Secrets and Lies, Secrets and Lies! (And a Great Big Surprise)
Simon Nokes loved his dog, so he felt a tad guilty that it shared the same name as his ex-wife. He didn’t want that bitch (Sally the dog) to have anything to do with THAT bitch (Sally the vindictive marketing consultant). And yet he could not bring himself to rename her. He had changed his own name half a dozen times or so, but the dog had always been (and probably would always be) Sally.
Sally was laying around absentmindedly on the floor while Simon jerked off to a porno video. The phone rang and Simon reached for the remote. He waved his finger over the pause button and hit mute instead. Why should this asshole caller have to disrupt his pleasure?
“Yeah?” he answered. “Well…if that’s what you’re looking for, I’m your man. Uh-huh. Follow them? Got it. OK, then what. No…don’t you worry about that. It’ll cost you, but it’s something I’m prepared to do. Hey…don’t worry…this will never come back to you. I’m a pro, and for that kind of dough, I’m extra careful. Yeah…you too.”
Simon hung up the phone and smiled.
“Sally,” he said. “It looks like we’re gonna be moving out of this shithole pretty soon. What do ya say to that, girl?”
Sally barked her approval. She was a good dog all right: about the only thing in the world Nokes would feel bad about killing.
Meanwhile, Chris lay on Ashley’s bed in confused agony. All his strength had left him. Deciding to suddenly stop eating had not been smart. Furthermore, he felt the beginnings of a headache. What bothered him most, however, was not what was going on inside his body but what was going on inside his mind. Was Stacy one of the girls who had attacked him (if he really was attacked)? What was she hiding?
Suddenly, it dawned on Chris that he was alone in her room. He could easily look around and get all the answers he wanted. Or, he could even have some fun. But what if she caught him? He tried to imagine what his friends would do.
Chuck: Dude, start sniffing her panties. That’s about as close as you’re gonna get.
Ryan: I don’t believe this! You are in an ideal position, my friend. Now you want to go do something stupid and screw it up?
Pete: (Shrugs) Like you actually expected me to say something. Let it go…
Torn by indecisiveness, Chris began to very slowly pull himself up out of bed. He had nearly succeeded when Stacy returned carrying a plastic bag. She still seemed quite unnerved and looked to be out of breath.
“OK,” she said. “I brought you some things to help you feel better.”
“I think I’m OK,” Chris said modestly. “But thanks. Really.”
“You’re not OK,” Stacy told him. “Can you walk?”
“I think so.”
“Can you dance?”
“Umm…no.”
“There…see. Now just relax and let me help you….mmmok?”
Chris was about to reply that he couldn’t dance regardless but found it futile to argue. If she wanted to help, let her help.
The first item Stacy removed from the bag was a bottle of juice.
“Orange mango,” she explained as she raised his head from the pillow. “Ashley’s not going to be happy that you were in her bed, but hey…. mine’s all the way on the top.”
Chris nodded and began to drink. It seemed as if his thirst knew no limits. Next, Stacy produced a package of goldfish crackers and poured a palm full into Chris’s hand.
“Some for you,” she said, pouring some into her own hand. “Plenty for me. Hehe.”
The two of them devoured the package in short order.
“Thanks,” he said. “That helped.”
“We’re not done yet,” she told him.
“We’re not?”
“This next thing is to make sure you won’t have any more…um…accidents.”
Chris looked at her skeptically. What could she possibly mean by that? In a moment, he had his answer.
“No way,” he said flatly as Stacy held an adult disposable diaper out in front of him. “You actually freakin expect me to wear that?!”
“Come on, Chris,” she urged. “It sucks, I know, but it’s better than having to do laundry all the time.”
“What do you mean all the time? This was probably only a one-day thing. A…a virus or something, and I’ll probably be over it tomorrow.”
“No,” she told him pityingly. “You won’t.”
“How do you know?” he snapped. “What the hell is going on?!”
“Please just calm down…”
“I want some answers, Stacy,” he told her firmly. He then watched her grow very sad. All the cheerfulness, the wit, the irreverent confidence seemed to slip right out of her. The knowledge that his suspicion had somehow hurt her made him feel even worse.
“I can’t!” she objected. “I wish I could tell you, but I can’t. At least not right now. Please, Chris…. you have to trust me on this. Please?”
He looked at her doubtfully and bit his lip. If he had said no, and flat out refused her, they would enter limbo. And yet he was afraid to say yes, for he knew not what that ‘yes’ might mean.
“OK, fine,” he told her. “I won’t ask anymore…if you’ll answer me three questions. Just three.”
“All right,” she said, her voice trembling. “I can do that…I think.”
“Am I cursed?”
“Maybe.”
“Does this have something to do with what’s going on in the woods?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you helping me?”
She smiled and kissed him. He was stunned. He always thought he’d be the one to kiss her first. And he wouldn’t just kiss her; he’d practically devour her with kisses. But she had kissed him and he felt none of that now. In fact, he felt little of anything.
“Umm…Stacy?”
“Yeesss?”
“I…uh….oh, shit….I’m not feeling anything…like…sexually. Is that a part of whatever this curse thing is?”
“’Fraid so,” she told him.
“Damnit!”
“You weren’t going to get any anyway,” she teased. “I like you, but I’m not THAT easy.”
“Oh, thanks a lot,” he replied. He didn’t know whether to feel flattered or disgusted.
“Here,” she said. “Let me help you put your diaper on.”
“Umm…”
“Trust me, Chris, these next few days you are gonna need them.”
“Even still, I’m pretty sure I can put it on myself. How hard can it be?”
“Pretty damn hard, actually,” Stacy told him. “You see…it’s got six tapes and they all need to be sort of aligned for it to fit right. Otherwise, it might slip and then you’ll leak and that’d be totally gross. The package even says that the wearer – that’s you – should seek assistance.”
Chris groaned. “Not like I have much of a choice, do I?”
“Nope. But I promise I’ll take good care of you and I won’t tell A-N-Y one.”
“That’s a relief,” he muttered as she pulled off his pants. Though she was very gentle, he still wished he could feel something. Instead, he remained limp throughout. He also felt ridiculous.
“I feel ridiculous.”
“Don’t,” she said. “You look cute.”
“That’s why I feel ridiculous.”
“Hey.” She raised her hand. “Candycane underwear, remember? Am I ridiculous?”
“No,” he told her. “You’re cute.”
She smiled. The confusion remained, but the horror had at least abated.
“So…um…yeah,” she said. “I don’t want to seem like I’m rushing anything, because that’s not my style…but why don’t you sleep here tonight? In case you have another nightmare, it couldn’t hurt to have company.”
“Is that the only reason?” he asked.
She donned a puppy-dog face. “Well. I get lonely too. My roommate is gone on weekends and all my pets are at home. Unless you count Christine.”
“You heard that story too?”
“Everyone has.”
“I wonder,” Chris remarked. “If she has a boyfriend.”
Christine did in fact have a boyfriend. They were together for two and a half years until he dumped her two weeks ago (thus prompting her to get drunk and make a fool out of herself at the party – she knew damn well what she was doing). Every day, after trying (and failing miserably) to inject her residents’ lives with cheer, she would retreat to her room and cry. No one knew. No one bothered to care either. Meow!

Second Gathering: Recovery, Bliss and the Hockey Mask Brigade
“Chris?”
He glanced at Stacy’s alarm clock. It was 12:15 and for a minute he didn’t know where he was. “Wha? Huh?”
“You’re having another nightmare,” she told him. “You keep tossing and turning and mumbling stuff.”
“Oh. Sorry. For a minute, I thought you were Ryan.”
“I oughta punch you in the mouth,” she teased. “Come on up here before you totally ruin poor Ashley’s bed.”
Chris nodded and ascended the bunk to Stacy’s bed. Dorm beds were not built for two people, but it would have to do.
“Hi,” she greeted as he squeezed in next to her.
“Sorry,” he repeated. “I know I’m not leaving you much room, but…”
“Shh.” She pressed a finger to his lips, pulled him in closer to her and wrapped the sheet around both of them. “If you start having another nightmare or need anything, just squeeze my hand. In the meantime, don’t worry and try to get some sleep. ‘Nite, baby.”
“Goodnight,” Chris mumbled. Sleeping with Stacy helped. The nightmares befell him no longer.
When Chris awoke in the morning, he found that he was far from cured. His diaper was cold and wet. Stacy was lying directly on top of him and her knee was driving into his abdomen. In an attempt to dislodge her, he tumbled off the bed. Fortunately, he avoided hitting his head and his diapered posterior absorbed much of the impact. Stacy, upon hearing the impacting thud, opened her eyes and glanced down upon him.
“What are you doing?” She yawned.
“Good morning to you too,” he replied. When he told her what happened, they both had a good laugh.
“Now look,” she said to him, after he had hit the showers and changed. “You can’t keep coming here every time you need a change. People are gonna start spreading all those weird ‘floorcest’ rumors and pretty soon even Christine will have something to laugh at. Soooo…what I’m gonna do is put a bunch of diapers on you now, one at a time, so they are taped just right, and then you can slide them on and off when you need them. Mmmok?”
“Whatever,” Chris grumbled. He still wasn’t over the fact that he was actually wearing diapers.
“I know, I know…you don’t like it. But I promise…. by the end of the week, it will be straightened out…I hope.”
“If you are only hoping,” he said. “Then you shouldn’t promise. And if you care enough to be this nice to me, why can’t you tell me what’s going on?”
“I thought we agreed that you weren’t going to ask any more questions.”
“You agreed. I changed my mind.”
“Don’t be a jerk, Chris.”
He sighed. “Sorry. It’s just all this shit. It…”
She kissed him again. All complaints ceased.
By the middle of the week, Chris had adjusted, more or less, to the idea of wearing diapers. He wasn’t thrilled about it, but Stacy was doing her damnedest to make sure he was happy (or, at the very least, comfortable). Despite being temporarily impotent, he was able to please her with his humor and by merely being good company. Ashley didn’t mind having him around so often either, although she began to suspect that something was amiss. The only thing left unfulfilled in Chris’s mind was an explanation. He felt he had one coming. And a damn good one at that.
There was a brief item in the campus newspaper about reports of partying in the woods on Halloween night. Nothing further was mentioned. No masks, no fires, no weird curses or hexes. Chris shrugged. He didn’t care what the paper had to say.
There were others, however, who were very much interested. They convened in those very same woods on Wednesday night to further discuss the matter. All who were in attendance wore masks: Jason-style hockey masks.
“What’s the deal with the masks?” Chuck asked Matt.
“Dude, what else are we gonna wear? White hoods?”
“Why am I here?” Pete asked. His question, as per usual, went unanswered.
Professor Gary Thorne stepped to the front of the crowd. He was the only one among them who remained unmasked. A tough looking man of nearly fifty, he bore a slight resemblance to baseball great Wade Boggs and shared Boggs’ love of chicken.
“You know,” he said, addressing the crowd before him. “I’m all for a liberal arts education. But since when did that mean becoming so goddamn liberal? Last week, as you all know, some irresponsible individual vandalized the Women’s Center. And this college’s administration reacted with a fury. A fury! They pointed the finger at Christians, at athletes…at MEN. Of course, they didn’t dare question any women, because they, being the oppressed sex, could never do something like that…. right?”
“Bullshit!” Matt shouted.
“Quite right,” Thorne continued. “And then, we received reports a few nights later of trouble in these very same woods in which we now stand. We heard rumors of fire and dancing. Of possible drunkenness. Of sorcery. Of witchcraft. Which, Ann Rukeheyser would have us believe is harmless nature worship.”
“Bullshit!” Matt shouted again.
“We hear this and what does this college administration, with its liberal, pro-feminist, bend-over-backwards agenda do? Nothing. No investigation, no follow-through, not a single damn thing. Oh, but it doesn’t end there, my friends. Any number of my colleagues in the history department are revisionist, Commie-sympathizing bleeding heart cowards. Which, I suppose they are entitled to be, this being the land of the free and all. But when they start TEACHING that…you said it best, Matt, that bullshit, it just burns me up! Men make up less than fifty percent of the student body of this institution. The administration is overrun with sanctimonious liberal hypocrites who have nothing better to do than disgrace their roots and cater to minority groups. Well guess what…. we, the patriotic, God-fearing American men have become the minority group. And I for one, say that it is time to take the power back! There will be no more witchcraft here…not on my watch!”
“Yeah!” the crowd cheered, raising their fists in unified frustration.
“Let us be very clear on this, gentlemen,” Thorne continued. “We are not to resort to violence. We will not make any threats nor will ANY hate speech be sanctioned. That would be like letting them win. Like proving they were right to keep us down. We will, however make ourselves heard.”
“Yeah!!!”
Thorne smiled. “Now. Professor Michael Goodman of the Philosophy Department is holding a lecture on the Morality of War. He is, to the best of my knowledge, another socialist bleeding heart who happens to have an advanced degree. He will speak, undoubtedly, of a right to protest. Let’s show him what protest is all about.”
With a thunderous “yeah!” of approval, the Hockey Mask Brigade successfully concluded its first meeting and established its first initiative. First, they would take care of Goodman and Rukeheyser and the rest of the administration who would pose a problem. Next, they would come for the Coven. The campus was about to go to war.
Thursday Squared: Revolt, Dissent and A Big Old Slice of Pie
Come Thursday, the curse sill hung over Chris’s head. Confined to diapers, he had proven to be incapable of either maintaining an erection or controlling his bladder. Despite Stacy’s accommodations, he had grown quite impatient. It was nearly the end of the week and he had no answers. Did she really think that just because she was being nice about it that he’d simply forget? He made up his mind to confront her about it. He would ask for…no, he would DEMAND answers. And they’d better be the right ones.
“And now,” declared Dr. Morsey to her First Year Seminar class. “Because I don’t feel like teaching, time for a movie. Write a one-page reaction paper for next class. Wait…I might not feel like grading that either. Just try to learn something, OK?”
No one in the class objected. That the movie was a Woody Allen film made the experience all the less painful. After the movie…er…. class ended, Chris grabbed Stacy by the arm and dragged her aside.
“I’m not cattle, you know,” she commented. “There’s no need to heard me around.”
“Stacy,” he said somberly. “It’s been nearly a week. What the fuck is going on?”
“Didn’t I tell you not to ask me that?”
“I’m getting really sick of this.”
“Why? I take good care of you.”
“That isn’t the point.”
She sighed. “Tomorrow, OK? All will be revealed. In the meantime, calm your little diapered butt down.”
Chris flushed in embarrassment. He had woken up with the firm resolve to get answers, and that result now lay broken.
“You know what,” Stacy said to him. “I’m in the mood for pie. Come with me and we’ll go get pie.”
“I…” Chris began to object. “Forget it. Fine. We’ll go get pie.”
Disappointed, he allowed her to lead him to the dining hall where she procured a rather large slice of cherry pie. Chris wasn’t very hungry and placated himself with a granola bar. He watched as Stacy ate and got cherry filling all over the corners of her lips.
“You might be the one in diapers,” she joked. “But I think I need a bib.”
Angrily, Chris rose to leave.
“What?” she asked.
“You’ve got a big mouth,” he told her.
“Hello? Look around. It’s not like anyone’s listening in. Besides, I think people have better things to do with their time then care that you….”
“Shutup!” he hissed. “Just shut up.”
“Well fuck you if you’re gonna be such a jerk! You don’t want my help? Fine!”
He flipped her the bird and left her to finish the rest of her damn pie.
Upon entering the dorms, Christine ambushed him with another program announcement.
“Hey Chris,” she greeted, cheerful as ever. “There’s a super-cool lecture tonight. The Morality of War. You gonna be there?”
“I’m really not in the mood.”
“Aw, come on…”
“Don’t you have some guys’ legs to brush up against?” he snapped. “I heard you got down on all fours and did plenty of licking. You should be real proud of yourself.”
He passed by her without looking her in the eye. Had he lingered a moment longer, he would have seen her cry.
Chris tried, half-heartedly to get some homework done. Things were bad. He missed having Ryan around. If for nothing else, he provided decent conversation. They had spoken on the phone just last night. Ryan was having the time of his life. When he asked how Chris was doing, he said just fine. A lie. Chris felt bad about it. He had a lot to feel bad about.
There was a loud knocking on the door and Chris begrudgingly answered it. Ashley stood before him with a disappointed frown.
“What?” he asked.
“What do you mean what? Stacy’s really upset. So is Christine. So am I. What the hell’s gotten into you?”
Before Chris could answer, Chuck came sprinting excitedly down the hallway.
“Dude,” he said. “She’s actually crying. Christine is actually crying. She started to tell me about one of her programs and shit and I blew by her like I always do and she just started to lose it.”
Ashley kicked him in the shin.
“Ow! What was that for?”
“For being a bad influence on him.”
“Bad influence?”
“I was the one who made her cry,” Chris explained. “I brought up the cat incident.”
“To her face? Man, that’s pretty cold.”
“Yeah,” he replied sardonically. “Thanks, Chuck.”
“Is your goal to be mean to EVERYONE today?” Ashley asked. “Because so far you’re doing a great job.”
“I….no. I wasn’t trying to be mean at all. I’m just in a pissed off mood and people have been getting in my way.”
“Well…”
“Well what?”
“Apologize!”
“Yeah. Like that’ll do anything.”
“Either you do it,” Ashley threatened. “Or I’ll kick your butt. And then I’ll tell everyone your secret.”
“What secret?” Chuck asked.
“Not for you to know,” Ashley told him. She dragged Chris out of his room and marched him down the hallway, prodding him along with a few well-placed smacks on his diapered behind. They stopped when they got to Christine’s room.
“Who is it?” she asked, sniffling in between the syllables.
“It’s Ashley. Open up.”
She opened the door but recoiled when she saw Chris standing there.
“I’m really, really sorry,” he told her.
“A lot of good that does!” she replied. “My residents hate me. I’m a joke.”
“No,” Chris answered. “You’re not. You’re a good R.A. You actually care. If it wasn’t for you being such a pain in the ass, half of us wouldn’t even leave our rooms.”
Christine’s tears abated and she abruptly threw her arms around him in a tight, constricting hug.
“Umm…is that what I think it is?” she whispered into his ear.
“It’s a long story,” Ashley explained on his behalf. “And you really are better off not knowing.”
“OK,” she replied. “So I guess I’ll be seeing you at the lecture then……right?”
Chris nodded and Ashley dragged him to her room. Stacy was not crying, but she was visibly shaken.
“I…” Chris began.
“Don’t even say anything,” she interrupted. “I had to spend fifteen minutes talking to Pete just to convince me that you aren’t the antichrist and are just having a bad day.”
“Pete?” he questioned. “You talked to Pete.”
“Well, more like I talked and he listened. But you get the idea.”
“I’m sorry, OK,” he said. “I lost my cool. I blew it. But you have to understand: this problem of mine is very embarrassing. First you talk about it in public and then you tell Ashley?”
“Actually,” Ashley corrected. “I figured it out on my own.”
“Chris, I don’t tease you to embarrass you,” Stacy told him. “I do it because…well…maybe if you lighten up, it won’t seem so bad.”
“I guess I should be thanking you then.”
“You guess,” she repeated. “Get your diapered ass over here.”
Chris approached and she yanked down his pants. Before he could react, she planted a deep kiss on his face and followed it up by smacking him sharply on the leg.
“Ow!”
“I love you,” she said. “Don’t hurt me again.”
As promised, Chris found himself in attendance of the lecture that night. He had not yet decided whether it would be agonizingly boring or wickedly captivating. Michael Goodman was a short, bearded young man with a scholarly demeanor. He approached the podium and cleared his throat.
“HEY GOODMAN!” a voice from outside the auditorium screamed. “PROTEST THIS!”
Suddenly, everyone was roused to alarm by the honking of airhorns and wild rebel yells. Chris and others darted to the windows. They could not believe what they were seeing. A dozen or so people, dressed in hockey masks and robes, were skating around in front of the building like maniacs. They held signs and chanted in rhythm.
“DOWN WITH HYPOCRACY! WE WANT DEMOCRACY!”
“What…” Goodman began, scared beyond belief. “What is going on?”
Chris wasn’t sure he knew. By the looks of it, a war had begun.