A slut in high school and university, yet excelling in the classroom … a slut in her twenties and early thirties, yet landing a prestigious job and carrying it off with flare and brilliance … for years, she had rubbed her mother's nose in it.

 

And now she had a new mommy-- a very, very strict and demanding one.

 

While making coffee, Vickie spooned a bit of the chocolate shake that she had forgotten the night before.  She would do her makeup and her hair, but she couldn't take a shower until she got to work and Sarah freed her from the hated diaper cover.  She would take a garment bag with extra clothes, just in case her diaper leaked en route.  The ward's staff bathroom was fully equipped, and her first group wasn't until nine.  She could take her time.

 

And she could put the wand that lay on the top shelf of her locker to very good use.

 

SCENE 40:

 

THE FALL AND RISE OF VICTORIA ROBINSON

 

Sarah awakened before dawn, and quietly slipped out of bed.  She had slept well, and she felt not only relaxed but reinvigorated.  When Ian had signed the D/s contract the night before, emotionally it felt as if she had crossed the Rubicon.  He belonged to her now body and soul, a helpless baby who would never again be charged with making an important decision.  Even many of the minor ones had already been stripped away-- deciding what to eat and drink and where to sleep foremost among them.  She would soon begin choosing his clothing, even what he wore from one day to the next.  She would limit his access to radio and television, take away the daily newspaper, and close his bank accounts.  His paycheck would be deposited into her account, and she would give him a weekly allowance … a very small allowance.  There would be no spur of the moment trips to one of the fast food joints surrounding the campus in his future.  In time, she would take direct control of even the smallest details in his day to day existence.

 

After showering and dressing, Sarah retired to the kitchen to make coffee, her thoughts ranging beyond Ian to her plans for Vickie.  She posed an infinitely greater challenge because, where Ian wanted to submit, Vickie was naturally rebellious.  She would have to be broken, but with her pride left sufficiently intact to perform her job to the high standard that John Lessing set for everyone in his department.  They could not do without Vickie's income, so an agenda of rewards and punishments looked to be the best option.  Sarah was relying on Vickie to violate their agreement, which would instantly condemn her to diapers 24/7.  She would lose her toilet privileges, and become wholly dependent upon her mommy to keep her clean, dry, and rash free.  If she was a good baby, Ian would be allowed to service her with his tongue-- and if they were both good babies, she would permit them to make love.  She intended to set this bar very, very high-- an obtainable goal, yet one that seemed forever just out of reach.  The greater their frustration, the more desperate their need, the more intense her control over both of their lives would become.

 

Ian was still sleeping soundly when Sarah returned to the bedroom and gently jostled him.  When he started to stir, she breathed into his ear and then wished him a hushed good morning.  Kissing him full on the lips, she drove her tongue deep into his mouth when he began to respond.  Coming awake, Ian kissed her deeply in return, gazing up into her eyes.  It was good to love, and to be loved.

 

“Time to rise and shine,” she cooed.  “Let's get you out of that nasty diaper.  You brush your teeth, and shave and shower while I run upstairs to pick out clothing for you.  I'll leave your dirty diapers outside the door, top off your diaper bag, and come back down.  Then it's diapers first, your ba bas second, and finally getting you dressed and ready for the day.  I love you, baby.”  Sarah had a warm smile as she patted him lovingly on the cheek.  “Do you love your mommy?”

 

“I love you, Mommy,” Ian agreed.  “You taste great and you're less filling!”

 

Sarah exploded with laughter.  “Baby, you make your mommy so happy … but she is still going to spank you before bedtime tonight.”  Sarah was wiggling a finger in front of his eyes.  “Deciding not to cancel your diaper service was very naughty of you, and has to be punished.  When you want to do something, you must come to Mommy and ask her permission.  Is that clear?”

 

Sarah deposited her baby's wet and soiled hospital diaper into a garbage bag, and then left him to begin his morning ritual.  After dropping Ian at his office, she decided to stop off in the cafeteria before heading up to the third floor.  An unexplained ten minute delay in freeing Vickie from her diaper bondage would nicely remind her that Sarah was the boss in their household.

 

.  .  .  .

 

Dawn was still more than an hour away when Julia got up from the kitchen table to pour her second cup of coffee.  All three of the Canons were early risers, but slow to awaken.  Hot showers and even hotter coffee were a daily ritual, without which each of them would remain stuck in first gear.

 

“So, what's the game plan, Mom?  Got it all worked out?”  Priscilla was nibbling on a piece of toast while she mentally gamed out her own day.  She knew that Vickie, Sarah and Rita were going shopping at the end of the hospital's first shift, which meant that Ian would remain in her care until Vickie returned.  She was toying with the idea of driving them over to the hospital, and then taking Ian across the road for some real food, the pastrami on rye in the delicatessen below uncle Andrew's office being the only one in the Twin Cities that could possibly compete with Sarge's in Manhattan's Midtown South.  Everything on its menu was cheaper than the legendary Katz's, and the owner was a retired cop, so a pilgrimage to Sarge's was obligatory whenever a member of the Canon clan ventured off to the Big Apple.

 

“They've seen my fastball,” Julia mused, “so it's time to go with a change up.  I'll trail the delivery truck for a few stops, then head to the office … make them think that I've given up.  I'll hit the deli for lunch, then maybe wander across the road and track down this Doctor Stevenson of yours … get her take on what's going on inside the heads of people who would steal diapers off of people's front porches.  Then, in due course I'll head down to Ian's apartment, find a place to camp out, and wait for the next act of this bizarre play to run its course.”  

 

“There's a high school parking lot directly across the street from the apartment complex,” Herb observed.  His head was buried in the sports pages; with the Vikings going down in flames, he had shifted his attention to the North Stars.  “It will start emptying out before three, so you should be able to find a good spot, and your beater will blend right in.”

 

“I'll look it over.  And do me a favor, will you, Herb?  When you get to your desk, put Professor Grady on the wire, and let me know what you get back.”

 

“Mom?”

 

“Something doesn't add up here, Dear.  That miniaturized homing device of his?  That he just happens to have sitting in a desk drawer in his office?  Pris, I'm pretty sure that it's military grade, and I flat out guarantee you that he didn't buy it off the shelf anywhere in this or any other country.  My instincts tell me that this guy is not what he appears to be.  So, let's poke a stick in the beehive, and see what comes out.”

 

“Mom, come on, this is ridiculous.  Ian wears diapers, and he pees and poops his way through about a dozen of them a day.  Don't make him out to be more than he is just because he has a fancy electronic gizmo that you don't recognize.”

 

“Herb?”  Julia ignored her daughter.

 

“I'll run it up the flagpole and see who salutes,” Herb answered.  “Can't do any harm, and you've aroused my curiosity.”

 

.  .  .  .

 

“All right, ladies,” Suzie barked, “settle down and stop grumbling!  Yes, I know it's early.  Yes, I know that it's still pitch black dark outside.  And yes, I know that not one of you has an eight o'clock class.”  Suzie surveyed the dining room, which doubled as the sorority's assembly hall; she was heartened to see that all but two of her layabouts had actually taken the call for an emergency meeting seriously.

 

“We must strike while the iron is hot, because if we don't, the Alphas most assuredly will!”

 

A collective groan swept through her unhappy charges.  No one wanted to come in second to the Alpha skanks.

 

“This week, I have been sitting in on Professor Grady's afternoon class in Japanese.  I expected to be bored out of my gourd, but to my surprise he makes it interesting.  And yes, I know that not a one of you gives a hoot … but consider this.  There were, count 'em, precisely two female students in the classroom, which was overflowing with guys in their early to mid twenties wearing dark suits and the obligatory white shirt and conservative tie.  They all look like refugees from the office towers downtown, which means that they're as smart as they are well groomed … ambitious to climb the fabled corporate ladder… and yet they all look starved for female companionship.”

 

Suzie noted with satisfaction that most of her audience was now paying attention.  Young men with promising careers and money in their pockets were targets of opportunity for the apex predators lying in wait up and down sorority row.

 

“The Alphas probably think that they've hit the jackpot, but we're going to beat them to the punch.  Diaper Butt has an eight o'clock class teaching Korean, and I expect that it's drawing the same mix of students.  The Alphas may or may not show up at so ungodly an hour, but this sorority is going to be there in force, and likewise for his twelve thirty Japanese class.  This is too good an opportunity to let slip by.”

 

“However?”  Suzie paused dramatically, her eyes sweeping the room.  “However, this does not mean that we are putting scalp hunting on hold.  Far from it.  You must double and then redouble your efforts to seduce male faculty campus wide!  The honor of the house is at stake here, but more importantly, you are honing the skills today that you will need successfully to compete with younger women when you are my age.  Seduction is an art form, and the more you master it, the more men you will have worshiping you in the years to come.”

 

“I scalped Professor Bergstrom in his office last night,” Tiffany smirked.  “And he was really nice about it-- posed for the photographs, and even asked me to run a set of duplicates for him.  Profs teaching night classes are easy pickings!”

 

“The Romance Languages Department is for beginners,” Maxine scoffed.  She wasn't at all impressed.  “Let me know when you get one of those Math guys to come down to earth.”

 

“She's right, Tiff … and History's no better.”  Carla was a Senior, and had worked her way through more than half a dozen departments.  “Hell, seven of those guys married girls who scalped them, and the divorce settlements set four of our not so innocent sisters up with a tidy little monthly alimony payment!  It's nice to know that you've got the beauty parlor covered for the month when the check shows up in the mail.”

 

“Hell hath no fury like a scalp hunter who finds her husband cheating with an even younger scalp hunter,” Maxine laughed, heads all around the room nodding in approval.  “And it's just a matter of time before the other three clowns end up in divorce court as well!” 

 

Some of the History faculty, although only in their forties, were already working on their third marriages.  Their financial incentive to publish rather than perish was high, which was one of the reasons the university was among the nation's premier research oriented institutions.  Very few people outside the walls of the university community knew how neatly marital infidelity among the faculty correlated with huge external research grants. 

 

“Speaking of targets of opportunity,” Suzie smoothly cut in, “how many of you have had a one on one with Diaper Butt?”  The bounty that PISS had put on Ian's head had instantly catapulted him to the top of the scalp hunting leader board.

 

Four hands shot up around the room.

 

“Anyone making any progress,” she asked.

 

The silence was deafening. 

 

“Babs and I compared notes after our visits,” Roberta finally volunteered.  “We both started out introducing ourselves, and he thanked each of us for giving up our time to help ward off the poachers.  When we asked him about his diapers, he just kind of shrugged like it was no big deal.  So, I went for the kill, and told him straight out that I really wanted to scalp him, diapers or no diapers.  He gave me a copy of his resume, said that it sounded like fun, but that I needed to clear it with his fiancee.  He even gave me her number!  I did call, hoping that she wanted to do a threesome … I need the practice … but she blew me off.  So, no joy in Mudville.”

 

“I tried playing the caregiver,” Barbara said, “the idea being that taking it slow might get the job done.  I told him that I had worked in the nurse's office during my senior year in high school, and had participated in insulin injections, diaper changes … everything that you would expect to encounter in the way of chronic health problems.  I offered to come by and change his diapers whenever he needed help, but he just smiled and said that his girlfriend had taken the matter completely out of his hands.  In the end, he asked me if I would be interested in volunteering as a candy striper at the hospital.  He even said that he would be delighted to take me over and introduce me to his lady love.  Apparently she works in the post surgical ward, and they're always short staffed.  It sounds like candy stripers get a lot of hands on experience in her department.”

 

“Volunteer work always looks good on your resume,” Suzie advised, “and candy stripers get to meet a lot of eligible young doctors.  Babs, you should consider taking Diaper Butt up on his offer.”

 

“And get stuck washing out all those bed pans?  No thanks!”  Barbara found the very idea of working in a hospital repulsive in the extreme.  Indeed, the idea of doing any work at all turned her stomach.  She had come to university to collect a bachelor, and it wasn't a piece of paper handed out by some flunkie at a graduation ceremony that she had in mind.

 

“So the question remains,” Suzie said as she brought the discussion back to ground zero, “how do we get inside Diaper Butt's defenses, especially since he's locked into what amounts to a chastity belt, and the only key on this campus is currently in the hot, little hands of the Batgirl.  Any ideas?  Anyone?”

 

“Do we have anything on her … you know, blackmail?”  Suzie couldn't pinpoint the speaker, who was somewhere in the back of the room.

 

“I wish,” she snorted; “how I wish!  Alas, she seems to be more pure than the driven snow … not a single scalp to her credit.  But we're both going to a meet and greet on Saturday night at the home of one of Diaper Butt's girlfriends.  I'll try and pump her for information, but I'm not optimistic.  She smells like a virgin to me.”

 

“Oh, yuck,” someone blurted out as noses got upturned from one side of the room to the other.

 

“Are there any other keys,” Roberta wanted to know.

 

“Three more, all present and accounted for over at the hospital.  His fiancee has two, and the girlfriend hosting the orgy on Saturday night looks to have the third.  I've seen the Batgirl's key in action; trust me, we aren't going to be able to duplicate it.”

 

“How about stealing one?  Are you going to try and sneak off with one at the orgy?”

 

“The thought has crossed my mind,” Suzie confessed with a sly grin.

 

“And then what?”  Wendy Stafford spoke up for the first time.  “Why does everyone assume that Professor Grady is eager to have sex with a complete stranger … a student, no less?  Missus Marshall, when we went to see him, he was polite and considerate to both of us, but that was it.  He didn't come on to either of us!”

 

“That's true,” Suzie admitted.

 

“Attentive, polite, but definitely not interested,” Barbara agreed.

 

“What about you, Bobby?  He gave you his girlfriend's number; what was that all about?”  Maxine had yet to meet Ian, but he definitely didn't sound like one of the pushovers in Romance Languages.

 

“Looking back on it, I think that he was using me to get a rise out of his girlfriend.  So, I'll also go with polite but not interested.”

 

“So, what am I hearing here,” Suzie mocked.  “Is there one person here up to the challenge … just one … or are you all going to settle for scalping easy targets?”

 

“I want to come with you on Saturday night,” Wendy suddenly blurted out.

 

“Why, Wendy?  What do you have in mind?”  Wendy Stafford was the last person that Suzie Marshall expected to enter the lists.

 

“His diaper is a lot thicker than mine.  So, I'm going to wear mine on Saturday night, and ask his girlfriend to change me when I'm wet … change me into one of his.  If we become friends, maybe she'll trust me to change his diapers once Officer Canon goes away.  It's the only way I can think of for anyone to get the key, which would give me more than three years to win him over.  That's the challenge … not just having sex but winning him over.”

 

.  .  .  .

 

Vickie's level of frustration had risen to the point where she was about ready to climb the walls.  Driving into the parking ramp, she had been relieved to see Sarah's car parked in its accustomed spot.  Vickie's diaper was soaked, she was worried about leaking, and to top it all off, her bum was itching.  Here she was, thirty three years old, and trying to cope with a diaper rash.

 

Deliberately slowing her steps so as not to draw attention, Vickie made her way from the ramp along the hospital corridors to the elevator that would take her up to Sarah's office.  En route, she had to pause more than once to exchange greetings with long time friends and acquaintances-- a morning ritual that was deeply embedded in the fabric of her life.

    

Unfortunately, on this Wednesday morning the ritual was taking its toll on Doctor Victoria Robinson.  The bottles of breast milk that Mommy had all but poured down her throat the night before were having the same effect on her bowels that they had on Ian's.  She was barely holding on, fighting to keep her anal sphincter tightly shut, knowing that relaxing for even a second would invite disaster in the form of the same mustard yellow, runny poop that Ian was helplessly releasing into his own diaper a dozen times a day.

 

Vickie was terrified.  If she lost control of her bowels, Mommy would insist that she wear diapers 24/7 because she self-evidently needed them.  She was confident that she could still do her job while wearing a wet diaper, but she didn't think it would be possible if she had to run to Sarah's office for a poopy diaper change every ninety minutes or so.

 

Vickie was barely hanging on when she entered Sarah's office, only to discover that her Mommy wasn't there.  Where could she be?  Scanning the third floor corridor from the doorway, Vickie couldn't see her anywhere.

 

And then she sneezed.

 

Mushy poop exploded out of her loosened bowels.  It kept coming and coming, spreading outwards to saturate her diaper, reaching and lapping at her vaginal opening.  And she was helpless to stop it, an unwilling spectator at her own humiliation.

 

Sarah walked into her office to find Vickie leaning her head against the wall, quietly cursing.  Sniffing the air, she knew instantly what her baby girl had done, which was exactly what her mommy wanted her to do.

 

“Aw, did my sweet baby girl make a dirty in her widdle diapee,” she maliciously cooed, wanting Vickie's humiliation to be complete.  “Did you?”

 

“Yes, Mommy, I went poo poos in my diaper,” Vickie confessed.  “Please change me.”  She hated playing this silly game, but realized that it was the best way to get Sarah to move things along.

 

“Into another diaper?”  Sarah was quick to take advantage of the opening Vickie had just given her.

 

“No, Mommy, please!  I want my panties.  This was just an accident, and it won't happen again.”

 

“I don't think this was an accident, baby girl, no … no, not at all.”  Sarah feigned sadness, knowing that Vickie would realize a poopy diaper delighted her Mommy.

 

“I know how much you love your ba bas, and how much you are looking forward to me feeding you at lunchtime.  Unfortunately, breast milk and poopy diapers go hand in hand.  So, from now on, it would be best if you wore diapers all the time.  But don't worry, Mommy will always be here to change you.  Mommy wants her little baby girl to be clean and dry as much as possible.”

 

“I don't want to drink breast milk … once to satisfy my curiosity was enough … and this diaper is so thick that there's no way I can hide it!”  Vickie was becoming visibly impatient.  “Look, I need to get to work and I haven't violated our agreement, so please unlock me.  I'll clean up in our staff bathroom, and toss this diaper in with the ones from our patients.  We change them day in and day out at the start of our shift.”

 

“And I'm already running late,” she added as she glanced at the clock behind Sarah's desk.

 

“We'll deal with your ba bas at lunchtime, but don't worry about your diaper being too thick.  It won't be because we are not canceling Ian's diaper service; his diapers are much thinner, and won't be at all visible under your uniform.  So, from now on, given your obvious loss of control both day and night, I do think that it would be best for you to wear diapers 24/7 … and look!  I thought that you might make a dirty, so I brought a few of them in with me just in case.”

 

Sarah gently turned Vickie around, and pointed at the diaper bag sitting on her desk.  Vickie's diaper bag.

 

“I will have a diaper pail brought in for you, and a changing pad.  Whenever you need to be changed, just come by, and I'll take care of you right here on the floor.  No one need be any the wiser; this will just be our little secret.  Well, of course auntie Rita will have to know, since the three of us are going to be living with her, but you can trust her to keep your secret as well.  You'll see, baby girl: everything is going to work out just fine!”

 

“Sarah, enough of this.”  Vickie had finally reached her breaking point.  “Unlock this diaper cover now!”

 

“Are you sure?  Don't you want to wait until you get the lab results … find out whether you can have a baby?”

 

“Go on.”  Vickie's eyes had narrowed.  She was pretty sure that Sarah was threatening her, but she wanted to hear it out loud.

 

Sarah reached into her purse, and pulled out a white envelope.  Opening it, she pulled out the D/s contract that Ian had signed the night before, and waved it in Vickie's face.

 

“This is an agreement that Ian signed last night before we went to bed, where he gave me a long and exquisitely satisfying bath with his tongue.  It's the best I've every had, Vic, and I sincerely hope that you will enjoy the feel of his tongue on your clit and inside your cunt as much as I do.  But whether or not you will ever have the chance is strictly up to you.  Want to take a guess what this agreement is about?”

 

“The D/s contract that you mentioned yesterday morning?”

 

“Got it in one … the very contract that you said you couldn't wait to read.  Remember?  I brought it in to make copies, including one for you.  Need I explain that Ian has now formally surrendered control of his body to me?  I paddled him last night.  I'm spanking him tonight, and paddling him again tomorrow night.  He will receive a maintenance spanking every week, and he will only have sex with you or Rita or anyone else when I permit it.  I am going to draw up a contract for you to sign as well, and that's the moment when we'll hash out how three women can live under the same roof with one man and not end up at each other's throats.  In the best of all possible worlds, I want each of us to have a baby, and for Ian to be the father.  But there can be only one head of this crazy household of ours, and I'm it.  So, you will do this my way, which means that you walk out the door of this office wearing another diaper, or not at all.  Am I getting through to you?”

 

Vickie nodded silently.  She was getting Sarah's message, getting it loud and clear.  A part of her even agreed with Sarah's reasoning.  For three friends to share one man without a clear understanding of the boundaries that would define their relationships invited disaster.  Someone had to take charge, make the rules and enforce them-- and Vickie wasn't about to kid herself that she was up for the job.

 

“I'll wear the damned diaper,' she conceded.

 

“24/7?”

 

Vickie nodded.  “24/7,” she agreed.

 

“Then undress, and I'll wipe your bottom, see to your rash, and send you on your way-- in a fresh diaper, baby pants, and with your diaper cover still locked firmly in place.”

 

“Is that really necessary,” Vickie sighed.

 

“Yes.  As you put it so elegantly on Monday night, you are giving me total control of your body until you're pregnant.  We'll discuss changing our arrangement if and when that happens.”    

.  .  .  .

 

When he reached his desk at police headquarters, paper cup of black coffee in hand, Herb Canon sat down and thought about how to gather information quickly on Ian Grady.  He couldn't access the professor's military records, and given the fact that he had moved to Minnesota less than four months earlier, local resources like the DMV were unlikely to turn up anything that his wife and daughter didn't already know.  California was the logical place to start looking; Grady had been there long enough to generate files in all sorts of places.  In the end, Herb decided to run the professor through the National Crime Information Center.  The fully computerized NCIC data base was massive, and getting more so with each passing year.  If there was a blemish in the professor's armor, the computer would find it.

 

.  .  .  .

 

Vickie stumbled into Rita's office, ready to apologize for being almost twenty minutes late for the start of her shift.  She had detoured to the locker room just long enough to hang up her heavy winter coat, which left her nerves on edge.  Walking through the ward, she was acutely aware of her diaper, and feared that everyone who glanced her way would be able to tell what she was wearing.  To make matters worse, Sarah had heavily powdered her in order to mask the poop smell that clung to her skin.  What her co-workers didn't see they would assuredly smell.

 

“You look tired,” Rita commented as Vickie sat down.  “Long night?”

 

“More like an eventful morning … and I was about to say the same thing.  Sorry, but you look like something the cat dragged in.  Rough day in the halls of justice?”

 

“Not really.  In fact, for once everything went as smooth as silk.  The judge remanded everyone we want to remain in treatment, and agreed with my recommendation to discharge Phil Kettering.”

 

“That is going to make Becky very happy.  Phil has now been officially released from his diaper bondage.”

 

“Unless Becky chooses otherwise,” Rita smiled.

 

“Speaking of diapers,” Vickie said as she stood up and turned around.  She wanted Rita to get a birds-eye view of her padded posterior.  “Does mine show?”

 

“Not really.”  Rita's eyebrows shot up when Vickie again sat down.  “Would you care to explain?”

 

“Sure.  Sarah and I have agreed that the only way to keep me on the straight and narrow is to keep me under lock and key, just like Ian.  I'm supposed to have my underwear back when I'm on shift, but I've soaked my diaper two nights in a row, and this morning I pooped myself big time.  Sarah cleaned me up in her office, and she now insists that I wear diapers 24/7 for my own protection … at least until I'm pregnant.”

 

“So, you've decided to have a baby.”

 

“We both have.  Rita, I'm actually good with this, especially if it doesn't interfere with my job.  One of us has to take charge of our household and manage it from one day to the next, or the whole thing is going to blow up in our faces.  I can't do it, and I don't want you to do it because you already have far too much on your plate.  Sarah's willing, and she's able.  I say let her run with it.”

 

“I'm good with that, although I'll put up a hell of a fight if she tries to put me in diapers!”

 

“Shouldn't happen.  Ian and I will be her babies, so your best play is to be the much older sister whom Mommy can trust to act responsibly.  I'm looking forward to calling you Auntie Rita,” Vickie laughed.

 

“Gee, thanks.”  Rita sat up straight, and tapped her fingernails on her desk blotter, knowing what was in the envelope still lying beneath it.  “Have you … uh … been to see Linda yet?”

 

Vickie nodded.  “We sneaked into the lab yesterday at lunchtime.  She'll call you to let you know that they're ready, then Candy can go and pick them up.  Sarah and I are on tenterhooks.”

 

“Mine was waiting for me when I got back from the courthouse.”  Rita lifted the blotter, and eased the envelope out from underneath.  “Everything's good, but Linda says that I need to get a move on.  A year from now ...”

 

“And you're going to?  I mean … you want to start a family?”

 

Again, Rita nodded.  “Yes … and I knew it the moment Candy summarized Ian's sperm report.  I want to have a baby with Ian, which means that our talk tomorrow afternoon is

not going to be one of those terribly awkward moments when somebody has to own up to their feelings first.  Does he want to be a father?  That's the first question.  And if the answer is 'yes', is he comfortable with having children with all three of us?”

 

“You're asking him to make a decision,” Vickie warned, “a big one.”

 

“Not really.”  Rita had already given this a lot of thought.  “This is about instinct.  He either wants to be a father, or he doesn't.  Whatever his feelings on the subject, the three of us have to respect them.  If he says 'no', we have to agree or walk away.  We are the ones who might have to make a big decision.”

 

Vickie agreed completely.  “I'll collect Ian tomorrow at three, and I suggest that the four of us sit down and talk this out as a … well, as a family, because that's what we're becoming.  Now, are we still on to go shopping for breast pumps this afternoon?”

 

“We are.”

 

“Then I'll ask Priscilla … Officer Canon … to babysit him until we get back.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a fully charged wand in my locker, and I propose to adjourn to the staff bathroom and see if I can get any action through this diaper of mine … one of the ones, be it noted, from Ian's diaper service.  I slept in his arms Monday night, but with both of us under lock and key, all I could do was dream about making love.  Last night I tried my wand on the hospital diaper that I was wearing when I left his place, and I got nowhere.  Our diapers and diaper covers really are effective chastity belts, so I'm horny as hell, and I need to do something about it before I have a nervous breakdown of my own!  What I'm wearing is a lot thinner, so at least there's hope!”

 

“When you're done,” Rita giggled, “file a written report … a detailed report of your actions and the results.  That way, if your orgasm is loud enough to be heard by the entire department, we can chalk it up to a scientific experiment!”

 

.  .  .  .

 

Ian was sitting at his desk, busily prepping an upcoming lecture on nervous ticks, superstition, and negotiating in the Korean boardroom when a small light embedded in his telephone began blinking.

 

Pausing only long enough to grab his sport coat and cane, he took the elevator down to the basement level, debating which of the three public phones at his disposal would offer the most privacy at this early hour of the morning.  Since the research library was still closed, he opted to use the phone located midway along the subterranean corridor that connected its basement entrance to his building.

 

The corridor was still deserted when Ian dialed a number that he had memorized eight years earlier.  He knew the man who would answer quite well: they had fought side by side in the grim and bloody defense of Hue.  Then, for two months they had shared a hospital room in the Philippines, recovering from the surgeries that had patched up their wounds.  They had even received their Purple Hearts on the same day.

 

Ian also knew that every word of their conversation would be recorded, and that some of the men who had access to the tape were not to be counted as allies, never mind friends.  There was always a price to be paid when you ended up on the losing side of a Potomac power struggle.

 

It was an hour later in the eastern time zone, the business day already well under way in northern Virginia.

 

Sitting at his own desk, awaiting the call, Donnie Freeman picked up on the first ring.            

 

After you've finished reading, you might want to return to the DailyDiapers Story Index