Chapter 5
In her straitjacket and mask, time crawled. She could still play board games, in theory, if someone else moved the pieces, but Moira kept conveniently misunderstanding the instructions, winning game after game. Ernesto was of some help at least; he was someone she could talk to when he patrolled the common room, and once in a while he turned the page of the tattered magazine in front of her.
“Pumpkin pie,” said Ernesto, glancing over her shoulder. “Do you bake?”
“Haven’t made a cake in my life. But I know the fucking ingredients by heart. Page twenty-seven, please. Let me stare at the apple pie for a bit.”
Despite the boredom, Wednesday had been successful, all things considered. She had grossed out Moira at breakfast, almost making her throw up over the table, and her little competition with Sondra was going well. The woman’s diaper had swollen to an enormous size, but since lunchtime, Quinn was clearly ahead. Ernesto had to loosen the crotch strap of her straitjacket to make room.
She stood up, hoping she could squeeze out a bit more to secure her victory. Walking in her soiled, heavy underwear was a challenge, but like back in her movies, she enjoyed the sensation.
“The waddle of victory,” said Ernesto, clearly amused. “Fullest diaper on the ward again, after rather disappointing results yesterday.”
“That was deliberate.” She strained, but nothing came out. “Nobody wins the title two days in a row. You need a day to save up, obviously.”
Ernesto glanced over to Sondra, who was coloring in a book that had already been colored a million times. He grinned. “I don’t think she knows she’s in a competition.”
“Doesn’t matter. The important thing is I’m winning. Seriously, that stuff they’re feeding us? I need the recipe when I’m out. I’ve never shit this much in my life. If I ever make a movie again–”
His hand went to his ear, listening to something on his radio.
“You’ve got a visitor.”
“A visitor?” asked Quinn, staring at him. “Me? I’m not expecting anyone. Who is it?”
“They didn’t say. But… uh… you couldn’t see them in this state anyway. I’ll tell them to come back tomorrow.”
If it was Ralph – and who else would come by? – he would get a thrill out of seeing her like this. It was like Diaper Darling’s Dirty Deeds and Tied Up & Turned On rolled into one epic movie. They had probably fired him too, but she hadn’t talked him into anything; he had made his own decisions.
Depending on how tight security was in the visitor’s room, maybe she could at least suck his dick. He’d have to take off her mask, though.
Quinn shrugged. “Fuck this. Let’s go!”
The visitors’ room on the first floor was small and sterile, with a single steel-barred window. Painted in the unavoidable pastel colors, it was furnished with a sturdy table and two chairs, one on each side. In a half-hearted attempt at making it welcoming, someone had put a couple of plastic flowers in plastic pots on the windowsill.
When Quinn waddled into the room and saw the tall blonde woman standing in the corner, smartly dressed in an expensive, beige pantsuit, she rolled her eyes and exhaled sharply.
Fuck. This is gonna be awkward.
“What are you doing here, sis?” she asked after Ernesto had left the room, closing and locking the security door behind him.
If Violet was shocked by seeing her younger sister in a straitjacket, a spit mask, and a comically swollen diaper, she didn’t let on. With her arms crossed, she glanced at Quinn, to the steel-barred window, and back at Quinn. Even though she seemed calm on the outside, that usually didn’t last five minutes.
“Now this is rich, even by your standards,” said Violet finally, wrinkling her nose. “But we all knew you’d sooner or later end up in the loony bin.”
“Did you, huh?”
Violet shook her head slightly and sighed. “Mom and Dad sent me. They’re sick of your drama, by the way.”
“What drama?” asked Quinn, walking up to the table. “I was just–”
“Stay where you are!” shouted Violet, raising her hands. “Damn, you stink. Don’t you dare come closer!”
As if that would make a difference.
Quinn shrugged and took a step back, making the contents of her diaper shift as she leaned against the wall. Violet had always been oversensitive and less than supportive of her life and career choices. Screw her.
A sudden spreading of warmth made Quinn realize that she was peeing. It wasn’t the first time it happened these past few days – her body was adjusting to a new kind of liberty.
“Relax,” said Quinn, making no attempt to stop the flow of urine. “This was all completely blown out of proportion. Total overreaction.”
“It was on the news!” screamed Violet, exasperated. She crossed her arms, her fists clenched. In that pose, shaking with rage, she looked just like Mom. A younger, grotesquely over-dressed version of Mom with fake nails and eyelashes.
Using her left foot, Quinn pulled the chair out from under the table. When she sat down heavily, the overfull diaper made a squelching sound, and the already putrid smell in the room intensified. Violet looked positively queasy.
“So? There’s no such thing as bad publicity. This will all help my movie career; you’ll see. As soon as I get out of here–”
“Shut up already! Goddamit!” Violet’s voice was getting shrill now. “I mean, just look at you! This is not normal!”
Quinn grinned, and this time, the spurt of pee was intentional. Much to her disappointment, her bowels were empty, no matter how hard she strained and pushed.
She remembered the last time Violet had been this furious – after the release of Brown Town Tales, she had sent the trailer and some promo material to the family chat. Violet’s husband had probably realized that he had married the wrong sister.
“Now who’s being dramatic?” asked Quinn. “Who gives a fuck? This is just how they do things here. How about you take a deep breath–”
“Deep breath?! In here? You’re sitting in your own filth!”
Quinn chuckled. “Calm down; if you get all hysterical, they might keep you for observation. Anyway, they’re gonna give me my eval results on Friday, and then I’ll be out. Okay, maybe I’ll get a week in jail if I’m unlucky.”
Violet threw her hands up. “Whatever! Just so you know: you’re no longer welcome at home. Dad cleared out your room; you can get your stuff from the garage when they let you out of here. If they let you out of here.”
The thought of Dad going through her drawers, tossing her collection of dildos, butt plugs, and other sex toys into boxes made her chuckle. She just hoped the lifesize cardboard cutout of herself from the promo material of Dirty Deeds had survived the packing.
She shrugged. “Then I’m gonna move in with Ralph.”
“Who’s Ralph?” Violet clutched her purse. “Was he the one…?”
“My man,” said Quinn, smirking. “The one who was fucking me on that tape. Not sure if you’ve seen it. If it was on the news, they probably blurred out the best parts.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Quinn shifted in her chair. “Sis, I’m gonna need your phone for a minute to give him a call. He must be really worried by now.”
“Forget it.”
“Then I’ll tell everyone you were my co-star in Poopy Princess. Do you know how many followers I have?”
Her sister had always been snooty, but ever since her creepy husband won a few bucks in the crypto market and bought her the nail salon where she worked, it had become unbearable. The thought of seeing her at a porn set with a hard dick in every hole was hilarious. If anything could cure haughtiness, it was getting down on your knees and sucking shit off someone’s dick.
Violet stared at Quinn, hands shaking. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wanna bet on it? You should know me better.”
“I don’t have his number.”
“He should be listed. Ralph De Luca, Carlton Avenue. Hurry. That bottle blonde in Poopy Princess really looked a bit like you. Bigger tits, but with that push-up you’re wearing…”
“Fine. But behave, or I’ll hang up.”
Violet sighed and pulled her phone with the pink, crystal-studded case out of her purse. She tapped the name and put the phone on the table. On the second ring, Ralph picked up.
“De Luca.”
Quinn closed her eyes for a moment. It felt so good to hear his deep, gruff voice.
“Hey, Papa Bear! It’s me.”
There was a pause. “Muffin? That you?”
“Yeah, calling from my sister’s phone. Sorry I dropped off the radar. I’m a bit tied up right now.”
“I heard you got arrested after that thing with Nigel, but nobody knew where you were. I was getting worried; left you a million messages.”
“Don’t be. I’m in Hackney Heights; they put me in a straitjacket, if you can believe it. Got a diaper too.” She grinned, glancing over to Violet. “I’ve been pissing and shitting myself all day. You wouldn’t believe how big and stinky–” Violet’s finger crept closer to the hangup button. “Sorry, big sis is getting her panties in a twist. I’ll tell you all about it later. Listen, when I’m out, can I crash at your place for a few days? The parental units finally kicked me out.”
“Sure, sure. Happy to have you here, Muffin.”
“You’re the best. Just thinking of you makes me wet, baby.” She smacked her lips for a big kiss. “I’ll give you a call when they cut me loose. In the meantime, watch our home videos, and think of me when you jack off.”
“I will. By the way, your agent called when she couldn’t get a hold of you. Some opportunities opened up, now that you were on the news.”
Quinn felt her heart pounding in her chest. “They’re shooting another movie?”
“No, that business is dead like a run-over possum. But she said she can get you some live shows. Private audience, reasonable pay.”
‘Ohhh! Tell her I’m game. I found I have a knack for live performances. I’ll ask big sis if she wants to join me. But damn, I really miss your hard dick up my–” Violet tapped the button and snatched her phone off the table. “Bitch! I wasn’t done!”