Gramps - Chapter 25

 

Gramps

By Karen Singer

 

Chapter 25

 

Whether or not you worry about the weather is up to you.  Whether you let the weather affect you is another matter.  Whether or not you try to track the weather in advance is your choice.  Whether you try to plan for whatever weather is coming your way is another matter as well.  In some ways, I considered the fact that Kimmie appeared to be so concerned about what weather we would face on our trip to be a very good thing.  In other ways, not so much.  I guess it depended on whether or not I appreciated her solution for me.  Which I guess I did…overall.

Remember those shopping trips Kimmie liked to take me out on, just to overly humiliate me in public?  Well, let me tell you.  It was Christmas shopping season and there was more public out in the stores than I could deal with, and trust me, dealing with the amount of public who had seen me before was already more than I could take.

But it was December now, and we lived in the hill country of Tennessee.  Guess what.  It got cold up in them thar’ hills.  Now, also remember that all the skirts Kimmie kept dressing me in every day weren’t exactly long, or warm.  I considered tights to be a godsend, especially the few pairs I owned that were a bit thicker than the others.  But they all weren’t that way.  In fact, most of them were pretty thin material.  So thin tights, plus a skirt that barely covered my diaper…in fact, when my diaper was full and sagging, they didn’t cover it very well…meant that every time I went outside, I froze my ass off!

Yeah, it was cold enough out that Kimmie let me wear a winter coat every night now when we walked the yard.  But she didn’t like my winter coat.  In fact, she often said she hated seeing me in that thing.  I didn’t just like my coat, I loved it.  It was warm.  Nice and warm.  But Kimmie hated that coat so much, she wouldn’t let me wear it the next time she took me out of the house for our Saturday shopping/humiliation sprees.  In fact, she wouldn’t let me wear a jacket either.  Nothing!  Just my bra, diaper, tights, a girly top, an overly short skirt, and of course my black little girl Mary Janes.  That’s it.  And it was cold!  Oh yeah, I had a pacifier in my mouth too, but I don’t know if we should count that or not.

Believe me, I felt every bit of that cold blistery air that day when she again dragged me out to the local shopping mall.  I especially felt the cold whenever the wind was blowing, which it seemed to be doing non-stop.  Yes, Kimmie was aware of how cold it was.  She was aware of how cold I was too.  And believe it or not, she didn’t want me to suffer…that way.  She did want me to suffer more humiliation being out in public dressed the way I was in front of crowds and crowds of people.  But suffering from the cold wasn’t what she wanted.

Um…have you ever seen a grown man…forget that he’s dressed ridiculously like a little girl.  Forget that completely…for now.  But have you ever seen a grown man, trying on coats made for girls?  Not women!  Girls!

“Here Gramps,” Kimmie said.  “This one looks like it might have more room in it.”  Or, “I think the sleeves in this one look a bit longer.”  Or, “No Gramps.  I don’t like that style at all.  Take it off.”  I hadn’t even gotten it on yet.  I tried on every winter coat in the largest size available in the girls’ section of four different stores.  All to no avail.  None of them were really big enough.  Oh, a few actually came close and Kimmie was tempted to buy them, but in the end, she didn’t.

Do you know how long it takes to try on that many coats?  Especially when the stores are crowded?  A long time.  Now, multiply that by four stores.  I was actually glad by the time Kimmie gave up.  But I misunderstood her intent.  She dragged me into the women’s departments instead and we started all over again with me trying on winter coats, this time made for women.  Oh no, don’t think for a moment that Kimmie would let me buy something we found from the first store.  Nope!  Don’t forget, her intention was to keep me out in public for as long as possible dressed the way I was.  Four stores of women’s winter coats, then we finally walked back to the first store and bought one there.  Darn woman.  I really was going to kill her that day.

My new winter coat was nice.  It was certainly warm since it was puffy and had fake fur around the collar.  But it only came down just past my waist.  No further.  It would do nothing at all for the lower part of my body where I really needed it, and where it could help hide whatever embarrassing thing I might be wearing.  Nope.  No chance of that at all.  But at least the upper part of me would be warm.

And of course, then Kimmie decided I needed colorful rubber boots as well since there was a good chance we could be facing snow soon.  “Yeah.  I didn’t just pee, I pooped.  Not to mention, my entire body was pooped from all that shopping.

Speaking of pooping, not only did I try on coats for much of the day, but Kimmie kept reminding me to poop as well.  My cellphone would ding, and if she didn’t see me obviously trying to mess my diaper, she would say, “Gramps, are you pooping in your diaper?”  Uh, yeah.  She said that out loud where everyone could hear her.  The only thing I didn’t have to do while we were out was my pacifier videos.  I couldn't imagine having to sit around in the mall and film my face sucking on a pacifier for thirty minutes.  I guess Kimmie couldn’t imagine me doing that in the mall either.  She humiliated me with trying on little girl coats instead, that she probably knew in advance would never fit me.

I didn’t get to wear my new coat until just before we walked out of the mall and into the parking lot.  Boy was I ready to get out of there and go home.  Darn woman.

That evening, I got to wear my new winter coat as Kimmie and I got in our usual daily exercise walking around the backyard.  I didn’t think we needed to do it that day since we had spent so much time walking around the mall, but Kimmie insisted we still needed to do it.  So the two of us walked the yard in our winter coats, and I did everything possible to not complain about how cold my legs and feet were.

I stopped thinking about how cold my lower body was after a few minutes though when Kimmie suddenly said, “Um…Gramps?  How would you feel about…  Oh, never mind.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What?” I asked again.

“It’s just that, one of the gifts I got at that baby shower was a collection of earrings that Allison gave me.  I was wondering how you might feel about having your ears pierced.”

I was shocked!  I was about to answer when she suddenly said.  “Don’t answer that!  It’s not your decision anyway.  You’re a baby.  I don’t even know why I told you.”

I now had something new, something worse, to worry about.  Yeah, my legs were freezing, but I now had something more cold-blooded to worry about than the cold weather.

In the middle of December, we got hit with a bit of an early snowstorm.  Nothing that infrequent for where we lived, but it still reminded us that winter was upon us now.  As if the cold temperatures weren’t enough to do that.  Kimmie and I still walked the backyard every day, with me trying to poop every fifteen minutes.  God I hated that.  I did get to put my new colorful rainboots to good use though.  That much was fun, until I realized that the boots actually made walking more difficult for me.  Once I realized that, the fun in wearing them was over.

Kimmie kept a strict watch on the weather though, not just for where we lived, but also up in Maryland where we were going.  Maryland had gotten hit with the same snowstorm that had hit us, but about a week before we were scheduled to leave, they got hit with a bigger storm.  For a while there I was hoping our trip would get cancelled, but even I knew the reality of that wasn’t going to happen.  It seemed like no time before they weren’t even mentioning road problems in the area anymore.

And then something strange happened.  Something that made me happy.

We were going to Baltimore for an entire week.  Christmas was going to happen on a Thursday, but we were leaving for Baltimore on Saturday, five days before Christmas.  We were going to come home the following Saturday.  The something good for me that happened, happened on Sunday, six days before we would be leaving to head north.

Kimmie had just finished getting me dressed for the day, when she stopped me before either of us got out of the room.  “Okay Gramps,” she said.  “No more pacifier videos.  Can you live with that?”

Huh?  “Yes!” I literally shouted as I raised my arms up in the air.

“And there’s one other thing too,” she said

I waited for something worse to take the place of those videos.

“Instead of trying to poop every fifteen minutes, I reset your timer so you can do it every twenty minutes instead.  That’s only three times every hour instead of four.  But Gramps, trust me.  I better see you still trying to pee and poop in your diaper all the time.  And I mean all the time.  No holding back at all.  Or else…”

Yes, I danced around, happy as a lark.  It was only a little bit of a difference, but it certainly seemed like a huge improvement to me.  Funny thing though, I still found myself pushing with every little thing that caught my attention.  But still, my phone dinging only every twenty minutes was a huge relief.

And then Monday came.  Five days before our trip.  Kimmie got me dressed then laid her new requirements on me.  “Gramps,” she said.  “I reprogrammed the timer on your cellphone again last night.  It’s only going to go off every thirty minutes now for you to try to poop instead of every twenty minutes.  But trust me, if I don’t see you constantly trying to pee and poop in those diapers you’ll be back to every fifteen minutes before you know it, and it’ll stay like that, even on our trip.”

I was flabbergasted with happiness.  Only every thirty minutes now?  Only every half-hour?  Whee!

“Just don’t forget,” she warned me.  “If I don’t see you trying…”

“Yeah,” I replied.  “No problem,” I told her.

Once again, every little thing that caught my attention had me realizing that I needed to pee or poop, but most of the time as I was realizing what I needed to think about doing, I also realized that I was already doing it.  But hey, that was a good thing, right?  I didn’t want to have to go back to worrying about it every fifteen minutes.  I only had to push for fifteen seconds every half hour.  It was like total freedom!

It wasn’t until Tuesday, four days before our trip, that I realized there was a pattern to what Kimmie had been doing.  She got me dressed as usual, then said, “Gramps, I did some adjusting to your cellphone again last night.”

This time I was hopeful for what she might say.  I was anticipating it breathlessly.

Yup!  “You only have to try to pee and poop in your diaper once every hour now,” she told me.

Yes, yes, yes!  Mana from heaven.

As she was giving me her usual warning about she better see me trying to do it all the time, I was already hoping that the next step would be to never have to worry about that little dinging sound again.

All day long, my mind was thinking about her requirements for me possibly ending completely.  It would be such a relief.  Yes, I was conscious to try to stop as often as possible so her surveillance videos of me would show me trying to do what I shouldn’t in my diaper.  And I did that despite the fact that I still found myself peeing and trying to poop at the least little distraction.

Three days before the trip, On Wednesday, Kimmie handed me the best present possible. 

“No more pushing schedule Gramps.  None!  Your cellphone won’t be going off today at all, unless it’s a phone call or text message for you.  But don’t forget…”

“Yeah, yeah,” I told her happily.  “I need to keep doing it anyway.”

She smiled.  “Right!  Don’t forget, I’ll be watching.”

I already knew she would.  But I was happy.  I was free.  Free, free, free!  It was like the best feeling in the world.  Oh, I did remember to try to pee and poop as obviously as I could, even though I was already doing it not so obviously every time something caught my attention.  But I wasn’t always aware that I was doing that.  It happened so often that it was starting to become an unconscious reaction.

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.  Oh dreary life, oh dear.  On Thursday, just two days before our trip, Kimmie changed it all again.  “Sorry Gramps she told me, but you’re back to trying to pee and poop every fifteen minutes again.”

I was crestfallen.  “But I did keep trying to do it.  I promise, I did.”

“I know you did,” she told me.  “And I’m very happy about it.”

“Then why?”

“Because that’s the way I want it.  Babies don’t need any more explanation that that.  It’s because I said so, and that’s it.”

Yeah, I was really depressed.  It was back to the old grind.  Every fifteen minutes.  There was no freedom at all anymore.  No way to ever relax.  There was only misery.

And Friday, the day before our trip was no better.  I had been hoping she would take the requirement away again, or at least relax it some, but she didn’t.  And she confirmed that when she said, “Every fifteen minutes Gramps, and don’t forget it.”

How could I forget it?  I wanted to throw my phone out the window and hope it got buried in the snow – permanently!  Darn woman!

Um…we’re going to fast forward just a tiny bit to Saturday, the day of the trip, just so that I can tell you that that day, Saturday, Kimmie told me that once again there would no longer be any requirement for me to keep trying to pee and poop in my diaper every fifteen minutes.  There would be no reminders for me to do that at all on our trip.  Not as long as she continued to see me trying to do it all the time by myself instead.  I don’t have to tell you how anxious I was to agree to that.

It wasn’t until I was in the car and we were on our way back to Disaster City that I figured it out.  Sending me right back into the worst possible nightmare of constantly having to poop in my diaper was her way of trying to reinforce the fragile habit that she had tried to instill in me.  A habit that was so newly formed it would be somewhat easy for me to overcome.  But it was a habit she didn’t want me to overcome.

Heck, I was so sick of her little exercises I was ready to do anything to get out of them.

Darn woman!

 

Gramps - Chapter 24

 

Gramps

By Karen Singer

 

Chapter 24

 

Talking is the key to everything.  Talking is overrated.  Some people talk too much.  Some people don’t talk enough.  There’s a lot to be said for talking.  There’s a lot to be said about talking.  Talking isn’t overrated, but most of the time, it’s useless.

The problem with all those thoughts is that talking is the wrong word.  The wrong concept.  It isn’t talking that’s important, it’s communicating.  Talking isn’t the key to everything, communicating is.  What’s the difference?  Talking just involves flapping your jaws and making noise.  Most of the time, it’s actually useless noise.  Communicating on the other hand is an art, and the biggest difference is that communicating involves listening and actively trying to understand.

Sometimes the person trying to communicate doesn’t know how to say something properly.  They don’t know the words for it, or they can’t put those concepts into words.  Communicating involves trying to read the thoughts and emotions and find those unstated concepts that the person relaying their thoughts is trying to convey.  Communicating is understanding, on both parts.

The day after we got home, Kimmie had to go back to school.  We didn’t really get a chance to talk until she got home that night.  In fact, we didn’t talk until we walked the backyard together again for our daily exercise.

During the day, while she was away, things were back to normal for me.  Kimmie had put me in a skirt and sweater top with blue tights and my black little girl shoes.  I appreciated the comfort of it.  Especially since I was home alone and nobody would be able to see me.  I could…enjoy being myself…a sissy little girl in diapers.  Uh…wet and messy diapers.  And I could really do without the messy part.  But once again my phone was dinging, reminding me to poop, or poop then suck my pacifier for twenty minutes.  It never seemed to end.  In a way, I wished I was back on vacation again.  Some vacation!

When I wasn’t pooping or creating pacifier videos, I walked around the house a bit, looking at some of the new things Kimmie had brought home with us, and not just the few new toys I seemed to have acquired.  We had that new changing mat for me now.  I noticed that there were more baby bottles than we had before.  And in the laundry room I saw a couple of large adult baby sized bibs on top of a pile of baby or little girl looking clothes that I didn’t recognize.  There were also some diapers in the closet that appeared to be just as big as my other diapers, but they were a different brand with different designs.  I had no doubt there were a lot of other things around that I didn’t see yet that the baby shower had brought into my life.

But as I said, the “talking” between Kimmie and I didn’t really begin until after she got home and we walked the backyard together.  I automatically removed my pacifier before we went outside, not only so I could talk, but because it made breathing easier (more like huffing and puffing).

I had noticed Kimmie’s mood since she got home from work, and especially the entire day before.  She had been mostly silent during the long drive, and I had noticed that she had made sure I stayed silent as well.  She even kept me in the backseat for the entire trip so I wouldn’t disturb her thoughts.

“You okay?” I asked once we had turned the first corner in the yard.

“Of course,” she replied.  “Why?”

“Because you seem to be moody lately.  Like you’ve got something on your mind?  Any problems I can help with?”

“No,” she replied flatly.  “I’m fine.”

Which meant that she wasn’t fine.  Communicating.  Reading between the lines.  Remember?  “Are you worried about the family?  Especially what happened on Thursday?”

She seemed annoyed by my question.

“So that’s a yes,” I told her.

“Don’t worry about it,” she told me.  “It’s not a problem anyway.  You saw how well the baby shower went.”

“Yeah.  Much better than I expected.”

“Me too,” she agreed.

“Lots of new stuff.”

I saw a hint of a smile.  “It was…really nice.  And nice of everyone to do that for me…us!”

“I guess it was,” I agreed.

It was a moment before she said anything else.  “That may be the only baby shower I’ll ever be able to have.  That’s why it meant so much to me.”

I considered that and immediately felt sad for her.  “Yeah,” I said.  “So it was extra nice then.  Special.”

“Yes.  Very,” she agreed.

“So what’s got you concerned?”

She shook her head.  “I told you, don’t worry about it?  Babies don’t worry about things like that.  That’s for adults to worry about.  And which one of us is wearing the baby diapers here anyway?”

“That would be me,” I confirmed.

“Darn right…baby!”

Okay.  It was something to do with the family, but she wasn’t ready yet to talk about it.  I tried a different direction.  “Your mother asked me something that kind of surprised me,” I told her.  “I was wondering what you thought.”

“Mom?”

“Mm-hm.”

“When?”

“When she changed me.”

“Oh,” she replied.  “What’s that?”

“She said she was surprised that you didn’t have me calling you Mommy.  Did you want me to do that?  Or were you planning on having me do that?”

She shook her head.  “I don’t know.  I never thought about it.”

“Kind of like you never thought about referring to me in the feminine sense.  Saying she instead of he.”

She considered that.  “Yeah.  Kind of like that.  They’re things I just never thought about.”

“Do I need to worry about them?”

She looked at me as we walked.  “Babies…don’t need to worry about things!”

Which told me she really hadn’t considered those little things yet, and that she hadn’t made up her mind about them.

“Shit!” she muttered softly.  I could see she was more bothered by things than before.  “You calling me Mommy wouldn’t be exactly like my own baby calling me that.  Yeah, it would be nice.  Maybe even fun, but…”

“I’m not your real baby,” I finished for her.

“Something like that,” she agreed.  I just kind of…hijacked you into being my baby instead.”

Hijacked?  Yeah.  It had been something like that.

“But Gramps,” she said.  “That doesn’t mean I don’t love you now like you really are my baby.  Believe me Gramps.  I don’t know any other way to say it except, I love you.  A lot.”

“I love you too, Kimmie,” I told her.  Once again, I felt sorry for her.  She was a woman.  Born to bring a baby into the world.  And she couldn’t.  So she had hijacked me into the position.

I was surprised when she quickly changed the subject.  “I’m going to make some changes,” Kimmie said.

“What?”

“I wasn’t happy that you didn’t keep trying to poop in your diaper all the time during that entire trip.  Why do you think I had you doing it so often before then.  So I’m going to have you do that exercise every half hour again instead of every hour.”

I mentally groaned.

“And the pacifier exercise,” she said.  “I think that will stay every other hour…”

I was glad to hear that part.

“…but I’m going to make that for thirty minutes instead of just twenty every time.”

Ugh!  More time on enforced sucking.

“That means that every other hour you’ll try to poop in your diaper, suck for half an hour, then immediately try to poop again when you’re done.”

Did I say ugh?  Well I meant it.

As we walked, I realized what she was really trying to do with me (communicating, remember?).  She was trying to make doing those things habits.  She wanted to get me to the point where I didn’t even realize I was trying to poop, or trying to pee.  I just did those things without thinking about it.  And as for sucking my pacifier, she wanted me to be pacifier dependent.  She wanted me to actually need that thing.

As I considered all that, I realized that the truth was, I was already at least halfway there.  How often did I pee now the moment I realized I needed to.  And pooping in my diaper was the same way.  Between trying to poop every hour or so, and also whenever the actual need hit me, I wasn’t exactly holding anything very long at all.  Once it started, I was more anxious to get it over with.  How long would it be before I didn’t even realize I was trying to pee, or trying to poop?  Judging by the way I already was, something told me it might not take that long at all.

And what would happen if I did all that and allowed Kimmie to tip me over the edge?  I would most likely be completely incontinent, or close enough that there was no discernable difference.  Did I really want that?  I wasn’t sure.  To dream about it and fantasize about things is one thing, but more often the reality is nothing at all like the dream.  The reality could be nothing but a horror show.

Should I try to argue about it?  Should I try to fight back and resist as much as I was able?  That seemed like the best and most logical course of action for me.  But it took just a bit of thought for me to realize I wasn’t going to do any of that.  I had already done more than enough soul searching in the last few days to make me realize that I was simply too weak-willed to resist.  I would let Kimmie push me over the edge to wherever she wanted me to go.  I was riding Kimmie’s train now to…who knows where.  And I had signed up for the full journey.

The changes to my schedule started that very night.  Just as Kimmie had promised…or rather dictated, she put her new schedule for me into effect.  Every half hour my cellphone would ding, and she immediately “reminded” me to poop.  Every other hour, she not only reminded me poop, but she had me sitting with my cellphone, filming myself doing nothing but sucking that big pacifier.  In just a few hours I was ready to beg to be sent to bed.

And of course, it all continued the next day.  The constant dinging from my phone every half hour drove me crazy.  So did having to sit for thirty minutes and barely move while I filmed my face.  That night though, when Kimmie came home, she had a present for me.

“What is it?” I asked as I looked at the contraption.

“It’s a stand for your cellphone.  Now you don’t have to hold it.  You can just set it up and sit and rest.”

It took only one trial before I was wondering why she hadn’t found me that thing before.  That simple stand was like a lifesaver.  The only problem was that the next day, filming myself sucking like I had to do, I fell asleep in the chair.  Hey, I wasn’t exactly paying much attention to things.  What was there that I needed to pay attention to?  But I guess the boredom of it all got to me and…naptime!  One time I didn’t wake up until an hour later, and it was only when the phone dinged again reminding me to poop.  I realized I had completely slept thought the thirty minute ding before it.

By the following day, pacifier time had become either another naptime, or as I preferred to think of it, meditation time.  The entire exercise had simply become relaxing.  Why shouldn’t it?  Kimmie didn’t seem to care…that is, if she even noticed.  I was betting that she wasn’t even looking at those videos anymore.

Um…I’m backing up here a few days to the second day after we returned from our trip, one of the last few days in November.  That was when Kimmie came up with the next little bit of hell for me.  On the surface, it didn’t sound like much, but trust me, it was.

She was just getting ready to head off to work when she stopped to talk.  “Gramps.  I need you to do something for me today.”

She often had little tasks for me.  Clean the house.  Blow the leaves.  Things like that.  I just looked at her and waited to find out what she thought needed doing now.

“I need you to go to the internet and create a Christmas list for yourself.”

I was shocked.  “A Christmas list?”

“Yes.  But it’s got to be all baby toys.  Make a list of all the baby toys you want for Christmas.  And Gramps.  That list needs to have at least twenty-five toys on it, and every toy has to be for someone three-years-old or under.  And Gramps, I want at least half the list to be toys geared toward girls.  No toys at all that would be just for boys.  Girl toys.  Baby girl toys.  And I’m letting you look for toys for three-year-olds and under instead of two and under because there’s a lot more girl toys to choose from.  Twenty-five Gramps!  And Gramps, make sure you include the internet links on your list so they’re easy to find.  Besides, I’ll be checking them all.”  With a wicked smile, she was gone.

I stared at the empty doorway she had just gone through, her “request” still ringing in my ears.  Baby toys that I wanted to play with.  Baby girl toys that I wanted to play with.  And find twenty-five of them?  There weren’t twenty-five toys I wanted.  There weren’t even five.  In fact, there wasn’t even one!  I didn’t like all the baby toys I already had, and she wanted me to find more?  She was nuts!  Darn woman!

Now what was I supposed to do?  The entire request was ridiculous.  The entire concept of the request was ridiculous.  Make a list.  Toys.  Baby girl toys that I wanted.  Nope!

I heard my phone ding in the background and without thinking I pushed.  I realized I was peeing instead of pooping.  That registered, but barely.  It happened often.  At least nothing else had come out of me…yet.

Absolutely confounded by her request, I headed for my computer.  Darn woman!  Do you know how much internet searching you have to do to find twenty-five toys made for baby girls who are three years old or less?  It’s like mission impossible!  Oh yeah, there are some that popped up in the search links, but the toys weren’t actually made for baby girls.  I sat through the making of two pacifier videos, three baby bottles, lunch, and actually pooping in my diaper twice before I finally “settled” on ten generic toys for super young toddlers.  And trust me, none of them were toys I actually wanted.  Not even close.  But toys for girls that young?  Ha!  At that age, I doubt any babies would actually know the difference between a boy and a girl, let alone what toys they were interested in playing with.  It took me the entire rest of the day before, out of desperation, I filled out my list with some dolls, a toy shopping cart, a riding Barbie something, and a bunch of other nonsense things that looked like they were made for girls.  Ridiculous!  I barely finished before Kimmie came home.

Oh!  But don’t think it stopped there.  Noooo!  Not by a long shot.  The very next morning, just before Kimmie left for work, she was at it again.  Yup!  Here it comes.  Cover your ears if you don’t want to hear this…uh…sorry, you’re reading not listening…I think.  Anyway, she hit me with another one.  “Gramps,” she said before walking out.  “I need you to do something for me today.”

Blow the leaves, clean the house, do the laundry….  At least that’s what I was expecting.

“I need you to create another Christmas list for yourself.

I stared at her in disbelief, which wasn’t anything like I was staring at her a moment later.

I need you to create a list of at least twenty-five different things you’d like to have that are made for either an adult baby, or especially for a sissy baby.  Not baby toys this time, but other baby or even sissy things you want.  And when I say baby, you might want to look at things that are made for adult babies if it’s anything where size might matter.  Also, if you like, you can include any…um…sex toys you might want as well.  Twenty-five again Gramps, just like the baby toys.  And don’t forget the links so they can be found easily.”  With another of her nasty smiles, she was gone.  I wet my diaper right then and there.

Let me tell you, twenty-five items is actually a lot more than anyone might think.  And to make matters worse, it took me no time to realize that I had better find only things that wouldn’t be too humiliating for me.  Why?  Because Kimmie had a nasty habit of taking me out in public dressed in ways that were…questionable.  Is that putting it politely enough?  So for my own sanity, and the sanity of everyone in the world who might possibly “see me,” everything I listed had better be as normal looking and as vanilla as possible.

Yeah right!  With the things she wanted on that so-called Christmas list, I quickly discovered that, like with the baby girl toys, twenty-five items that weren’t overly humiliating didn’t exist.  Like with the toys, five items that weren’t too humiliating didn’t exist.  Nothing that would be too humiliating for me existed at all.  Once again, it was mission impossible.

Somewhere in the middle of my day, I figured out that these lists that she wanted were actually her way of making me actively humiliate myself, both in having to make the list, and then when the time came to actually use, wear, or play with all those things.  That is…if…she actually intended on getting me any of them.  If anything, it was more like she might get me just one or two things from both lists combined.

Uh-oh!  If she was going to get me Christmas presents, then what was I going to get her?  That was the bigger problem, for lots of reasons that are pretty easy to figure out.  Like how was I actually going to go out and get her anything dressed the way I was?

As I searched and searched the huge number of internet sites, I realized that the number of items available for adult babies was both vast and limited at the same time.  Yes, there’s a vast number of items out there, but at the same time, those items fell into a limited number of categories.  There’s really just a lot of variations on the same thing.  Plus, there are things like spiked booties and pacifier gags that fell into several categories at the same time.  But did I want spiked booties or a pacifier gag?  Hell no!  It was bad enough that I had to worry about anything else Kimmie might dress me in.  I didn’t need anything to make my life more miserable than it already was.  Make me more miserable?  Everything I could possibly put on my list was likely to do that.

Several hours later, several baby bottles later, several attempted pooping sessions later, and several pacifier meditation sessions later, I began to think of it all as, what “kinky” dress would I rather wear.  Or what “kinky” baby item would make my life more humiliating.  Those were the choices it seemed to come down to.

With a sigh, and wanting the entire exercise to come to an end so I’d never have to think about it again, I listed one last desperate item just to complete the twenty-five things.  A pair of pink little girl shoes with bows on the toes that actually locked so I couldn’t get them off, kind of like the pink high heels that were somewhere still in my closet that I hadn’t seen in some time now.  The item description had named the shoes, Sissy Trainers.  Kimmie would probably love them just for the item name alone.

That evening, when Kimmie got home, she asked if I had completed the list.  I showed it to her, but she didn’t bother really looking at it.  “I’ll check it later,” she told me.

After all the effort I had put into it, I was disappointed that she wasn’t more interested.  But I had an important question that I needed to discuss with her.  “Kimmie?” I said.

She sighed.  “What?”

“I need to get you a Christmas present.  But…the only time I ever go out is with you, and…”

“And what?”

“And…I’m not going out like this!”

She looked at me strangely.  “Gramps, you always go out like that.  What’s your problem?”

I looked at her in disbelief.  “My problem?  Really?”

She quickly shook her head.  “Gramps!  Stop it.  Think!  You’re a baby!  Not a grown man anymore.  Babies don’t buy anything, let alone Christmas presents.  And since you’re a baby, you don’t need to worry about that either.  You don’t need to worry about anything at all.  Nothing.  Just…enjoy being a baby.”

Okay, so she didn’t want a present from me, but the way she had said it, plus watching her, it didn’t take me long though to realize that once again she had something troubling on her mind.

A little while later, we were again walking the perimeter of the backyard.  It was then that she hit me with it, and it hit me hard enough to hurt…mentally, not physically, although maybe it was physically too.

“Gramps,” she said.  “I think having you try to poop in your diaper every thirty minutes isn’t working very well.”

“That’s for sure!” I greed wholeheartedly.  It really was a nuisance.

“Sorry Gramps,” she said, “but I need you to do it every fifteen minutes instead.”

There was nothing on the ground in front of me, but I tripped anyway.  “Kimmie…  That’s…”

“Sorry Gramps,” she said, cutting me off.  “That’s just the way it’s going to be.  “Every fifteen minutes from now on.”

It was too much, and I was about to tell her how I felt about it, when she suddenly said, “Oh, okay.  We’ll cut it back some.”

I started to breath a sigh of relief.

“Instead of doing it twice each time, you only need to do it once.  But Gramps, you better make sure you do it each time…every fifteen minutes…for fifteen seconds.  Hear me?  And you can start right now!”  She looked at her watch and all I wanted to do was hit her.  She looked over at me.  “I’m waiting.”

Darn woman!

Two minutes after I tried to poop while walking again, she was back with something even worse.  There was no buildup.  No warning.  She just came out and said it.  “Gramps.  I know you’re not going to like it, but we’re going back up north for Christmas.”

I was dumbfounded, horrified, and flabbergasted.  “Kimmie…  No!”

“What say do you have in it?  None!” she shot back quickly.

Trust me, I was going to argue that, but she started talking again.

“Don’t worry,” she said.  “We’re not going to Mike’s house this time for Christmas.  We’re staying home with Mom.  It’ll be just the three of us Christmas Day, although Mom says it’s possible that some of the others may drop by, but she’s not counting on it.  So it will be just the three of us for the week.”

“A week?”

“Yes.  A week.”

I thought about that then asked for confirmation, “But we’re not going anywhere.”

“Not for Christmas.  But Mom is looking for places we can go so we don’t have to sit home every day for that long.”

Places to go.  It would be like all the times that Kimmie took me out shopping.  Showing me off.  Humiliating me in public.  Uh-oh.  And for an entire week.  And then I remembered those two Christmas lists she had made me make.  Were they so she could pass them out to the family?  That baby shower had gone better than she expected.  It gave me a lot to think about, and worry about as we continued our walk.  Too much to worry about.  Once again, we were going up north to see the family, and it was a given that it was going to be a very, very bad idea.  Especially for me.

Just so you know, Kimmie somehow managed to rig my cellphone so it would remind me to poop every single fifteen minutes from the time I woke up until the time I went to bed every night.  Every fifteen minutes.  Before long, I was hearing that annoying little ding in my sleep!  I even heard it during my afternoon “enforced” naptime.  Ding!  Ding!  Another ding!  Another!  It was like the sound from hell.

Oh, and remember all those video cameras in the house?  The voice from nowhere and everywhere caught me by surprise a few times.  “Gramps, the timer went off and I didn’t see you move like you’re trying to do something in your diaper…”

What was she doing, watching me nonstop now?  It sure seemed like it.  The darn woman was trying to make sure I actually did try to mess my diaper every fifteen minutes.  Darn woman!  Darn, darn, darn woman!  I was going to kill her one of these days.

It didn’t take long before I was pushing with every little cellphone sound I heard.  Even when someone’s phone on a TV show rang, I automatically grunted and tried to poop.  Soon, it became so bad that when anything made a noise that caught my attention, I automatically tried to push.  And one day I woke up from my nap and a little while later realized there was a load in the back of my diaper that hadn’t been there before I went to sleep.  How the hell did that happen?

When I complained to Kimmie that the constant dinging reminder was too much, too many times, and it was driving me crazy, she just looked at me with that totally wicked smile and said, “Good!  That’s what it’s supposed to do.  Keep at it.”

Yeah, I really was going to kill her.

Darn woman!  Darn, darn, darn woman!

 

Gramps - Chapter 23

 

Gramps

By Karen Singer

 

Chapter 23

 

I don’t know why they call it “Black” Friday.  I do know that for some people it’s their favorite day of the year.  The sale prices in the stores make it one of the most important days of the year to many businesses, because those sale prices bring out people to shop by the thousands.  Everywhere!  You would think that a term like “black” would conjure up images of something morbid or bad, but nobody I knew ever considered Black Friday to be bad.  In fact, most of the women I knew lived for it.

But I can tell you that, that Black Friday there was a deep black hole in my soul.  A hole that would never heal.

I don’t know if it was early or not.  With no clock in the room, it was hard to tell.  All I can say is that it felt early, and that was despite the fact that I hadn’t slept much all night.  The hurt and thoughts about what I had done to myself and my family were simply too strong.  But my door suddenly opened and I saw Kimmie poke her head in.  Seeing me awake, she came all the way in and closed the door softly behind her.

She headed straight for my bed.  “Move over a little,” she told me.  I slid my body sideways and moved my bear to the other side of me.  She pulled the covers back, slid off her robe, and slid in next to me.  “Turn sideways, away from me,” she said.

It took a bit of doing, but I was soon on my side with her snuggled tightly to my back.  Her arm came over me and hugged me tightly from behind for a moment.  Her arm left me and I felt her moving around, doing something.  Her arm came back, but when it did, she slid that damn singing doll under my arm, making me hold it.  I couldn’t toss it away because her arm was soon hugging me again, trapping my arm and that doll.  She stopped hugging me tightly, but her arm around me stayed.

“I’m so sorry Gramps,” she said softly near my ear.  “So, so very sorry.”  I wanted to answer, so I started to move my arm to pull the pacifier from my mouth.  “Don’t!” she whispered quickly.  “Don’t take it out.  You don’t need to say anything.  It’s all my fault.  Not yours.  I just need to apologize.”

I couldn’t see her.  I couldn’t move or answer her.  All I could do was lay there and feel her body snuggled against me, and her arm lovingly wrapped over me.

“I thought it would be okay,” she told me.  “Mom assured me it would all be just fine.  Oh, and she’s really sorry too.  She’ll probably apologize later herself, so don’t be surprised.”

I didn’t need any apologies.  And it wasn’t their fault.  It was all mine!  I had figured that much out by myself.  My fault.  My fault!  My fault!

“Please believe me,” she continued, “when I tell you how much I love you, which is…more than you can imagine.  Please Gramps.  I really do love you so much.  No.  Not like you’re probably thinking.  You men.  You always only think about one thing – sex!  Not like that.  But my love is a lot deeper than that.  Just…believe me Gramps.”

She paused and sighed for a moment, then said, “I wish I could fix things for you.  I wish like crazy I could find some way to fix everything.  But…I just don’t know how.  Mom doesn’t know either.  We’d both like to fix things for you, but…we can’t.  I’m sorry for that too.”

Fix things?  They couldn’t fix things.  It was too late.  The damage had already been done.  And once that kind of damage happens, there is no fixing it.  Ever!

“But just know that I love you Gramps.  I love you with all my heart.  And I promise to always love you, and protect you as well as I can.  I promise Gramps.  I promise!”

She said nothing more after that.  She just laid there behind me with her arm over me.  Snuggling against me.  She felt…nice doing that.  It wasn’t long before I heard her breathing change.  She had fallen asleep.  I hadn’t slept much myself all night.  Not after yesterday.

And now it was Black Friday.  What black hearted things would come my way today?  More deep dark black holes of regret.  I was sure of that.

It was a while before Kimmie woke up again.  When she moved, it woke me from the light troubled slumber I had finally succumbed to.

“Good morning baby,” she said softly.  “Let’s get you up and changed.  Okay?”

Yeah.  My diaper was soaked, as usual.  Changing me was absolutely fine with me.

A little while later, breakfast was served.  Since I had gotten baby cereal for breakfast the day before, I was betting I was going to get it again.  Yes!  I won that bet!  Baby food!  Yuck!

Ashley had dressed me in another skirt outfit for the day.  Short skirt, light blue knitted top, blue tights, and red little girl shoes with the decorations on them.  Easy.  Casual.  I certainly didn’t need anything special since I would be spending the entire day dragging my butt around on the floor, being made to go from toy, to toy, to toy.  Why couldn’t they make baby toys more interesting?  If they did, I’m sure they would be much more educational than the ones that I had.

A few times Kimmie came over to me and whispered, “Are you pushing Gramps?  Or do we need to keep you doing your exercises here too instead of just at home?”

I got the point and started pushing immediately.  It wasn’t long before my diaper was messy, smelly, and miserable.  Kimmie chuckled as she walked away, leaving me like that.  Darn woman!

I was happy though.  Mid-morning, my diaper got changed and I was soon clean, dry, and happy.  Uh…the dry part didn’t last long since Kimmie had me drink another baby bottle of juice.  Darn that stuff can run right through you.

I had colorful baby food again for lunch, while I watched Kimmie and Ashley eating leftover turkey and dressing.  Not fair!  I loved turkey and dressing, especially leftovers.  A little while later, it was nap time again.  This time I was tired.  I guess because  I didn’t sleep well the night before.  I don’t remember much about that, which has to mean that I was out like a light.  I do remember though that it kind of surprised me later when they woke me up that my diaper was so wet.  When they had put me down to sleep, it had only been a little wet.  I guess I had been too tired to remember much each time I woke up to pee.

It wasn’t Kimmie, but Ashley who came into my room to wake me from my nap.  “Hi Dad,” she said as she came in, her words pulling me awake.  “Sleep okay?”

Pacifier!  Couldn’t answer!

She came over and pulled the covers off me and helped me out of bed.  “Stay there a second,” she told me.  She pulled out the changing mat plastic tablecloth and laid it out on the bed.  I was soon lying down on top of it.  I was more than a bit shocked that she was going to change me.  I’m sure she could see the hesitation and worry about that on my face.  “Don’t worry,” she told me.  “There’s nothing there I haven’t seen many times before.”

That was mostly true.  But there was one thing I was betting she might not have seen.  Still, if I refused to let her change me, I had no doubt that Kimmie would subject me to another “who’s the baby” lecture.

It didn’t take long before she pulled my diaper down.  My own daughter exposing me in all my babified glory.  How humiliating.  Especially when she noticed the one thing that I was betting she probably hadn’t seen before.

“Oh!” she said once the chastity device had been exposed.  “Kimmie told me about that, but I didn’t realize she was going to use it on you up here.”  Her fingernail tapped the flat surface of the front several times.  “Is it fun?” she asked.

I didn’t reply, and not just because I couldn’t with that thing in my mouth.  I didn’t nod, I didn’t shake my head, I just stared back at her challengingly.  A second later, she went back to changing me.  Yeah, I could tell.  She was another one who’d had lots of practice.

After the way things had gone the day before with the family, I was more than glad to spend the entire day in relative quiet, playing with my toys and watching cartoons on TV.  Even being forced to do that all day was far better than facing the indignation of the family.

Maybe Black Friday wasn’t so black for me after all.  But that didn’t mean that the black hole in my soul didn’t remain all too prominent.  I doubted I would ever get over it.

 

After everything being quiet and calm all day Friday, I wasn’t sure what to expect for Saturday.  If anybody asked me, I’d tell them I wanted to go home Saturday.  I would have preferred to go home on Thursday after that miserable late lunch that didn’t exactly happen.  In fact, I would have preferred to never have come up here to see the family at all.  But none of that happened, and Kimmie appeared to be sticking to her plan to leave on Sunday to go home.

The good news was that Saturday was almost a carbon copy of Friday for me.  Another skirt outfit similar to what Kimmie put me in the day before, and lots, and lots of time spent on the floor with all those toys I hated…loved so much.

I said almost a carbon copy (I wonder how many of you out there even know what a carbon copy actually is?  Look it up!)  There was one very notable, humongous difference that I couldn’t ignore if I tried.

It’s called – baby shower!

It didn’t happen until late Saturday afternoon.  And darn it all, nobody warned me…or reminded me about it.  Yeah, I vaguely remember Kimmie mentioning it once, but after what happened on Thursday, you’d think anything like that would be cancelled.  Nope!  Not at all.  Not since it was a chance for the women to get together and party.

Before the party, I got stuck into the bathtub for another scrub by Kimmie.  The bath water didn’t have bubbles, but it was purple and smelled flowery.  By the time Kimmie let me out, I smelled just as weird.

Lots and lots of baby powder followed.  More than usual, and she rubbed it on me in places she didn’t usually put it.  In moments I went from smelling weirdly flowery to smelling like nothing but baby powder.  You already know I’m not going to mention that she put a diaper on me next.  No tights.  Instead, she stuck a pair of those frilly little girl socks on my feet, followed by the red little girl shoes.

Then she dropped something new over my head.  It was…I don’t know what you’d call it.  Some kind of baby girl looking top?  No, that’s not a strong enough description.  I think it was supposed to be a dress, but with it that short I’m not sure you could actually call it a dress.  It was pastel yellow and white, lightweight airy material, short cap sleeves with lace around them.  Lace across the tight-fitting bodice, and the rest of it flared out and got wider the longer it got, which actually only came down past the top of my diaper.  And that’s it.  It fastened with a single button at the back.  No bra!  I couldn’t believe it.  It felt so good to go without one for a while.

And then she attacked my hair while her mother made suggestions that Kimmie just had to try.  I think they spent almost half an hour, winding up doing very little to my head other than what Kimmie usually did to it, except that I do know that she clipped two big red bows into my hair.  I saw the bows before she put them in, so I knew they were there, one at the back of each side of my head.  The end result though…I couldn’t see.  I’m not sure I wanted to see it.  I was planning on looking in the mirror as soon as they were done, but that didn’t happen.  When they declared me finished, Kimmie had me get down on my hands and knees, and crawl all the way from my bedroom into the living room.

“No more walking tonight!” Kimmie told me sternly.  “You crawl like a baby only.  In fact, don’t even stand up…ever!  Got that?”

I couldn’t answer.  You know the reason.  It’s the reason I didn’t usually answer anyone.  But what would anyone care about what a baby had to say anyway.

Two minutes later, Ashley handed me a baby bottle full of juice to drink.  Big mistake!  Didn’t they know how fast that stuff ran through me?  I’d be peeing and wet before anybody knew it, and they had just changed and dressed me.

The two women disappeared after that, leaving the “baby” unattended again.  Wasn’t that a crime or something?  When I finished my bottle, I automatically stuck my paci back in my mouth.  I was so used to it now that it almost felt weird to not have something to suck on.

Eventually, Ashley and Kimmie came back to the living room, both of them dressed nicer than they had been before.  Ashley had some things in her hand.  She got down on the floor with me and my toys, grabbed my face with one hand, and began brushing something lightly on my cheeks.  When she finished with that, she pulled the plug from my mouth and spread a touch of something on my lips.  Then she pushed the pacifier right back into my mouth again.  Why had she bothered with my lips?  Nobody was ever going to see them.

While Kimmie had been busy doing that, Ashley began moving all my toys further into the corner of the room.  Kimmie had me crawl over to them and play there.  And then the doorbell rang, and the panic hit me full force again.  This was bad!  This was very, very bad!  Why hadn’t they cancelled this party?

A moment later, Jenny walked into the room with her two daughters, Allison and Madison.  They were all carrying gifts.  They greeted and hugged Ashley and Kimmie, then they all came over to “see” me.  They didn’t exactly talk to me.  Instead, they talked about me.

“Oh my goodness, look at that sweet top he’s wearing.  It’s so pretty!”

“Doesn’t he look just like a baby?”

“I saw those shoes on Thursday at Marie’s, but I didn’t get a chance to ask.  Where did you ever find them?”

You get the picture, I’m sure.

The doorbell rang and more women arrived.  More gifts.  More comments about me.

“I love the pattern on his diapers.  It’s so darling.  So babyish…even though I’ve never seen any actual baby diapers that look like that.”

“Is he…do the pictures on his diaper disappear when he’s wet?  Because if so, then it doesn’t look like he’s dry anymore.”

I don’t know what all those women were drinking, but the more of them that showed up, the louder and giddier they all seemed to get.  When I realized that, I took more careful note of the glasses and cups in their hands.  Yes, I saw a few wine glasses, but most of them had coffee mugs or regular glasses that looked to contain soda or something.  All I can tell you though is that the noise level continued to get louder, and the laughing and talking continued to get busier and more excited. 

“Oh no.  Kimberly wanted a pretty little girl, so we’ve got to call him her, not him.”

“No, no!”  Someone else shouted a few minutes later.  “She can’t keep calling him Gramps.  Not if he’s a little girl now.  We need a better name!”

That statement became the start of a lengthy game of name calling.  All girl’s names that the women came up with and laughed at.  All of them girl’s names that they thought Kimmie should rename me.

“Kimmie!  Think about it.  You could even legally change his name.”

“Wouldn’t that be a scream?” one of them laughed.

“I wonder how he’d feel about that?” another one contemplated.  And then they all laughed loud and long.  I just sat there and wet my diaper over the idea.  My pacifier was getting sucked on a lot harder than usual too.  I was going to wear it out soon if I kept at it like that.  But I figured I had good reason to keep sucking as hard as I was.  Kimmie would be proud of me though.  All my sucking was just the way she wanted me to do it.  I wasn’t chewing on the thing at all.  Too much practice I guess.

And then the time came for Kimmie to open all their gifts.  I started trying to pay extra attention to that, but with everyone crowded around, I really couldn’t see much from my position in the corner of the floor.

How many times can those women say ooo, ah, and oh?  How many times can they laugh?  It seemed like an endless number of times for all of it.  A number of times I heard the words, “specially made for big babies.”  Had some of those women actually bought stuff made for adult babies?  It sounded like it.

Despite not being able to see, I heard about adult sized diapers, baby bibs, baby toys, clothes, a changing mat, and jewelry.  I’m sure there were other things too, but as I said, I couldn’t actually see any of it.  Something told me though that I’d get more than ample time to not just see, but experience everything those women had brought for Kimmie…which I already knew was in reality all for me.

I got the impression that Kimmie had no intention of ending her little games with me anytime soon.  That thought, along with thoughts about what had happened Thursday, made my future sound more ominous than ever.

And then Kimmie came over to me, grabbed me by the hand, and had me crawl over to the middle of the living room where Ashley was rolling something out on the floor.  “Lay down baby,” Kimmie told me softly.  I realized the thing on the floor was a new changing mat.  Was Kimmie going to change me here?  Now?  In front of all those women?  I looked up at her questioningly, but the moment I did, I saw that look on her face that told me she was prepared to lecture me about who was the baby in the family again.  With a sinking feeling, and more than a few worries about what a bad idea this was, I laid on my back on that mat.  Cushioned.  Nice.

All the women were talking, including Kimmie.  All of them were watching from either up close, or back in their chairs.  In the center of the living room, I was the center of attention.  Or rather, my diaper was.

Since my top didn’t cover much of my diaper, and my socks didn’t come anywhere close to it, all Kimmie had to do was pull the fastening tapes open and pull it down to fully expose me in front of all of them.

“Oh my God!”  Someone exclaimed.

“Look at that thing!” someone else laughed.

“It’s completely flat!” another of them noted.

“How can he pee out of it?” still another one asked.

“Are you kidding?” someone replied.  “Did you see how wet his diaper is?  He’s got no problem peeing through it at all.”

With that, Kimmie explained that there as a six inch tube running inside my penis that made sure peeing would be no problem for me at all.  Yes, the women all laughed at that too.

“Can I touch it?” one of them asked.

“Me too!”

I was soon subjected to woman after woman touching and tapping on my chastity device.  They even pulled on the tight waist band that kept it pulled tightly to my body.

“He certainly can’t get it off,” one of them noted.

“And he can’t get himself off either,” someone added.

“Isn’t that the point?” another of them said.

Yes, again they all had to laugh.

That had to be the longest and most embarrassing diaper change I had ever experienced.

Eventually I noticed though that the number of women was diminishing.  Eventually, they all left.  It was just Ashley, Kimberly, and me in the house once again.  Ash and Kimmie both disappeared leaving me alone with my toys.  I really needed to speak to Kimmie about that.  Leaving babies unattended like that was dangerous.  You never knew what could happen to them.

I was still on the floor in the corner of the living room when Ash and Kimmie came back and started cleaning up.  They both still ignored me, but the two of them seemed to be very happy.

I guess despite the men in the family, despite the things that had happened on Thursday, the women had all come together to have their little party.  Their baby shower, for a big, overgrown, very old baby.  Me.  I believe women love baby showers.  I guess any reason is a good excuse to have one.  Even Kimmie and her new baby…me.

Yeah.  No matter how I looked at it.  Despite the events of Thursday.  This baby shower had been a success.  I guess Kimmie and her mother had good reason to be happy.  I felt glad for them.  But that black hole in my soul was still just as deep and black as ever.

 

Sunday morning, Kimmie and I got back in her car.  It was now loaded with things from front to back, top to bottom, and everywhere in between.  I was stuck in the backseat again wearing another skirt outfit.  My black patent little girl shoes had made another appearance and were back on my feet, along with both pink tights and white lacy socks.  Kimmie hugged and kissed her mother, and Ashley leaned into the car to hug and kiss me.

“Love you Dad,” she told me.  “Don’t fret too much about the family.  Let me worry about them.  You just…try to enjoy your life, okay?”

I said nothing.  Pacifier, remember?

She hugged me again then closed the rear door of the car.  A minute later, Kimmie was on the road and we were heading home.

The road seemed to be packed with cars.  How many people saw me dressed the way I was, sucking on either a pacifier or a baby bottle?  Several times, accidents slowed the highway to an absolute crawl.  Still, Kimmie had no choice but to keep driving.  When she finally stopped for lunch, it was at another fast-food restaurant, and again she insisted that I go inside.  Yes, I was quite a sight for everyone to see.  Yes, I wet my diaper as soon as I walked into the place.  I couldn’t help it.  At least Kimmie let me drink from a straw again.

When she stopped for gas, she changed my diaper afterwards.  Then it was back on the road, but I was still in the backseat.  I stayed there, completely silent with that pacifier in my mouth all the way home.

You have no idea how relieved I was to pull into our driveway.  You have no idea how relieved I was going into my own house.

I was relieved, but that black hole in my soul remained.  My son.  My oldest child had disowned me.  He no longer considered me to be his father.

What hurt even more, was that everything he had said about me had been absolutely true.  I was a disappointment, not only to him, but more so, to myself.  I had allowed myself to come to this point, and I didn’t know what I could do about it.  Worse, I already knew the answer to that.  I wasn’t going to even try to do anything about it.  The damage had already been done and there was no fixing it.

This was my life now.  Me and Kimmie.  I guessed, for as long as she wanted things to be this way.