Gramps - Chapter 18

 

Gramps

By Karen Singer

 

Chapter 18

 

Ah, the pleasures of clothes.  Ah, the pleasure of wearing comfortable shoes.  Ah, the priceless pleasure of secretly wearing a diaper under those clothes, especially when it’s a little bit wet.  Um…not so much pleasure when it’s got a mess inside of it too.  That part I could certainly do without.

As usual, Kimmie and I left the house again on Sunday to do our weekly grocery shopping.  Were we becoming too set in our routine?  Too predictable?  I’m sure the people who did their weekly shopping at the same time and place we did were sick of seeing us there.  And believe me, they couldn’t miss us.  Not to mention, I was starting to see that recognition on the faces of many of the people we saw.

Once again Kimmie had dressed me in a skirt outfit.  This time though, the skirt was one that I had bought the day before, and believe me, it was a very short skirt outfit.  The other skirt she had made me buy was just as short.  I was also wearing a pair of those silly, frilly, sissy socks and those little girl shoes instead of heels.  No hair ribbons, but from somewhere she found a few plastic hairclips that she managed to stick in my hair.  Dumb!  But at least they weren’t as noticeable as the ribbons.

Twice while we were there I had the distinct displeasure of hearing those fateful words, “Hi Miss Kim.”  Students.  Girls as usual.  Ugh!  Fortunately, both times the girls simply said hi, told Kimmie how funny I looked.  Laughed over me a bit, then moved on.  Yeah, while they did it, sucking on my pacifier was more important to me than ever.

The drink aisle was one of the most important parts of the store for Kimmie.  I guess since she was a phys ed teacher, she had a thing for sports drinks.  I guessed that she thought they were at least somewhat nutritious, plus, she seemed to love the way they tasted.  Trust me, every week we loaded the bottom of the cart with plenty of them.  The biggest problem for me with them was that so many of them wound up in my baby bottles every day, and those drinks kept me peeing too much.  So much, that I barely realized I was doing it anymore.

Don’t ask me why I did it.  I know now that I shouldn’t have, but at the time it just happened.  I made the mistake of pulling my baby pacifier from my mouth and asking, “Do we have to buy so many every week?”

Kimmie looked at me.  “What are you complaining about?  We share the costs of everything, plus, you wind up drinking a lot of these things too.  And you know they’re a lot better for you than soda.  And Gramps, I’m not buying you beer!”

Oh, the stupid things that come out of my mouth.  “Yeah,” I said, “but I drink too many of those drinks every day, and it all winds up in my diaper.”

She looked at me strangely, then kept stocking the cart with the usual overly generous amount.  I stuck my baby pacifier back in my mouth without being told.  End of that story…I guessed wrongly.

The baby aisle was a few aisles later.  We didn’t usually buy anything there anymore.  But Kimmie seemed to be spending more time than usual looking at things.  This time however I was surprised when she grabbed another baby bottle and stuck it in the cart.  I groaned, my groan however came out more as, “Mmmm,” because of that darn baby pacifier.  That would make six baby bottles I would have to get through every day now.

I was more surprised to note that Kimmie was continuing to look at things there.  I think all the time she spent looking at baby food was only meant to tease me…I hoped.  I was grateful when she didn’t buy any.  But then she suddenly looked back at me behind the cart.  “You think you drink too much of those good sports drinks?”

I pulled my paci out.  “Yes!” I told her.

She nodded.  “No problem,” she said.  Then I watched as she plucked a large can of powdered baby formula from the shelf, and with great delight, and a look of absolute wickedness in her eyes, put it in the cart.  Oh yeah, I should have kept my big mouth shut!

Oh, and yes, Kimmie made me carry that stupid purse of mine all over the store too.  And this time, instead of her paying for the groceries since she was the adult, she gave me the pleasure of pulling my credit card from my purse and paying.  I think the cashier got a big kick out of seeing me do that.  As for me, I was simply embarrassed.

Once again when we got home, I was pleasantly surprised to realize that she wasn’t going to make me remove my skirt so my diaper would be on display.  Even after changing me in the afternoon, she kept me dressed just as I was.  I didn’t dare let on that once again I was in absolute heaven.  As far as Kimmie was concerned, I wanted her to think I hated it!  Please don’t tell her otherwise.

That day though, there were two more weird changes to my life.

“Gramps,” Kimmie said that afternoon, shortly after she finished changing me out of my overly messy diaper.  “You don’t get enough rest for someone your age.”

I was shocked.  So shocked I pulled the plug from my mouth.  “Kimmie, you’re putting me to bed at eight-thirty every night now.  I get a lot more sleep than I used to.  Too much sleep.”

She shook her head.  “No Gramps.  Someone your age should really be taking a nap every afternoon.”

“But I don’t need…”

“Gramps!” she cut me off quickly.  “Babies need naps every day.  At least one.”

Babies?  I thought she was talking about me being as old as I am.  I mean as old as I really was.  Sixty-nine.  But it seemed she wasn’t.  Like it or not, I got put to bed shortly after my afternoon diaper change, and she herself stuck that dumb soft bear under my arm so I could hold it and “love on it.”  Yeah right.  A couple of minutes later, she brought me another bottle of warm milk to “help me sleep.”

I didn’t exactly sleep, but I did lay there for what seemed like an eternity.  I know it took the usual amount of time for me to drink that bottle of warm milk, but that time it seemed like I managed it far too quickly.  With my bottle done and nothing to do, since I couldn’t sleep, I debated if I should just get out of bed.  In fact, I was just about to get up, when Kimmie walked back into my room.

“Still awake?” she said in a soft whisper.

“I can’t sleep,” I told her.  “I’m getting up.”

“No!  Stay!  I’ll tell you when you can get out of that bed.”  She came over and grabbed my baby bottle from the nightstand, then she stuck my pacifier back in my mouth.  “Hold your teddy bear Gramps.  Cuddle with him and try to sleep,” she whispered.  “Love you.”  With that, she walked out.

Stay in bed?  Cuddle the bear?  She was nuts!  How many times had I realized that fact?  How many times had I seen the proof of it for myself?  Too many times to count!  I spent an eternity laying there with that pacifier in my mouth, trying to figure out why I wasn’t just getting out of bed, despite what Kimmie wanted.  The biggest reason?  Something about what she was doing with me struck a chord of excitement within my brain.  She was treating me like a toddler.  Like a baby.  And yes, I didn’t want her to know it, but it was fulfilling my fantasies.  And then there was the other reason I stayed in bed.  The bigger reason.  I was afraid of what she might do to me if I disobeyed.  Thoughts of having the inside of my nose crushed to death and being semi-permanently attached by my nose to that corner came to mind.  Just remembering those punishments had me wetting my diaper in fear.

So I stayed in bed and took a nap.  I just didn’t sleep.  Uh…it was a while before I realized I was still holding that stupid bear.  When I did realize it, I tossed it aside.  A few minutes later, I grabbed it again.  It wasn’t exactly hurting anything, and I needed the comfort as images of being attached by my nose to the corner kept playing in my imagination.  I hugged the bear, and sucked my pacifier, and as I mentioned, wet my diaper.

An hour!  A full hour!  That’s how long Kimmie kept me laying uselessly in that bed.  I know because I checked the clock often.  I also fumed at how long she was keeping me there.  But don’t think she left me completely alone.  I  barely noticed it, but I saw her just peek in at me a few times, so she knew I was still in bed.  She also knew I was wide awake.  Yet still, she kept me there.  A full hour!  It felt like forever.

Finally though, she came back and let me out of bed.  I can’t tell you how glad I was.  Except, as I was getting out of bed she said, “Gramps, don’t stand up.”

Huh?  I sat on the side of the bed and just looked at her.  I was aware for once that I was sucking my pacifier.  Very often I didn’t even realize it was in my mouth anymore.

“I want you to get down on the floor instead,” she told me.

I started to ask a question, but I got no more than, “Eh,” out of my mouth before I realized it was too full of baby pacifier to say anything.  I started to remove the thing, but Kimmie was quicker.

“No Gramps.  Don’t argue.  Don’t ask.  Just get down on the floor…and stay there.”

Instead of getting down, I pointed at the floor.

“Yes,” Kimmie replied to my non-asked question.  “On the floor.  I know you think it’s not the best place for someone your age to be, but trust me, it’ll be fine.  And if you need help getting up later, you know I’ll help you.  So go Gramps.  Down.  Now!”

I didn’t know why she wanted me on the floor.  Perhaps just to make me crawl around like a baby, which I realized would be hell on my knees.  I carefully let my body slip off the side of the bed as I lowered it to the carpeted floor.

“Now you can come out to the living room,” she said.  “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

A surprise?  And obviously I was right, she did want me to crawl around like a baby.  Ugh!  My poor knees.  I saw her grab my teddy bear from the bed before she walked out.  As for me, I crawled out…slowly and carefully.  Yeah, at my age, crawling is not the greatest activity in the world, but it can certainly be done.  One really good thing about being on the floor though, I didn’t have to worry so much about falling.  If I fell, how far could I go?  A whole nowhere.  I was already down.  Falling, a real fear for someone my age, including for me, was now impossible.

Once I got to the living room though, it took me no time to spot the “surprise.”  There was a large, colorful…something on the floor that was obviously made for a young toddler to play with.  I recognized it as whatever had been in that big box she had decided on in the toy store the day before.  It looked like now she wanted me to actually play with the thing…whatever it was.

“Look how pretty it is,” Kimmie said excitedly as she set my teddy bear down next to it.  “See how colorful.”

Yeah, it was certainly that?  I just wasn’t sure what else it was because it seemed to have a lot of parts.

“Don’t you just want to play with it and see what it can do?”

Nope!  Somehow, I didn’t think that was exactly the answer Kimmie would be looking for though.  I rolled my eyes…

“Don’t roll your eyes at me Gramps!” Kimmie said sternly.  “Now crawl over there like a good baby and start playing.”

I felt so stupid!  But I made my way over on my painful hands and knees.  Once there, I sat on the floor and stared at the…contraption.  I noticed a lot of buttons on the base of the thing.  Some shaped like stars, some shaped like moons, and some big ones that were like fat piano keys.  But that was just the base of the unit.  Two fat round columns on each side suspended a bar between them that was filled with colorful…uh…shapes that I guess I…I mean a kid…okay, me…I could spin around or something.  I guessed.  I wasn’t entirely sure about the purpose of stuff that could spin like that.  In fact, I wasn’t sure about the purpose of anything about the…um…contraption.

“Now play with it,” Kimmie told me.  I noticed a hint of excitement in her voice.  Why?

Play with it?  As I stared at the thing, I wondered if it would be better if I just went back and took another nap.  I wasn’t sure which was the better option, nap or…that thing.  But the nap option had already been done and was now out of the equation, which left…that…whatever it was.  I looked up questioningly at Kimmie.

“Play!” she urged…or ordered.  I’m not sure which.  Then she followed it up with, “And act interested for a change.  It won’t kill you.  It won’t even hurt you.  And who knows, you just might have some fun.  In fact, I want you to try to have fun.  I want you to really enjoy it.  This toy is you Gramps.  A baby.  And babies like to explore things.  Especially big colorful things like this.  See what it can do Gramps, and have some fun.”

Fun?  Did she realize I was in reality sixty-nine years old?  Did she realize that someone at my age no longer knew how to play…let alone play with something like that.  Didn’t she realize that actual baby concepts were no longer even comprehensible to someone of my age?  I guess not.

I was skeptical, but I tentatively reached out and pressed one of the big fat keyboard keys to see what it would do.  I heard a cow moo.  I looked up at Kimmie.

“Keep playing,” she told me.  “And don’t stop until I say you can stop.  Got it?  Stay there and play.”

With that, she walked off toward the kitchen, and I was left alone with…the Frankenstein of all toddler toys.

“I don’t hear you playing!” Kimmie’s voice called from the kitchen.

I reached out and touched another of those fat keys.  A chicken clucked.  Oh goody.

I started pushing buttons and was shortly flabbergasted by the number of different things that stupid looking thing could do.  Some of the buttons controlled the fat buttons and changed the sounds to musical pitches.  Others changed the keys so they produced either saying things, or like one did, emitted laughter.  I accidentally bumped one of the spinning shapes and heard a tiny tingling sound.  Darn, even the spinning thingies on top made noise.  All of them different.

I am not going to admit this, but I explored that thing for a good five to ten minutes, marveling at all the sounds and abilities someone had packed into the thing.  But after that bit of experimentation, I was finished.  I already knew now what it could do.  Once you reach that point, you don’t need to explore things any further.  Didn’t I hear once that kids had a short attention span?  Well, I wasn’t a kid, not really, but my attention span with that thing had run out!

I did nothing but sit and stare at the thing, then stare at the TV that I’d much rather be “playing with,” like from the confines of my comfy chair, including my nice soft fleece blanket that I liked to throw over me.

“I said play!” Kimmie’s voice came sternly.

I looked up to see her standing at the entrance to the kitchen, watching me.

“And keep playing!” she threatened.

Ugh!  How?  How do you play?  Especially with something like that.  I reached out and pressed something, and a childlike voice asked me, “Isn’t this fun?”  Nope!  Not in the least.  Since Kimmie seemed to be watching, or more likely listening so closely for what I was doing, I reached out and my finger spun one of the colorful shapes.  It emitted a whistling noise.  What fun.  What fun.  What fun.  Nope, I wasn’t bored to death.  I was already dead.

Darn Kimmie kept me on the floor, “playing” uselessly, until I suddenly heard an old familiar ding.  “Video time!” Kimmie’s voice announced.  I was just happy to be able to stop mindlessly touching that awful monster of a toy.  Trust me, I was more than anxious to get to my feet, which I did with no assistance from her, although she hovered over me, ready to help at the least sign that I needed it.

I spent a minute trying to poop in my diaper like I did every hour, then I spent the next twenty minutes holding my phone too close to my face while I sucked away on my pacifier.  If I thought I was bored playing with that lousy toy, it was nothing like I felt then.  First bored playing on the floor, then bored videoing my face for Kimmie’s amusement.  I was bored to death.

As soon as the video time was done with, Kimmie found me and said, “Exercise time Gramps.  Get your sneakers on.”

Sneakers.  The pink sneakers that were still bright pink, but after walking around the yard so many times now were nowhere near as bright (or clean) as they used to be.  Still, I was very happy to stop doing so many extremely boring things and do something else for a change, even if it meant having to wear myself out walking the yard with her.

A few minutes later, I was wearing my bright pink sneakers, and…I discovered that somehow Kimmie’s rapidly failing brain had slipped yet another important cog.  Before heading out the door, she pressed that teddy bear into my hands.

“Here Gramps,” she said.  “Hold this while we walk.  I’m sure you’ll like that.  All little girls like to carry their dolls and stuffed animals around with them.”

The question now arose in my head – should I hit her, or just throw the stupid teddy bear at her?  I did neither of course.  Bear in hand, I walked more than one and a half laps around the yard, finally having to trek the length of the yard back to the house.  I wasn’t breathing as heavy as I used to, but trust me, my legs were very tired by then.  Or were my legs worn out from having to sit on the floor and “play” with that stupid baby toy for so long?  Oh!  Of course…I was so worn out because I had to bear the weight of a bear in my arms while I walked.  Do you know how much a bear weighs?  A lot.  It’s amazing I managed it.  No matter the reason, I was done in.

Shortly after getting back in the house, Kimmie announced that dinner was ready, and I soon realized that the cog that had broken in her brain had done more damage than I thought.  Instead of putting that stupid teddy bear down so I could eat, she insisted that I keep it with me all through dinner.

“You need to learn to hold things like that more.  Keep it with you,” she told me.

She had to be kidding.  Keep it with me?  Why?

Um…do you have any idea how awkward it is to try and keep a teddy bear in your lap while you’re trying to eat, and not let it drop on the floor?  Yeah, I dropped the thing twice, and both times, instead of me picking it up, Kimmie got up and picked it up for me, as if I was really a baby.  And each time, she seemed to take great delight in handing it back to me so I could hold it while I was still trying to eat.

You want to know the strangest thing?  It wasn’t having to drink my milk from a baby bottle while I ate.  No, I did that all the time lately.  But having to hold onto that soft stuffed animal like that, at the table, while eating, seemed to make me feel smaller than ever.  Yeah, me, sixty-nine years old, felt like a stupid toddler.  All because of a dumb teddy bear.

I wet my diaper just thinking about that.

That night, when Kimmie put me to bed, I was shocked when I put the baby bottle to my lips and began drinking.  I almost spit out the milk…which I realized wasn’t milk at all.  It was baby formula.  Warm baby formula.  Guess what I got every night from that point on.  Formula!  I didn’t enjoy going to bed nearly as much anymore.

 

Gramps - Chapter 17

 

Gramps

By Karen Singer

 

Chapter 17

 

Life is a series of forks in the road.  Decisions that have to be made.  Paths to be decided on.  According to the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland, if you don’t know where you want to go, what difference does it make which path you take?  But of course, the truth is that it can make a lot of difference.

Months ago now, before Kimmie came to live with me, I made a decision as to which path I wanted to take, now look where that path had led me.  Was it the right path, or not?  I absolutely wasn’t certain.  Yes, there were things I liked…loved actually, but there were also a lot of things I didn’t want.  Too many things I didn’t want.  Things that scared me.  And those things seemed to be increasing in number.

I no longer seemed to have any choice at all as to which fork in the road I could take.  Kimmie had managed to take all that away from me.  She was the one in charge and I had no choice but to go along with her in whichever direction she decided to go.  Did she have some kind of map she was following to get us somewhere?  I often wondered, but never asked.  Did she have some kind of goal in mind?  Some final destination that we might eventually reach?  Again, I was too afraid to ask.  I just followed whichever way she decided to turn.  Whichever path she decided to take.

Maybe it was just that I was old and she was young and had more energy to make those decisions than I did.  I don’t know.  It was her journey, but more than that, it was my journey too.  Our journey together.

The change was subtle.  Slow.  Maybe it wasn’t so much a change as a shift.  I’m not certain, but the differences were there.  I didn’t even realize it was happening for a while, but eventually things were different enough that I couldn’t help but notice.  And as close as I can come, it all started somewhere around the first week of November.

I was sitting in my chair again, watching TV, happy for that rare opportunity when I wouldn’t be disturbed for a few precious minutes.  But I was disturbed.  By Kimmie.  As she had done a number of times before, she was suddenly there, forcing herself into my lap.  I pulled the plug from my mouth, knowing she wanted to talk.  I could only hope it was about ending this farce of a life I was now living.  Nope!  Not even close.

“Hi Gramps,” she said.  Then she leaned over and kissed my cheek.

“Is this about that pony again?” I asked.

She let out a big exaggerated sigh.  “Gramps!  We need a pony.  We need ponies for both of us.”

“No!  Not a chance.  And that’s final.”

She laughed, then said, “But gramps, just think how much fun it would be to ride, especially if your diapers are soaked and sagging wet, and especially if you’ve got a big load of shit in the back of them.  Don’t you think going for a pony ride in diapers like that would be a load of fun?”

As far as I was concerned, her idea was a load of horseshit!  It also made me queasy just to think about.  “That’s your idea of fun?”

She laughed.  “Gramps, I’d give anything to see you riding a horse in diapers full of shit.”

Believe me, I didn’t know what to say to that.  Fortunately, I knew she was joking…I hoped.  “What do you really want?”

“Would you mind Gramps…Gramps, Gramps, Gramps, my sweet baby Gramps…”

Something told me this was not going to be good.  “Mind what?” I asked suspiciously.

“How would you feel if we cut those baby pacifier videos down to every other hour instead of every hour, but you have to suck for twenty minutes at a time instead?  And I mean suck properly!”

I was surprised.  Having an hour free would be like removing a huge amount of weight from my life.  “How would I feel?” I started to say.

“And not only that,” she continued, “but the pooping thing would go to only once an hour too.”

Again, I was shocked.  “Once?  Every hour?”

“Yes,” she confirmed.  “Twenty minutes of sucking, every other hour, and thirty seconds of pushing, every hour.  And Gramps, you know you can mess your diaper while you’re sitting right there in your chair.  I’ve seen you doing it on the camera videos.”

Yeah, she would see something like that.

“I’d cut it all out completely, “ she continued, “but I don’t want you to start getting lazy, and there’s still a lot of times when I know you’re not sucking that thing properly.  You need to learn Gramps!  Sucking right and pooping and peeing without warning need to become habits for you.  You shouldn’t even have to think about any of it.”

“Habits?” I said.

She gave me another exaggerated sigh.  “Gramps, I check those videos every day pretty thoroughly.  I watch what you do all the time.  I know you well enough now that I can usually tell what’s happening.  Don’t try to tell me you’re not peeing sometimes without knowing you were going to do it.  And don’t try and tell me you don’t sometimes poop the same way.  I can tell Gramps.  I know it’s happening.  But I want it to keep happening, only more.  So I need it all to become a habit for you.  It’s just that…”

“Just what?”

“It’s just that I know all the exercises I make you do are too much.  They’re too often.  You can’t even get any rest.”

“Huh!  That much is certainly true.  It’s driving me nuts.”

“Yeah,” she said.  “It’s too much.  So I want to try cutting back, just a little for now.  If I see signs of progress toward it all becoming more of a habit for you, then I’ll cut back even more.  The more of a habit it all becomes for you, the less you’ll have to work at it.  Okay?”

Not having to do it all so much was more than okay with me.  It was very okay.  I nodded.  “Works for me,” I told her.

“That’s just it,” she replied.  “I’m hoping it will work for you.”  She giggled and bopped me on the nose.  “And Gramps, we really do need to get you a pony.”

Ugh!  Darn woman.

You would think those changes would be huge, and in some ways, they were.  Just that much relief took a lot of the stress from my life.  But the other ways those changes affected me were much more subtle.  Or should that be diabolical?  While I only had to do the sucking thing every other hour now, it was now for twenty minutes at a time.  Kimmie quickly had me start filming myself doing it even when she was there so she wouldn’t have to watch me so closely.  She could just review parts of the video where she wanted to see if I messed up at all.  And trust me, she was quick to notice the slightest mistake.

A few weeks earlier, she had cut those videos back from fifteen minutes to ten.  That had been a huge relief.  But now I was doing it twice that long, which meant I had to concentrate on what I was doing twice as long.  And since I was filming myself close-up, I dared not make a mistake.  After just a few times doing it that way, the task became mindless, whether I wanted it to be or not.  I tried to concentrate on what I was doing, but the monotony of it was simply too much and my mind couldn’t help but wander.  The result was that even when I wasn’t trying to film myself sucking that damn baby pacifier, I found myself doing it properly, even though I really wanted to do it wrong, just to spite Kimmie.

And then there was the other thing, pooping every hour instead of twice an hour.  You would think it wouldn’t make the least bit of difference in me, but as I said before, the change was more subtle than that, and it took me days to realize it.  Yes, there had been a few times when I had pooped in between my half-hourly pooping requirements, but most of the time the shit came out of me while I was having to push it out.  The result was that I was pooping far more often, but less was coming out of me each time.  Don’t kid yourself, the end result was always a huge load in my baby diapers when changing time came around – afternoon and evening.

But now I was suddenly only doing the exercise once an hour.  Half as much.  Maybe my body had just gotten used to going more often, I’m not exactly sure, but now I kept finding myself pushing, when I didn’t intend to.  I’d be in the middle of doing something, and all of a sudden I realized I was pushing something out into my diaper, even though it wasn’t time.  Hey, in one way it wasn’t a biggie.  I was wearing a diaper anyway and it was going to go in there, like it or not.  But at the same time, it was happening when I wasn’t exactly planning on it.  Kimmie!  That’s not fair!

Somehow, I figured Kimmie considered it all to be fair play.

The next little “shift” in my life occurred a few days after she had sat in my lap.  Kimmie always dressed me for bed at eight o’clock and then let me stay up until nine to watch my TV shows.  But shortly after our latest little talk (about the ponies, remember?), she dressed me for bed like always at eight o’clock, then sent me out to watch TV.  But then at eight thirty, she hauled me right back to the bedroom and put me to bed.

“Nine o’clock is too late for bedtime for babies,” she declared firmly before I had a chance to argue with her.

Yes, I wanted to argue, but I could already see that she was prepared for another of those “which one of us is the baby” discussions, which would only involve me admitting that I was the one who wore the baby diapers.  I would have asked why she didn’t simply put me to bed at eight o’clock as soon as she finished putting my night baby diaper on me, but I was afraid she might actually do it.  In fact, she still might.  I said nothing.  Things were bad enough already.  So my nightly nine o’clock bedtime suddenly became eight-thirty instead.  Trust me, I felt more like a real toddler than ever.

And then there was the other thing.  An even bigger thing.  And it started on a Saturday.  Now remember, Kimmie had been keeping me in high heels for weeks (except for the pink sneakers when we still walked the backyard every day).  But all of a sudden, when she was dressing me to go out shopping, she stuck a pair of white tights on my legs, then hauled out those black patent little girl shoes I had always loved so much.  As she was buckling them onto my feet, my mind suddenly had a thought.  Didn’t I order some new little girl style shoes a while back?  Red ones?  I hadn’t seen any sign of them, so maybe they had never gotten ordered.  Or maybe the order had been cancelled for some reason, like they were out of stock or something.  I tossed it off the moment the black shoes were on me, and I realized once again how much more comfortable they were than the heels.  Especially the pink locking heels.

As embarrassingly as Kimmie always dressed me, especially when she was taking me out of the house, she always let me wear pants of some sort.  Yes, her pants always, not mine.  But they were still pants.  All of a sudden though, I was stepping into a skirt I had never seen before.  I was shocked.  A bit panicked too.  “You want me to wear a skirt?”

“Uh…isn’t it obvious?” she asked as she pulled it up my legs and settled it around my waist.

I searched for something to say about it, but she beat me to it.  “Don’t argue Gramps.  I decide what you wear, not you.”

End of that discussion.  And I never got a chance to say anything about it.

Yes, yes, on top I was still wearing a bra and one of her tops.  That much goes without saying I think, kind of like the diapers.  Sorry, baby diapers.  But once I was dressed that far, Kimmie wasn’t done with me yet.  That day, she again attacked my hair.  By the time I got in the car, I had two matching ribbons in my hair, and they were just as pink as my freshly done fingernails, and just as pink as I’m sure my face was.  Um…maybe not.  I had no doubt my face was bright red.

Kimmie.  What are you doing to me?

What was she doing?  She took me shopping.  But this time, she seemed to be more interested in me than her.  Once again we went to the mall.  It was a completely different experience for me walking around in a skirt instead of pants.  A huge difference.  I was far more embarrassed than ever.  And the ribbons in my hair didn’t exactly help matters either.  The way she did it, was I supposed to look like a little girl?  Ha, ha!  Big laugh!

Why did the mall have to be so big?  Why did we have to stroll around so slowly looking at things, most of which we had seen on previous trips?  Why did Kimmie have to enjoy shopping so much?  I guess these are among the essential questions of life that everyone has to ask at some point.  I asked myself those things every week.

She dragged me into one of the big department stores.  No, of course we didn’t wander anywhere near the men’s department.  Women’s and girl’s things instead.  Oh, and she looked at some of the baby clothes too.  Was she considering getting pregnant with that boyfriend of hers?

“Oh look!” she said suddenly.

I didn’t want to, but I looked anyway.  She was pawing her way through a stack of…something.  And I wasn’t sure what they were, except the material appeared to be soft fleece, and that said same material was completely covered in girly cartoon characters and flowers.  I wanted to ask what they were, but my baby pacifier was in the way.  And then she pulled one out and held it up, letting the entire thing unfold.  And it was long.  Body length!  And I finally figured out what it was – some kind of footed pajamas, all one piece.  And then she turned to me and held it up to my shoulders to check the length.  “Gramps,” she said excitedly.  “This should help keep you warm at night.”

I was speechless, even with that plug in my mouth.  Kimmie grabbed the thing and draped it over her arm, so she could buy it before we left the store.  Wonderful.

A few minutes later, Kimmie found something else to hold her interest.  Socks.  Big deal, you say?  They were for Kimmie.  Like shoes, Kimmie loved socks.  She often wore them around the house without shoes.  And trust me, she had quite a collection, many of them…uh…strange.  But this time, she was fixated on the kind of socks I was afraid wouldn’t be for her, but for me instead.  By that, I mean the fancy little girl style with the turned down top that ended in ruffles and lace.  The darling kind that girls and women all seemed to go nuts over because they were pretty.  You know what I mean.  Sissy socks.

Pluck…one pair.  Pluck…two pairs.  Pluck…  When we checked out, I bought myself those footed flannel sleepers and five pairs of socks I figured I’d have no use for at all.  I had no use for them, but I had no doubt that Kimmie had other ideas.  Believe me, I was happy for once to get out of that store and back into the concourse…uh…where a whole lot more people could see me.  Maybe it would have been better to stay in the store and keep shopping there.

Shop, shop, shop…in a skirt.  Lunch, lunch, lunch…in a skirt.  Go everywhere, do everything…in a skirt.  I wanted to scream at the way everyone was looking at me.  Maybe it wasn’t the skirt.  Maybe it was the hair ribbons.

At the other end of the concourse was another of those big department stores.  As always, in we went and looked at…stuff.  But oh, the stuff that Kimmie found to look at.  Um…how shall I put this.  Yes, I bought and paid for something else before we got back to the concourse, and Kimmie was absolutely delighted with it, even though it had me practically wanting to throw up.  Once we left the store, Kimmie stopped and had me pull that something from the bag.  She grabbed my wallet and my cellphone from her purse, and put them in MY purse, which she then handed to me to carry.  Why did she look so happy and satisfied?  I certainly wasn’t.

“Hook it over your arm Gramps.  It’ll be a lot easier to carry,” she suggested.

Yeah right!

From downstairs to upstairs.  Too many levels, too many stores.  One of which she usually passed by, but guess what, not this time.  In we went…into the toy store.  Um…we didn’t exactly go to the section of games for older kids or adults.  Nope!  You guessed it.  Toys for tots.  Like me I guessed.  Most particularly, toys for little girls.  And when I say little, I mean little.  Two years old or less.

“Gramps, look!” she said, pointing toward an entire area filled with stuffed animals.  “Go find yourself a stuffie.  And make sure it’s nice and soft.  Really soft.”

I pulled the paci from my mouth.  “Stuffie?”

“Stuffed animal dummy,” she explained.  “And put that dummy back in your mouth…dummy.”

Ugh!  Pick one out?  Myself?  As I wandered in that direction, I realized she wasn’t coming with me.  She was still back there looking in the age two and under area.  I looked at all the stuffed animals, and there was a lot.  What did I want?  None of them.  But Kimmie had said…yeah, yeah.  It was her path we were on, not mine.  So what did I want?  Maybe it was just that I wasn’t so used to making decisions anymore, but it took me a long time to pick out a simple light brown teddy bear.  Holding it though, I can tell you for sure that it felt soft.  Very soft.  I looked for Kimmie to show her, but she was nowhere around.  Had she left me?

I found her two aisles away, still looking at toys, but she had some kind of large colorful box in her hands.  “Find something?” she asked.

I showed her the simple teddy bear I had decided on.

“Nice Gramps,” she told me.  “But you could have found something a bit more colorful.  But this is fine…for now.”

For now?

Yeah, my credit card made another appearance, but this time I pulled it out of my own damn purse.  And I put it back into my own damn purse too.  And just the thought of doing that had me wetting my diaper!  Despite not drinking as much as usual, I could literally feel it starting to sag between my legs.

And then the phone in my purse dinged.  Kimmie hauled me out to a bench in the concourse and had me sit and suck my baby pacifier for twenty minutes…while she went into another store to shop.  And yes, everyone looked at me even more amazed at what they were seeing when they realized I was filming myself sucking my baby pacifier.  I guess I would be pretty amazed to see that too…if it was someone else.

Not twenty minutes, but half an hour later, we were off strolling the mall and shopping again.  By the time we left the mall my credit card had a few more purchases on it that I didn’t want at all.  When we got back to the car, I loaded my bags into it.  A teddy bear.  Some kind of huge box that held some kind of “thing” for toddlers to play with.  A footed sleeper.  Five pairs of fancy socks.  And the newest items we had just purchased, two more skirts and…yes…here it comes…a dress!  I could just scream!  Um…my purse I kept on my arm.

In the past, as soon as we got home from those ridiculous outings that Kimmie forced on me, she always made sure that I removed whatever pants were covering up my diaper so she could see it.  I expected her to tell me to get the skirt I was wearing off, and the white tights too.  But she didn’t.  Had she forgotten?  Or was she simply too thrilled with the way she had dressed me that day?  I warred in my head with asking her about it, but decided not to say anything for two reasons.  First, for once my diaper wasn’t fully on display.  Despite the things I was wearing, I was more properly dressed.  And the second reason I said nothing…um…you know what it is.  That damn plug in my mouth.  I guess as far as Kimmie was concerned, silence really is golden.

I couldn’t believe it.  All day long, Kimmie kept me dressed that way, even after she changed my diaper…baby diaper at two o’clock.  And I was happy.  Ecstatic really.  Not only was I dressed, but it was all the stuff of my wildest dreams.  From the ribbons in my hair, to the nail polish, to the skirt, to the white tights, and down to the black Mary Jane shoes on my feet.  And of course, we can’t forget the diaper I was wearing under it all.  My dream outfit.  And Kimmie was keeping me in it.

I was even happy spending twenty minutes every other hour filming myself sucking on the baby pacifier.  Although after which, I realized about another twenty minutes later that I was still sucking properly.  Each time I realized that though – chomp!  Down went my teeth to chew on it.  Take that Kimmie!

Somehow, and don’t ask me how, but that dumb teddy bear I had bought earlier that day wound up in bed with me.  Who could have possibly put it there?  Hint…it wasn’t me.  I suddenly had a new sleeping companion.  At least he wouldn’t snore and keep me awake.  I hoped.  And as for it being a he, was he?  Or it?  Or…her?  Or…what the heck sex is a teddy bear anyway?  I had no clue.  It did give me something to ponder as I drank my warm baby bottle before going to bed…at eight thirty.

No, I didn’t hold the bear in my arms when I went to sleep later.  In fact, I pushed it out of the way…and dreamed about how I had been dressed all day long.  The stuff of my dreams, became the stuff of my dreams.

 

 

Gramps - Chapter 16

 

Gramps

By Karen Singer

 

Chapter 16

 

Time.  Time marches on.  Time heals all things (I’m not totally sure about that).  Time changes everything (uh, the jury is still out as to if that includes diapers).  There’s a time to laugh, and a time to weep.  A time to love, and a time to hate.  A time to be born, and of course, a time to die.  It’s the time to die that was ever closer to my mind, because I knew that with each minute, each second, that time for me was coming closer.  We can’t outrun death.  We can’t outrun time.  My time was running out.  But, I wasn’t dead yet.  Not by a long shot.  I just often wished I was.

My entire life, where I used to have nothing but excess time on my hands, had now been carved up into an endless series of thirty-minute slices, and those slices had quicky made my entire life a living hell.  Every thirty minutes I had to try to poop in my diaper.  Every hour on the hour I not only had to try and poop, I had to sit and practice sucking on my pacifier properly for an increasingly long time.  Time, that after just a few days began to feel like an eternity.  I felt like that’s all I did, try to poop in my diaper, then immediately sit and film myself sucking properly, then all too soon, try to poop in my diaper again.  Endlessly.  All day.

On Sunday, as usual now, Kimmie forced me out to go grocery shopping.  And as usual, I was dressed embarrassingly.  I had gotten to wear the more comfortable black pumps the day before, but Kimmie stuck…actually locked…those pink heels on me instead.  I had no doubt at all that she got a huge kick over the fact that they were incredibly uncomfortable, and I couldn’t remove them even if I tried.  But hey, isn’t that what loving granddaughters are for?

I wore another of the bras we had bought the day before and Kimmie was kind enough to adjust it just a bit too tight for me.  So much love.  The bra was covered by another of her blouses, this one tailored a bit to help show off the bumps on my chest, even though it was loose enough to go over my body.  As for pants…yes, she let me wear pants again.  This time they were nothing but stretchy yoga pants that I knew did nothing at all to hide my diapered state.  Uh…the diaper I was wearing goes without saying of course, but we’re not mentioning that anymore, are we.

Yes, I was afraid it was going to happen, and it did, but differently.  When we got to the grocery store we didn’t see any of the girls from Kimmie’s school, but instead we did see one of the other teachers she worked with.  More about that in a moment.

What happened that I wasn’t happy about was that Kimmie’s schedule for me was unrelenting.  I had to do my pacifier…uh…baby pacifier exercise while I was in there, and I also had the privilege of doing the pooping exercise, not once, but twice!  And once was…  Okay, let me explain.

We had just started shopping.  We had covered the first two aisles in relative quiet.  And by quiet, I mean no girls following us around, although as far as I was concerned, the number of people watching me seemed to be endless.  But halfway through the next aisle, I heard it.

“Oh, hey Kim.”

We turned and I saw Kimmie smile.  “Jessie!” she replied.  “How are you?”

“Good,” she said.  Then I saw her nod towards me.  “I guess that’s your Gramps that you told us about?”

“That’s him,” Kimmie confirmed.

I wanted to die.  Was there anyone in the entire world who didn’t know about me?”

“He certainly looks…” Jessie started to say, but her comment was interrupted by the ding coming from Kimmie’s bag.

“Uh-oh,” Kimmie said as she checked the phone.  “Gramps.  Pooping time.”

“Uh?” I complained around the dumb thing filling my mouth.  Of course, nobody understood me, nor did they care.

“Ready?” Kimmie said.  “Go!”

Like it or not, which I didn’t, I stood there in the grocery store and worked at pushing something nasty out into my diaper, while Kimmie counted to fifteen.  At fifteen, I automatically stopped.  Kimmie turned to Jessie.  “I’ll explain in a minute,” she told her, then turned back to me. “Ready?  Go!  One…two…”  All the way to fifteen when I gratefully stopped.  “Okay Gramps,” Kimmie said.  “Baby paci time.”  She checked the time and started watching me closely.

I was up to seven minutes each time now.  Seven minutes that was an eternity.  As I sucked away carefully, Kimmie turned to her friend again.  “I make him try to poop in his diaper every thirty minutes, and make him spend time sucking on his baby pacifier every hour so he learns to do it properly and not chew on the thing instead.”

The two of them stood there and discussed things for a few minutes, and I did my best to tune them out, which left me nothing to really think about except how I was sucking on the baby pacifier in my mouth…which was the one thing I really didn’t want to think about.  I was so tuned out that I almost missed it when Kimmie said, “Time Gramps.”  I turned my head, but the same sucking motion kept going.

As soon as Kimmie and I got home, Kimmie sat me down and worked hard to pull those yoga leggings off of me, while leaving the pink heels locked on.  Once again, my baby diaper was on full display.  Only after that did we pull the groceries from the car and put everything away.

In the middle of putting things up, of course the phone dinged time again and I had to try to poop, followed by more baby pacifier sucking…which I had been doing all the time anyway, just not the way Kimmie would have liked.  Hey, I had to have some rebellion in me.

On Monday, Kimmie hit me with another new one.  “Gramps, you do nothing at all every day except sit in your chair.  You need to get up and move a bit.  Do you think you can find the energy to at least try and clean the house some?  When was the last time you even vacuumed the carpet?  Never!”

The truth was though that I never thought it needed it.  It was just the two of us and neither of us were exactly slobs, so the place didn’t get dirty.

“Gramps.  Vacuum today at least.  It won’t kill you.”

I wasn’t so sure.  I was once again locked into those pink heels, and those things were dangerous just to look at.  More so to try and walk in.  Besides, I had lots of other things to do all day, like watching TV, trying to poop in my diaper, looking at porn on the internet, trying to poop again before filming myself sucking on the pacifier for eight minutes at a time, reading a book, trying to poop again…  You get the picture, right?  Between creating eight-minute baby pacifier films and trying to poop where I didn’t want to, it took me a long time to vacuum the carpets.  Much longer than usual.  I figured though that Kimmie wouldn’t care in the least about how long it took.  According to her, I had nothing to do all day.  The truth was, I had too much to do!

And time marched on…endlessly.  Day after day.  And day after day, some things stayed the same while other things got worse. 

Every day Kimmie continued to diaper and dress me in the morning.  Every day when I was home, my embarrassing baby diaper was on display.  Every day I wore a pair of high heels.  Every single day I wore a bra all day long, no matter what else I was wearing.  Trust me, that was weird.  There was just something that seemed totally incongruous about wearing baby diapers, and a bra.  I was getting used to having bumps sticking out from my chest though, even though I wasn’t used to the feel of the bra strapped around my body.  It never ever became really comfortable, just tolerable.

And then came the day when Kimmie was getting me ready for bed, and she finally removed that damn chastity device.  I was free!  Free!  Free!  I was also thickly diapered right away and put to bed with another warm bottle of milk.  Um…I probably shouldn’t admit this, but after finishing my bottle, I laid there and humped and humped and humped.  But strangely, I got nowhere.  Not even a little bit hard.  I think my penis was in too much of a state of shock.  Either that or after being all scrunched up so badly for so long it was incapable of doing anything.  I didn’t get the release I wanted until the following night, after another long, long session of humping the bed.  But hey, relief is relief.  And trust me, I loved every second of it.

It was always the weekends, Saturday and Sunday, that I hated the most.  Yes, deep down I probably had a love–hate relationship with those days.  The audacity of what Kimmie kept putting me through excited me to no end.  But overall, I dreaded those days like the plague.  Every Sunday Kimmie insisted we go grocery shopping, and she always tried to dress me as embarrassingly as possible.  Saturdays were the same, except we either went to the mall or spent time shopping somewhere else.  I think Kimmie was really trying to take me to any place where there might be a crowd…where there would be too many people to gawk at me.  Embarrassing!  I hated it (I loved it too, but I won’t admit that, even here).

The two exercises Kimmie kept me doing every single day were starting to kill me.  Those two things ruled my entire life.  After a while, they left me no time to really do anything else.  My TV shows were interrupted.  My computer time was interrupted.  My reading was interrupted.  Even all the tasks around the house that Kimmie started asking me to do were made more difficult, just because of having to go through those two exercises so often.

Oh, and Kimmie did always seem to have me do something that kept me from sitting so long in my chair and resting.  “Gramps, why don’t you blow the leaves off the patio today.  Okay?  Gramps, can you please vacuum the carpet again?  Gramps, the kitchen floor needs moping.  Gramps, can you please do the wash today?”  Lots of easy little things, but they kept me out of my chair longer than I wanted to be.

I don’t know when I realized it, probably after a few weeks.  Probably after my pacifier sessions went over fifteen minutes, but I realized I was always sucking on the thing just like Kimmie wanted me to.  Not that she ever seemed to notice…at least, I don’t think she did.

As for the pooping exercise, those were worse.  That exercise also had a few unintended consequences that nobody had thought about.  Or maybe Kimmie had thought about them and they were her intended goal all along.  Every half hour, I spent fifteen seconds trying to take a shit where I shouldn’t, then I rested for five seconds, then I pushed for another fifteen seconds.  But more often than not, it wasn’t just shit coming out of me, I was peeing during a lot of those pushing sessions as well.  Well, when you’re pushing like that, you can’t exactly stop yourself from peeing, can you.  I guess maybe some of you can.  I certainly couldn’t.  Trying to poop was the same as trying to pee.  Two whammies for the price of one!  They weren’t pooping exercises, they were pooping and peeing exercises.  I wasn’t holding anything at all back for very long.

Oh, and remember those video cameras she had installed?  I learned their real purpose.  Early on, while Kimmie was at work, I figured she’d have no way of knowing if I tried to poop in my pants or not.  So I didn’t even try.  I just let it slide.  I did have to still film myself sucking the pacifier, that much she could easily see, but what could she see as far as me trying to poop in my diaper?  Nothing!  So I tried to get past it.

Kimmie came home that night mad as hell.  She pulled up a few videos of me really trying to shit in my baby diaper, and then some from that day when I was supposed to be doing it, but didn’t.  Yeah, even I could tell the difference.  My nose got hooked up to that corner again, this time at an in-between height where I couldn’t stand, I couldn’t sit, I couldn’t get to my knees, all I could do was stay bent over.  Um…yes, I cried horribly again that night and was so sorry for what I had done.  Then Kimmie explained that I was going to spend another week in chastity for it too.  Shit!  Yeah, I had to call the police and put out another missing person’s report on my cock.  Like before, it was simply gone.  I never tried to fool her again and not do the two exercises.  And I even put a bit more effort into them after that.

I got lucky…I think.  Once my baby paci exercise time went over fifteen minutes, Kimmie cut it back to ten minutes each time.  I was so happy, I was starting to try to see myself doing it for hours at a time.  Who was I kidding?  I was already doing it for hours at a time.  I spent my entire day with that paci…baby pacifier in my mouth, unless I didn’t have a baby bottle there instead.  I just didn’t exactly suck on it all the time like Kimmie wanted.  Yeah, I was a real rebel!

I’m not sure exactly when it was, probably around the middle of October, but I was doing nothing but walking across the room when I realized I was peeing, even though there had been no warning at all about it.  Trust me, that shook me.  But not as much as a few weeks later when I was out blowing leaves off the patio, and in the middle of doing it, I realized that I was already in the process of shitting in my diaper, and I hadn’t realized it was going to happen.  I was becoming so used to pushing, trying to poop all the time, that when the real thing came along, my body automatically did it.  I had already realized that the peeing without warning was starting to happen a little more often too, but I didn’t expect the shitting to go that way as well.  Especially not since I was still trying to poop my diaper every half hour.  You’d think it would all come out then, not in between.

Somewhere in there, I started to realize that Kimmie’s boyfriend Kyle was spending more time visiting than before.  I was guessing there was a good relationship growing there.  Kyle, he never really outright laughed at me.  He rarely ever said anything directly to me, but I don’t think I ever saw him without a rather disgusted smirk on his face when he looked at me.  Hey, what could I do about it?  Nothing.  It was his girlfriend that was to blame.

And then came the evening when Kimmie had about four or five of her girlfriends out to the house.  Uh…no sign of Kyle, thankfully.  I tried desperately to spend the entire evening hiding in my room, but that didn’t do me a lot of good.  I figured out very early on that every one of those women knew all about me.  In fact, they all trooped into my room to stare (and laugh) at me, before they finally left me alone to go back to the kitchen and living room to talk…and drink.

Even from the depths of my room, I heard a lot of laughter out there.  I just couldn’t hear what they were talking about.  And I was glad.  No doubt, a lot of it was about me.  But I was old enough to know that after a while, most of it was probably talk about their other friends or teachers, students, and more than likely, a lot of talk about men.  Men that weren’t me.  Was I still considered in that category with other men?  I wasn’t too sure.

When eight-thirty came, I was shocked when Kimmie came into my room, followed by all her friends.  Was I aghast?  Darn right I was.  I wanted to complain, but that stupid baby pacifier was still between my lips.  Right in front of them, Kimmie dragged me into my bathroom where they all commented on the padlock preventing me from opening the door to the toilet.  Then they all watched as Kimmie laid me on the floor, removed my messy and soaked diaper, cleaned me up, powdered me, pulled a thick night diaper up between my legs, and this time followed it up with a pair of pastel pink plastic pants.  Back in the bedroom, she pulled that pretty, but short, nighty top over my upper body.  Then Kimmie said, “We’ll be back at bedtime Gramps.  Enjoy.”

And they all trooped out together.  It had all been almost clinical.  But what it had really been, was nothing more than a bunch of women watching while another woman changed her baby’s diaper and got him ready for bed.  Yeah, that’s the impression I got out of all of it.

When bedtime came, Kimmie was back again to put me into bed.  She kissed me goodnight, and pulled the baby pacifier out of my mouth.  One of her friends handed her the warm baby bottle of milk.  I don’t know which one turned out the light when they left, and I didn’t care.

Was becoming a baby that simple?  Or should I say, was being considered to be nothing but a baby that simple?  Simple?  Maybe I should say it was normal for women like them.  Normal, yeah, that’s the better word.  Babies got treated a certain way, and women knew how that was supposed to be.  Normal baby treatment.

Sucking on the baby bottle of warm milk was comforting.  But was being treated so normally like a baby comforting as well?  That was the conundrum I pondered as the milk in my bottle gradually grew less and less.  When it was done, I put the bottle on my nightstand, ignored my baby pacifier like always, rolled over, and started humping.  To be treated like a baby, as if I really was a baby, and for Kimmie and her friends to all think it was normal.  What would that be like?

In truth, I had no idea.  I couldn’t even fathom it.  Still, I humped away, until I heard a sudden uncontrolled giggle.  I had been so preoccupied that I never heard them sneak into my room.  Yeah, I was embarrassed.  Very embarrassed!  But what could I do about it?  I had been caught.  It took me a long time to go to sleep after that.

And then the entire world tilted sideways.