Gramps - Chapte 1

 

Gramps

By Karen Singer

 

Chapter 1

 

A slight noise outside caught my attention.  I hurried to the front door and opened it.  I saw a delivery man just climbing back into his truck.  But there, in front of me, right in front of my door, was a box.  My breath caught and my spirit soared.  It had arrived!  I knew it was coming today and I was watching and waiting for it desperately.  And now it was finally here.

I carried the box inside and all the way to my bedroom where I set it down on my bed.  A few swipes of a knife cut the packing tape and I opened the box.  There, inside, I pulled away the paper packing material to expose two small packages of hard bubble wrapped plastic.  I grabbed them and looked at them carefully.  I wished they were a bit more girly, but that was okay.  They were the best the store had to offer in the way of adult sized pacifiers.  I was already looking forward to unpacking them and sticking one in my mouth.

But now my attention was more riveted on what was underneath the two extra-large pacifiers.  Adult diapers.  Adult baby diapers to be exact.  I had never ordered any before, and just starting out I had taken the time to contact the store to get their advice.  They had offered to put together a sample package for me of diapers I could try.  There was a section of the box that held larger, fatter diapers, the ones I had asked for to use at night, but the rest of the box held regular diapers that I could already see were each covered in nursery prints.  I noticed a lot of pink on the diapers, but then, when they asked me about it, I had been brave enough to specify that I would prefer diapers for a sissy baby.  That would be me.  A sissy!  Despite the fact that I was pretty much just starting out…oh, and that I was sixty-nine years old.

Okay, okay!  I wasn’t just starting out, even though I was.  Is that confusing?  It really isn’t.  Let me explain.

As I said, I was sixty-nine years old when all this started.  Old enough to know better than to be doing anything like this.  But the truth was, I was also old enough to no longer care.  It was my life and I wanted to do what I wanted with the time I had left.  The sad part was that my wife of almost forty years had died several months prior, and her passing hurt me more than I can explain.  But at the same time, it also freed my mind.

With my wife gone, I no longer had to worry about her ills and problems, and it left me free to exercise and indulge in an ancient fantasy of mine.  Uh…two fantasies that I discovered many people on the internet had managed to combine into one.  The first fantasy?  I loved…okay, I was interested in dressing in women’s clothes.  All kinds of women’s clothes.  Not only that, but clothes for any age women from young girls up to…uh…I guess my age.  That’s fantasy number one, but fantasy number two was more embarrassing.  Fantasy number two was that I wanted to try wearing diapers all the time like a baby.  Maybe even try going incontinent for a few weeks…or maybe even a few months.

And then on the internet I discovered what was now something called a sissy baby.  Combining both my fantasies into one – being babyish, and being girlish at the same time.  Kind of being a baby girl, or, a sissy baby as the term had been coined.  So I guessed that must be me.  A sissy baby.  If the shoe fits, wear it.  And, uh, I wanted those shoes to fit!  Especially if they were girl’s shoes…heels or flats, I didn’t care.  I was just interested in and dying to try it all.

Yeah, yeah, it’s dumb, I know.  But hey, it was my life, and after sixty-nine years, I felt like I had the right to do anything I wanted…as long as it didn’t hurt anyone else.  But trust me, I was planning on this being my own little private interest, so I saw even less wrong with it than I’m sure anyone else would.  Okay?  Hey, that’s where this story starts.  Or maybe not.

I guess I should tell you that my name is Bill.  William actually, but everyone always calls me Bill, and I prefer Bill.  It’s friendlier.

About ten years ago, my wife Ruthie and I took a trip from our home up in Maryland, down here to the hills of Tennessee.  Long story short, we fell in love with the place.  Enough that we came back time after time.  Eventually, we bought a nice house on a large piece of land outside of Johnson City in the northeastern part of the state.  Heaven!  Our planned retirement home for as soon as we could both retire.

Eventually, retirement reached us each at close to the same time and we were off!  Away from the rat race of fast-paced Maryland life and down here to the quiet hills and trees in Tennessee.  We left our friends and family behind and simply soaked up the quiet slower pace of things in our new home.  As I said, heaven!  Until my wife got sick.

The cancer came quickly and seemed to take her even quicker.  The devastation that hit me over it was almost more than I could take.  But while she was now gone, I was still alive.  As the kids all told me, don’t lay down and die Gramps!  Uh…that’s what everyone called, me.  Gramps.  We had seven grandkids, and since they all called me Gramps, and my wife Grams, even our kids started calling us that.  As I got older, the name Gramps seemed to define me more than I ever thought it would.  I wore the name proudly!  Still do, despite what my life has now become.

Anyway, after Ruthie died, the old…and by old I mean ancient…fantasies began filtering their way into my head once again.  Fantasies that had only existed when I was much younger.  Yes, yes, they existed all my life, but every time those fantasies surfaced, I was able to push them away.  I’m proud of that.  But with Ruthie gone, I was suddenly alone, and I no longer needed to push them away.  So I…uh…indulged a bit.

The first thing I did was to buy some of those cheap incontinence briefs that the drug stores carry.  Modified adult diapers I guess.  At least that’s what I hoped they were.  I bought my first package of them about a month after Ruthie passed.  Hey, there’s an awful lot of people my age and younger who wear the darn things all the time.  There was no shame at all in buying them, even though, yes, I did feel not just a thrill when I bought them, but more than a bit of embarrassment as well.  Unfounded embarrassment.

I began wearing those cheap lousy things occasionally instead of my regular underwear.  I even experimented a few times with wetting them and once or twice (or more) messed in them as well.  Yuck!  But hey, it was my fantasies.  Fantasies that I was enjoying so much that I even got up the nerve to buy a baby pacifier while I was in one of the stores.

And then several months later, I got up the nerve to email one of those adult baby specialty stores and I asked their advice about what would be the best kind of real adult baby diapers I could buy.  I have to say, whoever wrote me back was very kind and understanding.  Something I was very happy about.  And so I eventually had a box of real adult baby diapers sitting on my bed.  Some of them for nighttime use, the rest for daily wear.  Oh, and two adult baby pacifiers to stick in my mouth as well, just to fill out the fantasy a bit more.  I had a feeling that they would be much better for me to suck on than those baby ones I had actually been trying to use.

I think that about brings us up to date now with where I started.  At least I hope it does.  Just to recap.  Wife died.  Family all went home to Maryland where they belonged.  My life got quieter than I ever imagined.  And I was alone here in Tennessee.  Alone with a new box of adult baby diapers.  Yeah, we’re back to where I began this thing.

I was happy…even without Ruthie.  Happy because I had a new hobby to indulge myself in.  Nobody knew about it but me, and that’s the way I wanted it.  I tried each of the diapers in that box, carefully making notes about each kind so I could find the ones I liked the best.  When the box reached about the halfway point, I ordered more adult baby diapers, one full package of the best brand of night diapers, two packages of the daytime diapers I liked the best, and one package of different ones that the store recommended I should try.  So, four full packages this time.  I also ordered three pairs of plastic pants that they recommended in case my diapers leaked.  I had already been through that problem and had to clean it up from one of my chairs.  Oh, and the store also had some little girl Mary Jane style shoes that I ordered in a nice shiny black, just to indulge the other fantasy of mine.

While I waited for my next order to arrive, I was brave enough to wear a diaper under my clothes while I was out grocery shopping.  Just for kicks, I stayed in the supermarket long enough until I was able to wet the thing slightly.  Then I finally checked out and got the hell out of there.  While I was in there though, I bought myself a baby bottle and a gallon of milk along with my other groceries.  On the way home I stopped quickly into the pharmacy and grabbed a package of white tights to go with those new shoes I had ordered.  Now I just needed them to arrive.

Two days later, they were on my doorstep.  Ten minutes after that, the tights were on my legs, and the shoes were on my feet.  I was so happy with them that they stayed on my feet for the rest of the day…and the next day…and…okay, I wore them whenever I could, which was pretty much permanently unless I left the house.

Um…I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I quickly discovered that drinking warm milk from a baby bottle in the evening before bed was a very relaxing thing.  I mean, it was just nice.  Since it was so nice the first time, I made sure to do it every night.  During the day, drinking anything from the baby bottle was just frustrating.  You couldn’t get any liquid out fast enough.  But lying there on my bed, ready to go to sleep, I was just able to relax and enjoy the experience.  I think having to be patient to get everything out of the bottle forced me to relax.  Overall, so far, believe it or not, my nightly warm bottles were one of the highlights of my little experience.

No.  I didn’t wear the diapers all the time.  I wanted to.  I tried to.  But after a few hours each time, or at the very most, a few days, I would give up.  I often put one on in the morning, then by afternoon I’d had enough of it and off it would come.  The little girl shoes though, those I enjoyed.

I ordered a dress, and a skirt.  I even ordered a pair of high heels.  All of my things, well, most of them, I bought online.  No use having people wondering about what I was doing.

And I was happy.  Happy with all of it.  Happy with my entire life.

Until the phone rang.

“Hi Gramps!”

“Kimmie!  How are you?” I replied, recognizing the voice of one of my granddaughters, Kimberly.

“Great.  Gramps, I’m here in Johnson City.  Mind if I stop by?”

“You’re here?  In Tennessee?  In Johnson City?  I didn’t even know you were coming.”

“I had a job interview here,” she said.  “I’ll be there in ten minutes to tell you about it.”

“Uh…great!” I replied nervously.  “See you then.”

I ended the call and made a mad dash for my room to remove every last vestige of anything weird from my body, which included a diaper, plastic pants, white tights, and those shoes I adored.  Then I hid everything in the closet where nobody could ever see it.  The doorbell rang before I was finished hiding it all, but it was close enough.

I welcomed Kimmie in and we headed for the kitchen where we both put pods in the coffee machine before sitting down at the kitchen table.  “A job interview,” I said.  “Here?  You didn’t even tell me you were coming?”

“I didn’t get here until just before my interview,” she told me.  “It was kind of last minute.  Sorry,” she said.

“It’s fine!” I told her.  “I’m happy that you called.”  Sort of.  “So how did your interview go?  Where was it?”

“Johnson City High,” she told me.  “And Gramps,” she said excitedly.  “I got the job!  And I’ll be the head coach for the girl’s softball team…along with teaching some other classes.”

“Fantastic!” I congratulated her.  “So you’re going to be around here all the time,” I realized.

“Uh…Gramps,” she said.  “Mom and a few others in the family kind of thought it might be a good idea if, instead of getting my own place, if I moved in here with you.  You’re all alone and at your age, they all think it would be better if someone was here with you.”

“Um…”  But she was my granddaughter, and I couldn’t let anyone know about the things I was recently into.  “Sure.  I guess,” I replied.  “Even though, trust me, I’m fine!  I’m doing fine all by myself.  But if you want to save some money then, you know I’ve got some unused bedrooms upstairs.  Heck!  You can have the entire upstairs to yourself…as long as you keep it clean, so I don’t have to go up there.”

She came out of her seat and hugged me tightly.  “Gramps!  You’re the best!”

Yeah, sure.  So much for my personal fun.  At least I was able to enjoy it for a little while.  It had been fun though.  Not to mention, interesting.  More so than I ever thought it would be.

“When do you start?” I asked.

“When school starts in August.  I’ll probably move down here pretty soon though so I can get settled in and find my way around the area.”

Soon!  Like I said, so much for my personal fun.  It was time to take all that fun stuff I had bought and throw it out…somewhere where she would never see it.

Funny thing.  When it came to throwing all that stuff out, I couldn’t.  I just couldn’t!  Besides, she wouldn’t be there all the time.  I could still play with it while she was teaching.  Not only that, but if I just “happened” to wear a diaper under my pants, she’d probably never even know it.  And if she did notice, I could always tell her that I was having…uh…problems.  Didn’t a lot of people my age have problems like that?  I was sure of it.  So…no problem, and no need to get rid of any of it.  I just made sure it was all well hidden in the back of my closet.  Besides, how many times had I started out with the intention of “playing” for a long time…months maybe…only to rip it all off that first afternoon.  Many, many times.  It was all fantasy after all.

So I kept it.  Every bit of it.  Not that there was really that much.

I can tell you that in the few weeks between then and the time she actually moved down, I played a lot!  And I mean a lot!  As if I was trying to get my fill of it all at one time, because I knew that very soon all my fun would be over.

And eventually, it was over.  Another car graced my garage along with my pickup truck, my upstairs was no longer completely unused, and I was no longer alone.

It wasn’t long though before I yearned to be alone again, much more than I imagined I would, just so I could play again.  How could I miss something like that so much?  I had to be sick!  Well, I suspected that.  Just look at the stuff I was into.

In the days before school started for Kimmie, I never once touched my things, although I certainly thought about it more than I imagined I would.  Still, I never once dared to pull any of it out of hiding, even though there were things I could probably get away with.  But once she was gone every day, off teaching school, things were different.  It was less than a week before I began pulling things out and wearing them and…playing.  Enjoying myself.  But I made sure to have everything put away long before she got home every day.

Things went on like that for a couple of weeks.  Kimmie would be gone all day, then come home and we’d make dinner together.  Eventually though, she started making friends and would go out in the evenings with them.  I was alone more often, but that kind of alone wasn’t the privacy alone that I needed to play in.  It was all so frustrating!  Still, I enjoyed those times when I could play while I knew she would be gone teaching school all day.  I told myself often that that much alone was more than enough for me.

And of course, the more I played, the more my stash of diapers began to go down.  Eventually, I needed to make the decision as to if I should order more or simply pack everything in.  Was it a mistake?  Maybe.  Maybe not.  The jury is still out.  But I did go ahead and place an order for more diapers, both nighttime and daytime, along with more plastic pants to make sure there would be no telltale stains either on the furniture or on my pants in case of a leak…and in case I decided to tempt fate and wear a diaper under my pants while Kimmie was around, which I’m sorry to say I was tempted to do many times, but never actually did.

I’ve known for many years that fate is a fickle thing.  You never know what it’s going to do.  Remember that order I just talked about?  It got delayed somewhere.  I waited, and waited for it.  But for some reason it never arrived.  I tracked it, and I could see it was in a warehouse somewhere not that far away.  They could have it to me in a day!  But it never seemed to arrive.  Kimmie was off teaching school, and I was home playing by myself.  And my package of replacement diapers and plastic pants was stuck somewhere in limbo.

Kimmie didn’t teach school on Saturdays, but she did often have softball practice or games.  I was home one Saturday, doing nothing more than watching TV when I heard, “Gramps!  I’m home!”

I turned and watched her walking in from the garage…with a large box in her arms.  A box I had no doubt in the world what was in it.  My package had arrived, and somehow, she had gotten it.

“I found this blocking the garage,” Kimmie explained as she put the box on the kitchen table.

“I’ll get it,” I told her quickly as I jumped up to grab the thing and hide it away.

But Kimmie wasn’t listening.  She started talking, telling me all about how the practice game went that day while she sliced the tape on the box open with nothing more than a long fingernail.

“Kimmie!  Don’t!”  I said as I hurried over to get the box.

She was still talking.  Still engrossed in whatever happened during that game as she pulled the packing material aside, and she suddenly stopped talking.  “Huh?”

“I’ll take that,” I said as I reached for the box.

But she was standing in front of it, blocking me from getting to it.  I saw her reach in and pull out the packages of pastel colored plastic pants.  She threw them on the table and then started pawing through the packages of diapers.  She turned toward me.  “Gramps?”

“Just leave it be Kimmie,” I told her.  “It’s mine.”

With that, I pushed my way through to the box, put the plastic pants back into it, picked it up, and carried it to my bedroom closet.  Damn!  Of all the luck!

I stayed in my room, sitting on my bed, wondering how I was going to handle that problem.  My plan?  Say nothing and just hope she didn’t say anything about it either.  But that plan didn’t pan out.  It was over the moment she walked into my bedroom.  From the start I had no doubt she would show up there.

“So what’s up Gramps?” she asked.

“Don’t ask Kimmie,” I said.  “Just…don’t ask.  Okay?”

Evidently though, it wasn’t okay.  She came in and sat on the bed next to me.  “Gramps,” she said softly.  “Whatever it is, it’s okay…okay?  Let’s talk.”

Why did women always want to talk about things?  I didn’t.  I said nothing.  I didn’t even look at her.

When I didn’t say anything, she said, “I’m guessing you like that stuff?”

I still said nothing.  Still didn’t look at her.

She waited, giving me a chance to answer before she finally said, “Gramps, it’s okay.  Now, do you like the adult baby stuff?  Are you into that?  Or is it something else?  The stuff in that box wasn’t the usual things you can buy in any drug store for incontinence problems.  From what I saw, it all had pretty cartoon characters on it, and it was made for people who are into the adult baby thing.”

I turned my head skeptically and looked at her.  “Adult baby thing?  How would you know about anything like that?”

“Gramps!  I majored in Physical Education.  Plus, I minored in psychology.  I’ve come across more stuff than you would ever believe.  And believe it or not, the adult baby stuff is a lot more common than most people would think.  So is that all it is?  Because like I said, it’s okay.  You’re allowed.”

“Allowed?” I replied.

“Gramps!  You’re…how old are you now?  Sixty something?  Around seventy?”

“Sixty-nine.  I haven’t reached seventy yet.  Except today I skipped over my seventies and went straight to eighty!  Or ninety!”

She giggled and gave me a brief hug.  “My point is, you’re an adult and…”

“Yeah.  An adult playing at being a baby!”

“So?  Maybe…maybe…”

“Maybe what?” I asked sarcastically.

“Maybe, at your age, it helps you feel…younger.  Does it?”

I considered that.  “Maybe,” I conceded.  I considered it some more.  “Maybe more than I thought.  I never considered it before.”

“At your age, I would think it’s nice to feel a bit younger.”

“Huh!  You have no idea!”

“I know the older people get, the more aches and pains they have to put up with.  The older they get, the lonelier they often feel…and unneeded.”

“Did I just mention that you have no idea?”

She hugged me again, then kissed my cheek.  “Gramps.  I love you.  If you want to play with stuff like that, it’s your business.  Go ahead.  Play all you want.  Feel younger.  Feel better.  Enjoy yourself.  You’re sixty-nine years old for heaven’s sake.  Enjoy yourself.  Heck, since Grams died, I’ve never seen you do anything else to get some enjoyment out of life.”

“You haven’t lived here that long.”

She seemed surprised.  “What else do you do for enjoyment?  Since I’ve been here all you do is sit and exist, day after day.”

“What else do I do?  Plenty!”

“Good.  Like what?”

I considered that, then admitted, “A lot of nothing.  Since Ruthie…Grams passed, I’ve had nobody around and nothing seems worth doing.  And don’t ask me why, but this just…I don’t know.”

“Caught your fancy?”

“Something like that.”

She giggled again.  “Like I said, it’s okay.  Don’t bother hiding it away.  Enjoy it all you want.”

She gave me another hug and another kiss on the cheek then got up and headed for the door.  Before going out she stopped and turned with a mischievous smile on her face.  “By the way,” she said, “I’d die to see one of those diapers on you!”  With a  laugh, she turned and was gone.

She’d die?  How about me?

 

The Next Story – Gramps!

 It may come as a surprise to you, or maybe not, that as far as I can tell from the blog stats that I tend to look at every day (and I must be masochistic to do it) there are only about twelve people who regularly read my posts – worldwide!  Twelve!  That’s it.  And the numbers don’t always go up that high.  Yes, there are a handful of others who check in once in a while and either catch up or simply flip through the pages and stories I have to offer, but the numbers for each individual post seem to reach up to about twelve, and that’s it…if I’m lucky.  And yes, I realize that sometimes it’s the same people coming back to reread or continue reading what they read before, which means the actual number of people who read my stories is probably far less.

Sometimes I look at those statistics and wonder, why do I bother?  And yet, I still write.  I guess, I simply enjoy writing that much, and even more, I simply like my own stories.  But then, if I didn’t, why would I write them?  But just know, all twelve (or so) of you my wonderful, beloved fans out there, that I really do appreciate every single one of you, much more than you can imagine.

Okay, enough of that garbage.  Let’s get down to business here.

As I mentioned before the short shopping nightmare I just posted, while you’ve been reading Extracted, my fingers have been busy typing away at another story (or two, maybe three, not to mention another possible Karen Singer Kindle book that I’m trying to write).  So now it’s time to move on to my next story, and I promise, this one is a doozy!

Once again, we’re going firmly back to the original focus of this blog – humiliation, sissy, and adult baby stuff.  A story that is definitely not safe for work, although your opinion on the matter may be different than mine (nor do I know where you work).

The entire time I was writing this one, my working title for it was simply, Gramps.  For a while I was seriously going to change it for the purpose of the posts to Sissy Baby Gramps, just to make it a bit more clear to anyone who might be thinking about reading it what the story is really all about.  Hopefully from that, you can already tell it’s about sissy stuff.  And yes, it also contains a boatload of adult baby stuff and diapers too.  Maybe more than a boatload.  However!!!  In the end, I decided I like the simple title of Gramps, and so it stays.  If you don’t like it, tough!  It’s my story!

I want to tell you something.  Once in a while, a writer creates something where he has to wonder if what he has created is something special.  Believe it or not, I’m wondering that about this book.  Is it something special?  It  really might be.  But that’s my opinion.  I only know that it was a lot of fun to write, and read, from start to finish, and it has quickly become one of my personal favorite stories.

Just so you know, this story is a rambling mess!  A big time rambling mess!  But that’s what you get when you ask for a story like this.  Oh, you didn’t ask for it.  Sorry, but tough again.  I’m giving it to you anyway.

What’s it about?  Good question.  And you deserve an answer.  I mean, why else would you want to try and decide if you should read it or not?

Okay.  Bill is better known to his entire family as simply, Gramps.  He’s sixty-nine years old and is fairly happy with his life, despite the fact that his wife died several months before.  Then his granddaughter, Kimmie, comes to live with him.  As soon as…  Uh…sorry.  I’m not supposed to tell the entire story here.  That’s what all those chapters I wrote are for.

Anyway.  Sissy stuff.  Tons of sissy baby stuff.  Loving domination.  Etc…etc…etc….  You get the picture (I hope).

Twenty-seven chapters of mayhem…I mean fun sissy stuff (mayhem may be more like it).

So with all that said (which I realize isn’t much), I DARE you to walk in the footsteps of…Gramps.

 

Sissy Shopping Nightmare - Part 4 of 4

 

Sissy Shopping Nightmare

By Karen Singer

 

Part 4 of 4

 

Right on cue, his cat purse gave a ding and he had to stop, put down his package of diapers, and dig the phone out.  Yup!  Message:  You’re looking sooo pretty now.  Those earrings really suit you.  But you’re not done yet.  On the lower level, there’s a store that sells all kinds of things for young girls.  Find this hairbow, buy it, and put it firmly in your hair so that it won’t fall out.  The picture showed a large girl’s hairbow.  Pink…of course.

 

 

He couldn’t believe it.  Couldn’t he just die right here and now?  No!  If he died, then they would kill Jimmy.  He had no doubt in the world about that.  Resigned, he put his phone away, picked up his bag of diapers, and trudged his way through the mall to find the little girl’s store.

Ribbons and bows and necklaces and bracelets and…so many different things.  All of it things that would bring delight to any and every girl on the planet.  Not to him though.  But then he wasn’t a girl.  Especially not a little girl.  Despite how he was dressed.

He had to look around to find the bow.  As he did, the store owner watched him carefully.  And yes, when he walked into the store, she outright laughed at him.  But after that, since he appeared to be looking, she left him alone.

There it was.  He checked the picture.  An exact match.  The darn thing was a bit bigger than he thought it would be.  So be it.  It made no difference, especially in light of everything else he was wearing.  Two minutes later, he had paid for it.  One minute later, he was standing just outside the door, trying to fasten the stupid thing into his hair.

“Can I help you?”

“What?” Bruce gasped, looking around.  The store owner had come out and was standing behind him.

“Can I help you?” she asked again.  There was no doubting the amusement in her eyes.

He was about to tell her no, tell her to go away, but he had already been through enough.  Too much!  “Sure,” he told her.  “I’m supposed to put this in my hair so that it won’t fall out.”

She took it from him.  “Turn around,” she told him.  He did and he felt her doing something with his hair.  He couldn’t really tell what she was doing, but she was doing a lot of pulling.

“Is this for some kind of bet?” she asked.

“No,” he replied.  “More like ransom.”

“Ransom?” she asked.

He remembered then that he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about his son being kidnapped.  And he knew for a fact that they were definitely watching him closely.  Too closely.  In fact, maybe she was one of the watchers.  “Um…never mind.  Maybe I just want to do this.”

“That was another guess,” she told him as she finished.  “There.  All done.  You’re real pretty now.”

“Ha-ha,” he said as he walked away.  He turned back towards her though and said, “Thanks.  I appreciate it.”  Then he turned and kept walking.  He soon realized that with every slight movement of his head, he could feel the trailing ends of the bow moving against his neck.  It was without a doubt, an absolutely maddening feeling.

His phone dinged, but instead of another message, it was another picture.  This time of the back of his head, complete with the large pink hairbow.  Yeah, they were still watching him closely.  He didn’t even bother trying to look around to see who it might be.  Someone was there.  In fact, they were everywhere.  Everywhere and everyone in the entire huge mall.  Or was it the world?

It was longer this time before another message came through to his phone.  Once again he set his bag of diapers down so he could dig the phone from his little girl cat purse.  The message was different:  I can tell you’re getting tired.  You’re almost done with your shopping.  At least as far as what I want you to buy.  When you’re done, you’ll still have to stay there and shop.  Just two more things I want you to buy to complete your pretty new outfit for the new and improved you.  Both of these things are in different jewelry stores.  Find them, buy them, wear them.  The pictures were of a necklace with a shiny pink stone, similar to the ones in his earrings.  The other picture was of a bracelet containing the same pink stones.  Jewelry stores again.  How expensive were they going to be?

 

  

 

There were three or four jewelry stores in the mall.  He walked slowly along the concourse, feeling stupid and totally humiliated while everyone in the world seemed to be noticing him and the way he was dressed.  Was there a cure for his problem?  Yes, a gunshot to his head.  That’s what he would like to do.  But if he did that, it would leave Jimmy alone in the world with no parents at all.

His mind went to thoughts of his dead wife.  Actually, knowing her, she’d probably be laughing her head off at him right now.  Yeah, she would, even though nothing about his situation was funny in the least.  Especially because of what they had done to Jimmy, and what they still might do to him.  Maybe do to them both.

It would actually make more sense if they killed both him and Jimmy.  He prayed they wouldn’t.  He had done everything they had asked of him today.  Everything!  Especially after sending that video of them breaking Jimmy’s finger.  That had been too much.  Too horrible.  Just the thought of it made him sick.  If Jimmy’s finger was forever disfigured or the least bit of trouble at all, he had only himself to blame.  He had no doubt that Jimmy would blame him too.

A jewelry store.  Hip, hip hooray.  Even though he felt no sense of happiness at all.  He went in and looked all around, but didn’t see the necklace or the bracelet.  Of course not.  It couldn’t be that easy.  More than likely they would be in stores as far from him as they could get, just so he’d have to parade himself past as many people as possible.

It was twenty minutes before he found the necklace.  He paid for it, then right there in the store, he tried to put it on.  The woman who had helped him took the necklace from him and fastened it around his neck for him.  She couldn’t seem to stop giggling the entire time she did it.  He didn’t blame her, even though it wasn’t funny in the least.  “Thanks,” he told her gratefully.  When she suggested he look in the mirror so he could see the necklace on him, he had declined.  “No thanks,” he said.  He knew it would be bad.  It might actually look nice, but no matter what, in this situation it would still be bad.  He still had to find a bracelet.

The bracelet was in the next jewelry store he came to.  Once again, after buying it, he struggled to fasten the damn thing around his wrist, and the saleswoman helped him.  He didn’t need a mirror to see the bracelet.  It just flopped around on his wrist, moving every time he moved his hand.

He walked back out into the mall concourse.  According to the last message, he was done.  No more messages, no more shopping.  No more buying humiliating things to add to all the humiliating things he was already wearing.  He was done.  Except he wasn’t.  They wouldn’t be picking him up until nine thirty tonight.  He still had hours to spend walking around the mall feeling humiliated.

He was actually surprised when his phone dinged again.  He put down the bag of diapers and dug the phone out of his cat purse.  No picture this time, just words:  Go back to the food court and get yourself something to eat and a large drink.  Sit at one of the tables.  Finish everything.

It was maybe one of the easiest things they had asked him to do.  He hadn’t eaten anything all day, but the way he felt, he doubted he could eat.  Still, he didn’t want to take any chance at all that they might hurt Jimmy more than they already had.  Resigned, he wandered his way back to the food court.  He stood in line and grabbed a single slice of pizza and a large drink.  He managed to carry it all to a table where he sat down.

He looked at the drink in the huge cup.  No doubt they wanted him to wet the stupid diaper he was wearing again.  How bad would the thing be then?  It had been a misery all day.  He had a feeling it was soon going to be even worse.

He took two bites of the pizza when he heard a sound from the phone inside his cat purse.  A different sound.  He dug the phone out and realized that instead of a message, someone was actually calling to talk.  “Hello?”

“Oohh.  Don’t you look sooo pretty now,” a woman’s voice crooned teasingly.  “Did you enjoy yourself all day?  Do you love the outfit we picked out for you?  We went to a lot of trouble to put it all together for you.”

“No.”

The woman laughed.  “Too bad!” she said sternly.  “That was the point.  Maybe now you’ve had just a little taste of what your son did to someone else.”

“What?” Bruce begged.  “Who?”

“Your son Jimmy and his friends beat up the son of the woman who hired us.  They beat him badly, then they stripped him naked, put a diaper on him, put a dress on him, and paraded him all around the school, before beating him again so badly that he wound up in psychiatric care, where he’s still traumatized.”

“My Jimmy did that?”

“Yes, you moron!  Your Jimmy!  And we punished you too because as his father, you should have raised him better, so he’d know better than to do anything like that.  So it’s not just his fault, but yours as well.”

“I…I didn’t know,” Bruce admitted.  “I had no idea.”

“Of course not, because you’re a bad parent!  Actually, you’re lucky.  The boy’s mother wanted us to kill your son and you too.  But instead, she hired us to punish you both.  Since you behaved, you both will live, but we doubt you’ll ever forget this.”

“Who was the boy?” Bruce asked.  “Who was the mother.  I want to apologize.”

“No!  You’ll never know.  There can never be the slightest chance that we can be traced.  We made sure of it.  We just decided that after what your son did to the other boy, this was the best punishment for you both.  He got beaten to within an inch of his life, and you got the humiliation that he experienced when they paraded him past all his classmates in the school.”

“But…I never knew,” Bruce told her.  “I had no idea!”

“Because you’re a bad parent!” she told him.  “Nine thirty!” she said.  “Stay in that mall and shop and accept your punishment until nine thirty.  Then the van will be back to pick you up.”

“And you’ll take me to Jimmy?  And then home?”

He got no answer.  The line was dead.

Jimmy…his son…had beat up another kid, and humiliated him badly?  It just didn’t sound like something his son would do.  But evidently, he did.  If so, then the woman was right, he was a bad parent.  He hadn’t taught his son well enough at all, and he hadn’t had a clue what his son had really been up to.

He finished his slice of pizza and sat there sipping on his large drink until it was gone.  He got up, threw the trash into one of the trash cans, grabbed the big awkward bag of diapers in one hand, and the little girl cat purse in his other hand, and began walking again.

He felt like such a fool, but now he knew that he deserved it.  But his son didn’t deserve the kind of beating they had given him.  He didn’t deserve to have his finger nearly ripped off.  His Jimmy may have done something bad, but he didn’t deserve that kind of treatment at all.  Whoever these people were, they belonged in jail!

 

--- §§§§§§§§§§ ---

 

Phyllis watched Bruce slowly walking through the mall.  He looked a sight, even though the outfit she had put together for him was actually quite pretty, and it…almost suited him.  She had spoken to him in such a way that he would think it was someone else who had hired her to do this to him and his son.  He would never know that in reality, it was her son Jason who Jimmy had beaten and humiliated so badly.

The police would never find them.  Neither she nor any of her friends would ever be caught and punished for what they had done today.  They had been that careful about everything.

“Phyllis,” Larry said.  “Jason’s here.”

“Let him in,” she replied.

A moment later, her son walked into the room.  “Hello Darling,” she greeted him happily.  She hugged him tightly.  “How are you?”

“Fine Mom,” he told her.  “Did you do it?  Did you punish him?”

“Oh yes!” she replied.

“Can I see?”

“Yes,” she told him.  “But be prepared.  In order to make sure he’d remember this and never bully anyone again, we had to beat him really badly.  Jason, I’m afraid he looks…disturbing.  Very disturbing.  He’s going to need a hospital when we let him go.”

“I don’t care!  I’m glad!  I want to see him.”

She nodded, then turned to Larry.  “Put Jimmy up on the main monitor.”

The picture on the large screen that had been showing the mall was replaced with a picture coming from the camera in a nearby room.  It showed Jimmy, still tied to the chair.  His head hung limply.  There was blood everywhere.  If you looked closely, you could see the broken finger and the strange angle it was at.

Jason looked closely.  “Who’s that?” he asked.

“That’s Jimmy now,” Phyllis told her son.  “The one who did all that to you.  He just looks a lot different now because of the beating we gave him.”

Jason looked closer.  “Uh Mom.  That’s not Jimmy Falco.  That’s Jimmy Falletti.  He’s one of the good kids.  He’s one of my friends.”

Phyllis was shocked.  “That’s not the kid who bullied you?  You said Jimmy Falco.”

“Yeah.  But that’s not him.”

She looked at the man on the mall’s security video.  “And that’s not Jimmy Falco’s father?”

“Mom, the only time I saw Falco’s father, he was a big hairy guy with a beard.”

Phyllis looked back and forth from the screen showing Jimmy who had been beaten so badly, to another monitor showing the boy’s father Bruce.  She had kidnapped and punished the wrong kid.  She had kidnapped and punished the wrong father.

“Oh shit!” she muttered.

“Mom,” Jason said.  “What are you going to do?  Jimmy Falletti is my friend.”

“I don’t know,” Phyllis replied.  She turned to Larry.  “Shut it down…now!  Shut it all down and pack it all up.  We’ve got to get out of here.”

There was sudden commotion everywhere as everything in all the rooms was shut down, packed away, and removed from the building.  As they were finishing, Phyllis pulled her phone out again and dialed the only number that phone had ever contacted.

 

--- §§§§§§§§§§ ---

 

Bruce was very annoyed when once again his phone rang.  He had to set down the big package of diapers again, and dig into his cat purse to pull the thing out.  “Yeah?” he said into the phone.

“Bruce,” the woman’s voice came urgently.  “I’m so sorry.  We just found out that we kidnapped and punished the wrong people.  It wasn’t your son who did the damage, it was another Jimmy.  We’ll be gone from here in a minute.  As soon as were away I’ll phone the police and an ambulance for your Jimmy.  I’m afraid you’ll have to make whatever arrangements for yourself that you can.  This phone I have will be destroyed so it can’t ever be traced.  Nobody will ever be able to trace us.  Again, we apologize for our mistake.  Oh, you might want to change that diaper before you do anything else.  It appears to be sagging a bit.  Just a thought.  Sorry again Bruce.”

Bruce was stunned.  The wrong Jimmy?  All of this was…a mistake?  At least whoever it was said they were going to call the police and an ambulance.  But what was he going to do now about himself?  He realized something, yeah, changing his diaper might not be a bad start.  He ran back to the food court and the men’s room there.  Five minutes later, he came out wearing a fresh diaper and feeling much better.  The only thing on his mind was getting to the hospital to see Jimmy.  But how?  A cab?  Uber?  The police?  He grabbed the phone and called a cab company.

As he waited outside of the mall for the cab, he couldn’t help it.  After that large drink he had consumed, he wet his fresh diaper.  Shit!  Now the damn thing would show under his dress again.  Damn!  But he was still going to the hospital first.  He was still going to see his Jimmy.  Getting to his injured son was all he could think about.  Telling Jimmy how much he loved him was the most important thing in the world that he could do.

To hell with the way he was dressed.  His son was all that mattered.

 

Sissy Shopping Nightmare - Part 3 of 4

 

Sissy Shopping Nightmare

By Karen Singer

 

Part 3 of 4

 

Once his old clothes were discarded, along with any dignity he might have once had, he wandered slowly out of the food court.  As expected, his phone dinged again.  The message simply said:  See how pretty?  It was the picture though that concerned him the most.  The picture was of him walking through the food court, wearing the dress.  He really, really wanted to throw that phone at someone.  He looked all around, but still couldn’t figure out who might be watching him…other than everyone in the mall.

Once again his phone dinging made him cringe.  What now?  He read the message and couldn’t believe it.  The picture accompanying it didn’t even matter.  It was all…ridiculous!  Stupid!  And…unnerving.

The message read:  Go to the drug store on the bottom level and buy a package of adult diapers.  The picture of course was of a package of diapers.

 

 

He was wearing a dress.  He was wearing little girl shoes and socks.  He was wearing a bra.  Now…diapers?  It was too much!  Way too much!  At least they had told him where to find the damn things.  He trudged himself downstairs while it seemed like every person in the mall was looking at him.  He went into the drug store and had to look around to find the damn things.  There!  The easiest thing to find yet…except for maybe the damn bra he was wearing.

“Lovely dress,” the woman at the cash register said as she laughed at the sight of him.  He was tempted to hit her too, but he didn’t.  He simply walked out of the store with a large bag that contained the package of diapers.  At least they were in a bag, but he knew for sure now what would happen next.  Just a few steps out of the store, the phone dinged again and he dug it out of the little girl purse.  Yeah.  No surprise.  Back to the same men’s room in the food court, and put one of the damn diapers on.  And whoever had sent the message had emphasized that he couldn’t pee until he was wearing the diaper.

He didn’t want to do it.  He really didn’t want to do it.  But then, he didn’t want to wear anything of what he had on.  None of it.  Someone was really, really sick!  What was the purpose of all this anyway?  What had his son Jimmy done?  He had no clue, and no answers.  And the food court was so far away from the damn pharmacy.  It was a long humiliating walk, wearing a very noticeable and embarrassing dress, carrying a large heavy package, and of course his cat purse.

Doing his best to ignore the looks from everyone in the mall, he walked into the men’s room again.  Just going in made his need to pee grow that much worse.  It was getting difficult, but he held it.  Once again he went into one of the stalls and closed the door.  He opened the package of diapers and pulled one out…and stopped.  He couldn’t.  He just couldn’t!  It was too much.  All of it was to much.  What had Jimmy done?  But the images in his mind of what they had already done to Jimmy were simply beyond imagining.  Right there and then, he began crying.  His body slipped down until he was sitting on the floor with his back up against the wall of the stall.  He could do nothing but sit there…and cry.  Why did they have to hurt his son?  Why?  And why did they have to do this to him?

He had been sitting and crying for some time when his phone signaled another text message.  He almost ignored it, but he dug into his purse to pull the phone out anyway.  He read the message:  It looks like you’re getting the picture now, but no more lollygagging in there.  You’ve got five minutes to get that diaper on and get out of there or your son is going to get hurt.  Five minutes…and I’ve already started the timer.

Five minutes?  He needed to move.  He needed to…  But he couldn’t.  It was all too much!  It would be too much for anyone.  He sat there and started crying all over again.

He didn’t know how long he sat there before the phone dinged again.  There was just a very short message:  Five minutes again.  This time instead of a picture, he found a video.  He watched in absolute horror as someone took a pair of pliers to the little finger on Jimmy’s hand, and with a sickening sudden twist, and a loud snap, Jimmy started screaming his head off in pain.  Jimmy’s finger was broken and left at an impossible angle.  And then the pliers moved to his next finger before the video ended.

No!  No!  They had hurt Jimmy even worse.  They didn’t need to do that!  Why?  Why?  Why?  Sobbing, he forced himself to his feet.  He pulled his underwear off under his dress.  The diaper was a bit difficult to figure out, but he finally managed it.  With tears still streaming down his face, he hurried out of the stall and hurried out past everyone in the bathroom.  All the way out into the food court, where his damn phone sounded off again.

With the big bag of diapers in his hand, he had to stop and put the bag down so he could dig the phone out of his cat purse.  He read the message:  Throw your old underwear in the trash but keep the diapers, then pull up the hem of your dress and turn around slowly in a complete circle so the watchers can all see your diaper.  Wet yourself first if you can.  Otherwise, you’ll be doing the same thing later to show what you did.  You may be doing it later anyway.

Now they wanted him to wet his diaper like…  Damn he hated this.  He needed to pee.  There was no doubt about that.  Not after spending so much time right next to a toilet in the men’s room.

He did his best to soak his diaper.  It wasn’t easy, but he managed it.  As he stood there, he felt an entire warm lake beginning to form on the inside of his diaper.  He was amazed that the thing didn’t leak.  When it was over, he took a hesitant step, then another.  He chanced walking carefully over to the trash can where he dug his old underwear out of the bag and threw it into the trash.  He now had literally nothing left of what he had been wearing when he had arrived.  Nothing!

As instructed.  He lifted the hem of his dress and slowly turned in a complete circle.  People were watching him and laughing at him from everywhere.  It was impossible to tell who the watchers might be, other than literally everyone in the mall.  That’s who was watching him.  Everyone!

Red faced and full of shame, he let go of the hem of his dress and picked up the bag that contained the diapers.  He took a step away from the food court, then another.  The flood inside his diaper had mostly disappeared, but he could easily feel how much thicker his diaper was now.  He could also feel it sagging a bit between his legs.  He stopped as the realization hit him.  Everyone would now be able to see the diaper below the hem of his dress.  Shit!  Things just kept getting worse and worse.

His phone dinged again and he stopped so he could read the next bit of bad news…although he knew there was nothing they could do to him that would matter anymore.  The only thing that mattered was to keep Jimmy from getting hurt worse than he already was.  It was the same game he had been playing all day now.  But they had proven that they wouldn’t hesitate in the least to dish out more punishment if he didn’t comply immediately.

He stared at the new message and the picture that accompanied it.  Oh joy.  The message read:  Go back to the pharmacy and buy this nail polish.  He looked at the picture.  Yeah, it would be.  The polish appeared to be sparkly pink.  Probably something a young girl would choose instead of an adult.

 

 

He felt like he was walking most of the length of the mall once again as he made his way back to the pharmacy.  As he walked, there was no missing the feel of his soaked and sagging diaper.  There was also no missing the fact that everyone in the mall was looking at him.  The dress he was wearing was enough of a statement to make sure of it.  He did his best to ignore everyone in the mall.  He had little choice in that.

Ten minutes after walking into the pharmacy, he was heading back to the food court with new instructions:  Go back to the food court, sit at a table, and polish your nails.  Two coats.  Don’t mess it up and make sure it’s dry before you do anything else.

Yeah right.  No surprise.  And of course, he would be stuck painting his nails in front of everyone in the world.  Or close to it.

He wasn’t walking fast anymore.  He just couldn’t.  He was too unhappy.  Too ashamed.  The lunch hour was mostly over but there were still a lot of people in the food court.  He chose a table and sat down.  He set his cat purse on the table along with his bag of diapers.  He removed the nail polish from the small bag the pharmacy had put it in.  He looked at it.  Yeah, it was still just as sparkly pink as it  was in the store before he bought it.

He shook the bottle then removed the cap and looked at the applicator brush.  He had to be careful not to drip the polish on the table.  Hating what he was about to do, he wiped some of the polish on the brush back into the bottle, then spread the fingers of his left hand out on the table, and brushed the polish on his thumb nail.  Sparkly pink.  Very sparkly pink.  Even with just that much, nobody in the world could miss it.  He kept going, finishing the entire large nail.  Just looking at it made him feel squeamish.  Not wanting Jimmy to get hurt, he kept going.  On to the next finger and eventually on to his other hand.

After two coats, he carefully screwed the cap back onto the bottle and kept his fingers spread wide on the table.  How long did it take for nail polish to dry?  His fingernails looked just as wet now as when he had applied the stuff.  He glanced at the clock, then decided to give it fifteen minutes.  When the time was up, he gingerly touched his finger to one of the nails.  Nothing happened.  He was hoping it was dry.

Still trying to be careful in case his hands weren’t completely dry, he stuck the nail polish into his cat purse, got up, and threw the small bag it had come in into the trash.  He went back to the table to get his things, and his phone rang.  Were the damn messages never going to end?  He guessed no.  Not until they picked him up tonight.  Would they let him go home then?  More importantly, how about Jimmy?  After breaking his finger, Jimmy needed a hospital more than ever.

Still being careful of the polish on his nails, he dug the phone out of his silly purse.  The message and accompanying picture were easy to find.  What they wanted wasn’t easy to stomach:  Go to Fey’s Fine Jewelry.  Ask for Fey.  The message was bad enough, but the picture told the rest of the story.  The picture showed a pair of pink stud earrings.

 

 

Where the heck was Fey’s Fine Jewelry?  Probably as far from the food court as they could put it.

The walk turned out to be another long one, probably purposely, just to put him on display in front of as many people as possible.  Fey turned out to be an older woman who made it plain right from the start that she didn’t like him.  Bruce wondered what they had told her about him.  He himself wanted to know what someone’s problem with him was.

“Come along,” Fey told him briskly.  A few minutes later, not Fey, but another woman was installing pink stud earrings into his freshly pierced ears.  When they showed him the earrings, he recognized them as a perfect match to the ones in the picture.  After the earrings were in, he got to look in the mirror.  Yeah.  Pink sparkles.  Pink, pink, on top of pink.  Little girl pink.

  He considered himself lucky that the bill for the jewelry wasn’t as much as he thought it would be.  He was simply glad to get out of there, but not glad when he remembered that his phone would probably ring soon with another message for him.