Gramps - Chapter 10

 

Gramps

By Karen Singer

 

Chapter 10

 

People my age grew up in a different world than exists today.  Differences that I’m sure the younger generations of the world don’t fully understand.  I’m not going to discuss it all, but I would like to mention one of those strange differences that I never imagined would happen.  Shopping.  For most of my life, if you wanted something you just went to the store and bought it.  Now you go to your computer or phone instead and buy it online, and it arrives a few days later.  Buying things online has become too easy.  Trust me, that’s true because if I can do it, then it must be easy.  Even I have bought stuff online.  Where do you think all my diapers came from?

Kimmie was a shopper.  I guess now that she had a good job and very few expenses since she lived in my house, she could afford it and bought stuff in the stores all the time.  But she also bought a lot of stuff online.  Most weeks a few packages came for her, and I would soon see her wearing something new around the house.  Especially shoes.  That girl seemed to love buying shoes!  In fact, I think she was interested in anything at all related to shoes, including me!  Um…I’m not exactly related to shoes, but Kimmie suddenly became a bit more fixated on my footwear, particularly my sissy footwear.  You know what I mean.

I had two pairs of sissy shoes, the black patent little girl Mary Janes that I secretly adored, and the heels that strapped onto my feet.  Kimmie’s interest in those shoes though started on Monday, the day after our latest fiasco at the grocery store.

As always, I got powdered and diapered after my morning shower (oh, I wasn’t going to mention that anymore, was I).  After all the stuff she had put on me the day before, I was really glad when she simply gave me a sweatshirt to wear on top.  Not only that, but it was one of my sweatshirts, not hers. 

“You need bras!” she declared as she looked at me in that sweatshirt.

I said nothing for two reasons.  Number one, I didn’t want her to get any ideas that might make her do anything about that statement, and secondly, if I said anything, I was afraid she’d shove that stupid pacifier back in my mouth.  I made no response at all.

But then she did something that totally surprised me.  She went back to my dresser and pulled out a package of the pantyhose she had bought yesterday.  My heart soared.  I’d get to wear something to cover my stupid diaper and keep it from being seen.  Of course, the sight of the pantyhose made me afraid she’d give me a skirt to wear next, but hey, anything to cover up my embarrassing diaper.  But when she pulled the pantyhose out of the packaging, I realized they weren’t pantyhose at all.  They were stockings.  Individual stockings for each leg.  They would cover my legs, but not one bit of my damn diaper.  Ugh!  Still, I let her pull one up on each of my legs.  When I stood up, they seemed to grip my thighs at the top of each stocking.

“Those things should help keep your legs a bit warmer,” she told me.

Warmer?  I looked at the thin material.  How much warmer would they be?  Not much I was betting.  Still, it was something.

“They’re supposed to stay up,” Kimmie added, “but trust me, they do and they don’t.  You’ll probably have to pull them up more often than you think.”

Still, I made no response.  Good for me!

But she was still staring at my legs.  “I think tonight we need to stick you in the tub and clean you up a bit more than you are now,” she told me.

I was shocked.  I had just gotten out of the shower.  I wanted badly to say something about that but, you know, don’t give her any ideas, and the pacifier.

She went to my closet and, no surprise, came back with my high heels that she buckled onto my feet.  Then she stood back and looked at those shoes.  “We’ve really got to get you some new shoes,” she said as she looked down at the heels she had just stuck on me.  “Those things don’t exactly look that great, and your black ones are starting to look a bit worn.  You need new ones!”

Did I dare say anything?  Nope!  Not a word.  You already know the two reasons. 

She sighed.  “Okay,” she said.  “Keep that stuff on all day and don’t take any of it off for any reason.  You can change your diaper at two o’clock, but not one minute before.  Understand?”

I kept my big mouth shut and just looked at her.

“I’ll text you for pictures again.  And trust me Gramps, you better send me something every time or believe me, you’re not going to be very happy about it.”

I started to open my mouth to ask what she would do about it, but I caught myself just in time.

She kissed me on the forehead and told me to have a good day.  Then she was off to finish getting herself ready for work.  Ten minutes later, she was out the door.

Ha!  No pacifier!  Hip, hip hooray!

Forty-five minutes later, Kimmie sent me her first text demanding pictures of what I as wearing.  Unfortunately, that’s not all it demanded.  She told me to put my pacifier in my mouth and keep it there, and that she’d be looking for pictures of that too.

How would she know if I didn’t keep it in my mouth?  I could leave it out, then only put it in when she wanted to see it.  Problem solved!

Yeah.  Problem solved.  How wrong I was.  Her next text demanded to see the pacifier, and the picture had to include some drool running down my chin as well.  Shit!  To do that, I had to keep the damn thing in my mouth! 

Darn woman!

By the time two o’clock came around, I was dying to change my diaper.  I watched the clock intently.  At one minute after two, I took a closeup picture of my soaked and messy diaper and sent it off, then I went off to my bathroom to change it for a fresh one.  Ah…relief.  And trust me, it was a relief to get rid of that heavy, uncomfortable thing.  She didn’t ask for it, but I sent her another close up picture, this time of my fresh diaper.  I have no idea in the world why I bothered.  She never even replied.

That night when she got home from school, as was often the case, there was a bit of drool helping to keep my chin from drying out.  I hated the feel of it there, but what if she demanded to see it?  Then I remembered how silly I was being.  I left the pacifier in though as she came over to greet me.  She smiled, bonked my pacifier with her finger, then kissed me on my forehead.  “Hi Gramps,” she said.  “How was your day?”

I wanted to say it was stupid and embarrassing, but instead, with that pacifier still in my mouth I tried to say it was fine.  Unfortunately, what came out was “Uh…ah…eh.”  Perfectly understandable, right?  The darn woman smiled, laughed, and bonked my pacifier again.  “Good,” she replied as if she had understood every word of that.

Totally stupid!  Darn woman!  Have I said that before?

Um…okay.  I got off track here.  We were talking about shoes and Kimmie’s unending fascination with them.  After dinner, she dragged me into my home office and had me sit in one of the chairs there while she sat in front of my computer.  Where I was seated, I could easily see the screen, but she had all the control.

“What are we doing?” I asked.  “Buying more diapers?”

“Nope,” she replied.  “Buying shoes.  If we can find any for you that I like.”

Something in what she had just said caught my attention.  “For me?”

“Yup!  Don’t be so surprised.  You need them!  I mentioned it this morning and you should have figured that much out yourself.”

No, I shouldn’t have.  The only thing I figured out for myself so far was to not mention anything to her, especially my pacifier, which just then was not in my mouth.  Trust me, I wasn’t going to mention it.

Kimmie spent a long time searching through shoe sources.  I was paying more attention than I probably should have since she had said whatever we were buying was going to be for me.  An hour and a half later, I was in a slight state of shock.  I had just purchased another pair of little girl shoes, this time in bright shiny red and with some kind of decoration on the buckle where the strap connected.  I had also bought a pair of what she called plain black pumps, the kind that Kimmie claimed no woman should ever be without.  I wanted to point out that I wasn’t a woman, but somehow I didn’t think she’d care.  And then there was the third pair.  Pink (of course), in fact, very pink, stiletto high heels.  The black pumps were high heels too, but not like these were.  These were a lot higher and the heel was practically nothing in width.  But that wasn’t the real problem with those heels.  The real problem was that they had a strap that would fasten around my ankle…and lock!  And I already knew that Kimmie thought they were funny and intended on taking every advantage of that little feature.

Darn woman!  And I’m not sorry for saying that again.  Darn, darn woman!

That night, I had another reason to curse that darn woman.  She had been changing me into my nighttime diaper every night at nine o’clock.  Then I could go out and watch another hour of TV.  Usually the process went fairly quickly so I only missed about five minutes or so of the next show.  But not that night.  Nooooo!

At eight thirty, she forced me out of my nice comfortable chair and into the bathroom.  “Clean up time!” she declared.

I had no idea what she meant by that, but I watched as she turned the water on in the bathtub.  I didn’t take many baths.  Ruthie did.  She took them all the time.  But not me.  I was a shower guy.

While the water was running, she started undressing me…all the way, the shoes, the stockings, my sweatshirt, and yes, even my diaper.  Then I got put into the tub and she began washing my body with the nice warm water.  No!  I won’t admit how nice it felt.  Especially not where she might find out.

The washing was nice.  What came next, wasn’t!  She pulled out one of her own razors, started spreading soap all over one of my legs, then she shaved that entire leg…and the other leg…and my arms…and my armpits…and the front of my body…and my back…and she spent an eternity shaving my ass area, and even longer shaving my balls.  By the time she was done, the only hair on my body was on top of my head.  Oh, and my eyebrows that she mentioned she should pluck and shape.  Fortunately, she didn’t.

“Much better!” she declared when she was finished and took the time to look me over.

Better?  I just felt more embarrassed than ever.

“Now those stockings should look a lot better on you.” 

Somehow, I doubted that.  My legs weren’t exactly girly…or beautiful…or even nice looking anymore.  I was an old man now.

By the time she finished, she powdered me, stuck a nighttime diaper on me, pulled that silly, girly sleep top over my head, and stuck me into bed.  She was back with my warm bottle a few minutes later.  “Night Gramps,” she said as she kissed my forehead before turning out the light.

I had completely missed my evening TV shows!  But what did she care?  All she was interested in was buying shoes.  Oh, and making sure my legs looked good enough to wear them, which I already knew they still didn’t!

As I laid there drinking that bottle (and enjoying it), my mind was filled with the evening’s activities.  I tried to imagine what wearing any of those three pairs of shoes I had bought would feel like.  I had no doubt the locking stilettos would be uncomfortable, but would they be fun?  Maybe.  I would have to find out.  And I already knew that finding out was on the not too distant horizon for me.  But it was the new little girl style shoes that had caught my interest the most.  I don’t know why, but they excited me far more than the other two pairs with high heels…the two grownup pairs.

When my bottle was finished, I turned over in the dark of my room, and I humped my bed as I often did, this time, my mind imagining wearing those shoes out in different situations, particularly in public.  My humping didn’t last as long as it usually did, and soon I was berating myself for getting into that situation in the first place.  As usual, all I could think about was how I could possibly get out of my diaper situation.  And as usual, no answers came to me.  But as often happened, I remembered how nice it was that I could do something like that in my diaper, and I didn’t even have to worry about cleaning anything up afterwards.  That was the job of the diaper.

One final thing crossed my mind.  What would Kimmie throw at me next?  I was afraid to find out.  Suddenly, sleep didn’t come as easily as I thought it would.

Darn woman!

 

Gramps - Chapter 9

 

Gramps

By Karen Singer

 

Chapter 9

 

Um…did I happen to mention going grocery shopping earlier?  Yeah, I’m pretty sure I did.  So it should come as no surprise to any of you that the next day, Sunday, Kimmie dragged me out of the house again.  And trust me, once again it was against my will.  In fact, more against my will than ever.

Let’s see.  How the heck can I describe this?  I guess just the usual.  Start from the beginning.  By which I mean what she put me in from the time I got out of the shower Sunday morning.  Hey, it should come as no surprise to any of you that she put a diaper and plenty of baby powder on me.  I mean, that should be a given by now, right?  I shouldn’t even have to mention it.  But after that, she only stuck the high heels on my feet and threw that sweatshirt of hers at me to wear again.  And that’s it…for a while.  Trust me.  I felt grateful for just that much.  Although I would have much rather not been wearing the diapers.  She still wasn’t giving in on that issue at all, no matter how much I complained.  Which I did, as usual, and as usual she stuck that damn pacifier back in my mouth.  Why had I bought those stupid things?  I certainly couldn’t say anything at all with one of them in my mouth.  But I’m guessing that was the whole point of them to Kimmie.  Yeah, yeah.  They were babyish and that seemed to make her happy too.

But of course, that was just my outfit for while I was in the house so there would be nothing at all to cover up the diaper that I was sick and tired of wearing, but had no choice in the issue. 

But it was Sunday, and we often did our grocery shopping for the week on Sundays.  And I already knew from the day before that Kimmie was planning on doing it again.  Although I’m not sure if she was more interested in groceries or in showing me off to her students.  I guess both.  In fact, I’d bet it was both.  Especially knowing her.

So a little while after breakfast, Kimmie dragged me from the living room back into my bedroom.  “Right,” she said once she got me there.  She looked me over, then grabbed the sweatshirt I was wearing and pulled it off my body.  The stupid heels I was wearing went next.  Then Kimmie grabbed something from my dresser where I now noticed a pile of clothes I hadn’t seen before.  Obviously hers.  Or rather hers…meant for me to wear.  Whatever it was that she had grabbed, was pink.  Surprise!

“This isn’t exactly the style I had in mind for you, especially today,” she said.  “But it fits me nice and loose, so it should fit you with no problem at all.”

I could see now that it was a pink blouse.  I could also see that the sleeves were long…uh…longish.  I doubted they would cover my entire arms.  Not only that, but the material appeared to be very thin.  The arms and the bottom four or five inches of the blouse were decorated with a wide band of some kind of lacy looking effect that was more holes than material.  I sure hoped I’d be wearing a jacket over top of that thing, or I was going to freeze.  In fact, I needed the jacket just to keep the damn thing covered up.

“This really needs a bra under it,” she told me as she buttoned up the few buttons on the front of it.  “But I decided that a bra would send the wrong message for what I want you to be today.”

What she wanted me to be?  I wanted to ask what that was, but my mouth was still plugged.

“We need to get you a few bras anyway,” she said.  “Just for those times when you should be wearing one.”

I shuddered at the thought.  And trust me, I had no intention of ever reminding her about that idea.  I didn’t have any bras just then, and I figured things would be best if it stayed that way.

Alright, let’s see…the pink blouse.  Yeah.  Once she had it buttoned up, she went back to my dresser and pulled out my white tights.  Hey, at least I was familiar with those.  I also liked them, but I’d never tell her that.  Heaven only knows what that might lead to.  Nothing good, that’s for sure.

She sat me on the bed and pulled them up my legs, then had me stand again while she pulled the tights up to my waist.  After that, she went back to the pile of things on the dresser.  I was so afraid she was going to grab some kind of skirt.  I was very relieved when I realized she was holding a pair of pants.  Since they were folded, I couldn’t tell much about them…except they were some kind of red checked pattern.  Not exactly manly.  As if anything I’d be wearing was manly in the least.

In the past, I had always worn all my own regular clothes over top of my diaper.  Why couldn’t I do that today?  But no, Kimmie seemed to have other ideas on her mind.  As I mentioned earlier, I was guessing it had something to do with a bunch of kids she expected to see, that I hoped wouldn’t be there.

As she came back to me, she let the pants drop open and I had a bit of a better chance to see them.  The first thing I noticed beyond the red check pattern was that they were shorter than they should be.  They certainly weren’t shorts, but I knew they wouldn’t come down anywhere near my ankles.  As she held them for me to step into, I also realized they didn’t have any kind of fly or zipper on them.  Just an elastic waist.  I stepped into them and let her pull them all the way up, because I had no doubt that if I didn’t, Kimmie just might drag me out the door wearing nothing over top of my diaper at all.  Yeah, I was surprised she wasn’t trying that one since she had been keeping my diaper uncovered all week already.  The pants were tight on my legs as she pulled them up.  I finally realized they were made of some kind of stretchy material, so they fit everything skintight, including my diaper that they now covered.  I could only wonder how visible that diaper was under those checkered pants.  Would the checked pattern hide the diaper outline and bulges?  I could only hope.

She sat me down on the bed and grabbed my little girl shoes that I secretly liked so much.  I just didn’t like wearing them out of the house.  Unfortunately, they were soon buckled on my feet.  She stood back to have a good look at me.  “I think we’re getting there,” she told me.

I wondered what that was supposed to mean.  Getting where? 

I thought she was done with me, but she wasn’t.  She dragged me into my bathroom where she grabbed my comb and started combing my hair.  It took me no time to realize she was running that comb through my hair in directions I never did.

“I’ll say one thing for you Gramps,” she said.  “You’ve always had a nice head of hair.  Real thick.”

Yeah.  I wasn’t like a lot of guys who lost their hair and went varying degrees of bald.  At my age I still had all my hair.  It was just starting to turn grey now, something that Ruthie liked a lot.  I could have cared less about the grey, except that she had liked it.

Kimmie put the comb down and started grabbing my hair with her hands and pulling it up.  She used both hands to smooth and pull my hair so that she was grabbing as much of it as possible, then I felt her doing something up there near the top back of my head, but I couldn’t tell what.  When she pulled her hands away, my hair stayed in the pulled-up configuration she had put it in.  I reached up and felt what she had done.  There was something now wrapped around that stack of hair she had created.  I was guessing it was some kind of elastic band.  More likely, an elastic hairband.

I pulled my pacifier.  “What’s that for?” I asked.

“Hush!” she told me.  Then she grabbed my hand with the pacifier and shoved the thing back into my mouth.  I was guessing so I wouldn’t ask any more stupid questions.  Then she led me back out into my bedroom.

She went back to my dresser and came back with a long length of pink ribbon.  I held my hands up in front of me for her to stop.  “Uh…ah…ih…  Damn.  The stupid plug in my mouth.

“Hush!” she said again.  “Babies don’t get to ask about what they’re wearing, they just wear it…and love it.  So love it, and don’t even think about giving me any trouble.  Now turn around.”  She reached out, grabbed my arms, and physically turned me around so that she was standing behind me.

Love it?  Don’t give her any trouble?  I wondered what would happen if I did.  Something in the back of my brain seemed to remember her mentioning something about punishing me a few days ago, but that was the last I ever heard about that.  Trust me, it was a subject I was determined to not bring up.  She was already a force to be reckoned with.

It took her a few minutes to tie that ribbon onto my hair.  Most of the time I could feel her fussing with it, doing…I don’t know what.  I was glad I couldn’t see the thing back there behind my head…while at the same time, part of me longed to see it.

When she was finally done, she stood back to look at me again.  She had me slowly turn all the way around.  “I think we’re good,” she decided.  “Stay there a minute.”  She went over to my dresser and grabbed her cellphone.  Then she took several pictures of me, including a few from behind.  “All done,” she said.

What did she need the pictures for?  She had me to look at…live!

“Tell you what,” she said.  “If you behave and do what you’re told without fussing about anything, you can wear your jacket, even in the store.  But don’t be surprised if I ask you to take it off for a while.  But like I said, you’ll have to be good.  Got that?”

I got it.  I tried to voice that, but the damn pacifier had other ideas.  I nodded my head and wiped the drool that was threatening to start running down my chin.  I tried to look at myself in the mirror over my dresser, but all I could see was…stupid!  Very, very stupid.  I could see bits of pink behind my head, but since it was behind my head, I couldn’t really see that bow that she had tied in my hair.  I felt funnier about that than all the rest put together.  Although trust me, the entire outfit I was wearing had my stomach in knots.  I had to wonder if wearing my jacket over top of the blouse would be any kind of help at all.  Probably some, I figured, but not much at all.  And then there was the fact that my diaper was already a little wet, and would probably be even wetter before long.  Like it or not, I’d literally be waddling around that store.  Oh joy!

As we walked through the living room, Kimmie stopped and pointed at the floor.  “Sit!” she ordered.

“What?” I tried to say, which you already know didn’t work because of that pacifier between my lips.

“Sit!” she said again.  “On the floor.  Like a baby.  And wait.”

I started to ask for what, but again, the pacifier.

When I didn’t move, she said very sternly.  “Damn it Gramps.  Sit down on the floor!”

Ugh!  I worked my way down to a place that wasn’t the best for someone my age.  I already knew that getting up was going to be difficult.

Kimmie came back a few minutes later with another baby bottle for me.  I wanted to scream!  No!  No!  No!  I didn’t even try to say anything though with that stupid pacifier in my mouth.  Kimmie pulled my paci plug and handed me the bottle.  “Drink.  All of it,” she ordered.

Hating every second of it, I stuck the bottle in my mouth and started drinking.  More of her sports drink.  At least it tasted good.  It hit me then.  She was putting more liquid in my system in hopes that I’d wet myself at the grocery store.  In fact, she was probably hoping I’d wet myself more than once while we were there.  And I was already wet!

Damn the woman!  Have I said that before?  Well, I meant it!

Eventually my bottle was empty.  My mouth certainly wasn’t empty for long though since she immediately shoved that pacifier back into it.  Then she helped me get back to my feet.  I put my jacket on, and we headed into the garage to get into the car…and I stopped dead, right there in the garage.

“Gramps,” she said.  “What are you doing?  Get in the car.”

I pulled the plug from my mouth.  “No!  Kimmie, I can’t go out like this.  It’s stupid.”

“Yes,” she giggled, “it is.”

“That’s the point.  I can’t go out like this.”

She huffed angrily.  Then she came over to me, grabbed my hand, and yanked…hard.  I had no choice but to follow or fall on my face.  She dragged me to her car, opened the door and pushed me inside.  “And put that paci back in your mouth and keep it there,” she threatened.

Two minutes later, we were leaving the driveway behind, heading to the grocery store.  Um…would you believe that I wasn’t exactly happy about things?  Well, I wasn’t.

Instead of taking the usual fifteen minutes to get there, it seemed more like two.  Before I knew it, she was turning into the parking lot and pulling into one of the parking places.  She stopped the car, turned it off, and turned to me.  The tone of her voice wasn’t just firm, it was threatening.  “You’re a baby!  That’s how I’m looking at you.  That’s how I’m considering you.  A baby!  And if you have any questions about that, just remember which one of us is wearing the baby diapers, not to mention the one who’s dressed like a child!  If any of the students show up today, like I suspect there may be, don’t worry about it.  Act your age!  Two!  As far as I’m concerned, as far as they’re concerned, you’re a two-year-old and nothing else.  Remember that.  The reason I expect that some of them may show up is that aside from them asking if I was going shopping today, you’re like a new toy for them to play with, except they can’t touch you.  At least, I’ll try not to let them.  I can’t guarantee that.  It’s fine if they talk about you and ask me questions.  I’ll even show them your diaper again, but if they ask you anything, as long as you keep that pacifier in your mouth you can’t answer.  Hear me?  They can look but they can’t touch.  I hope.  That’s what I want anyway.  So think of yourself as the baby that you want to be.  Enjoy yourself.”

Enjoy myself?  She had to be kidding!

“Now let’s go,” she added before opening her car door.  “And don’t even think about not getting out of the car.  “Come on…baby!”

Ugh!  Slowly, I opened the car door.  And slowly I allowed my body to slink out of the car.  I got as far as the back end of the car when I heard, “Miss Kim!  Miss Kim!”  Yes, I already wanted to die, but I wanted to do that since before we left home.

Two girls ran up to us right there in the parking lot.  Only one of which I recognized.  “You came!” one of them proclaimed.  The other one was too busy staring at me like I was a monster from Mars.  A monster would have looked more sensible than I did, I’m sure.

“We’ve got to get groceries,” Kimmie explained to them.

The girl who I recognized looked me over as we all started walking toward the store.  “I love, love, love his bow.  And his outfit is real…um…interesting.”

“Thank you Loraine,” Kimmie told her.

Loraine.  The name seemed to trigger a memory from last week.  I wondered where the other one was.

Once we got inside, Kimmie grabbed a shopping cart and pushed it to an out of the way area nearby.  Then she turned to me.  She grabbed my jacket and started unzipping it, like an adult undressing a child.  Very softly she said, “You lost your right to wear this when you made a fuss in the garage earlier.  Now behave!”  With that, she removed my jacket and threw it in the shopping cart.  I heard both girls giggling as they looked me over more intently than before. 

“Miss Kim!”

We looked up and there she was.  The other girl from last week.  And she had two other girls with her.  In moments, Kimmie and I had managed to become a crowd. 

“He’s adorable!” the other girl from last week declared.  “I love him.”

She loved me?  I don’t think she meant that in any kind of good way.

“Thank you Judy,” Kimmie told her.  Then she grabbed the shopping cart.  “Excuse us girls, we do have to shop.”  With that, she pushed the cart instead of me and made a path through the girls.  I stayed as close to Kimmie as I could get, and all five of those girls seemed to stay even closer to me.

I felt a very slight tugging at my head and realized one of them had pulled a bit on the bow in my hair.  “God,” one of them said from right behind me.  “The bow just makes his look.”

“Wait till you see his diapers,” Loraine told her.

“As if it isn’t obvious already that he’s wearing them,” Judy added with a laugh.

“Is he wet yet, Miss Kim?” Loraine asked.

Kimmie seemed a bit put off, but she stopped the cart right where we were.  “I guess we can check.”

“Can I check?  Please?” Judy asked.

“No.  I’m sorry, but nobody touches him but me,” Kimmie told her.  “Got that girls?  He’s not a plaything for any of you.  You can look, but you can’t touch.”  The girls all seemed to look very disappointed.  I wasn’t!  Right there and then, Kimmie grabbed my arm and pulled me closer to her.  She pulled those red checked pants down, then pulled the white tights down, exposing my diaper.  Kimmie didn’t even touch the diaper.  “Wet!” she declared.

“Are you going to change him?” one of the girls asked.

“No,” Kimmie told her.  “That diaper he’s wearing can handle a lot.  He’ll be fine till we get home, no matter how much he wets himself.”  She looked directly at me.  “And he knows he better wet himself again before we get out of here.”

I got the point.  The truth was though, I was lucky I hadn’t wet myself already just from fright.

My pants and tights got pulled back up.  “You push the cart,” Kimmie told me.  Trust me, I was more than glad to do that.  I wiped the drool that threatened to escape down my chin, and started pushing.  Aaannd…all those girls started following.

“He’s dressed like a little kid,” I heard one girl say.

“A little sissy is more like it,” another one replied.

“Definitely!” two other girls agreed at the same time.

Twenty minutes later, Kimmie again pulled down my pants and tights, exposing my diaper.  I panicked a bit because I knew I had better be wetter than the last time or there could be trouble.  Which meant that wetting myself right away was my only option.  Trust me, in that situation, and after that last baby bottle she gave me before we left home, I had no trouble peeing.

Staring at my diaper, Kimmie didn’t look happy, but her hand went to the front of it anyway.  And stayed there!  “Hmm!” she grunted.

“What is it?” Judy asked.

“He’s peeing right now,” Kimmie told her.

That set all the girls to laughing.  I wanted to die.  And now that the pee was coming out of me, I couldn’t stop it.  And trust me, after everything, I could tell I was peeing a lot.  Kimmie just stood there with her hand on the front of my diaper.  After a while, and after I finally stopped peeing, her hand moved all around, including squeezing the bottom of my diaper between my legs, which trust me, was a lot fatter than it was before.  In fact, it sagged a bit now.  Kimmie just pulled up my tights, then my pants and turned to keep walking along the aisle, grabbing things to throw into the cart.  I grabbed the cart handle and started pushing again. 

When we got to the aisle with all the makeup and stuff like it, Kimmie stopped before a rack full of pantyhose.  She seemed to look over everything for a while.

“Are they for you or him?” one of the girls asked her.

Kimmie didn’t even turn to look at her.  “Him,” she replied before her hand reached out and grabbed two packages from the rack.  She moved a bit further and plucked a different package.  What was in it was white.  They all went into the cart.  Of course, everything we were buying got eyed and inspected by all five of the girls who were far more curious about things than I was happy with.

“White tights,” one of them proclaimed, looking at the package.

“I guess like he’s wearing now,” another of them added.

Ugh!

In the baby aisle, Kimmie looked briefly at all the baby food, then moved on.

“No baby food?” Loraine asked.

“Nope,” Kimmie told her.  “Not today.”

“Aw,” Judy said disappointedly.  “Why not?”

“Not today,” Kimmie told her.

Thank you Kimmie, was all I could think.  And then I saw Kimmie looking at the baby bottles.  Two of them wound up in our shopping cart before we could move on again.

We finished our shopping with all five girls still in tow.  Then we went through the checkout lane while the girls waited for us.  I was handed my jacket to put on again once the cart was empty.  The girls all followed us back to Kimmie’s car and even loaded everything into the trunk for us.  Kimmie opened my car door and let me get inside, away from the girls and the public eye.  Well, relatively.  Kimmie said goodbye to all the girls, then got into the car and we drove home.

Yeah.  Now that I look back on it all again, there was nothing interesting that happened on that trip at all.  Nothing even worth remembering.  Sorry I brought it up.

I can tell you that Kimmie still refused to change my diaper until two in the afternoon.  Oh, and I was still wearing every bit of that, including the bow in my hair, when we went for our evening walk around the backyard.

Just another boring day.  Sorry I mentioned it.

 

Gramps - Chapter 8

 

Gramps

By Karen Singer

 

Chapter 8

 

Just when you think the world is going to settle down and everything is going to stop changing on you, it changes.  Yeah, of course it did.  Courtesy of my dear sweet, diabolical, and cruel granddaughter Kimmie.  The woman I loved so much that I was going to murder her as soon as I got the chance.

Saturday morning, I was watching a TV show discussing the college football games that would be played that afternoon.  Some of which I was very much looking forward to seeing.  While I was doing that, Kimmie was at the kitchen table doing…something.  I didn’t know what and didn’t care.  I was happy just as long as she stayed away from me!  But of course, she didn’t.

“Gramps!” she called.  “Come here a minute.”

I pulled my overly large pacifier from my mouth and called back, “Why can’t you come here?  I’m watching this.”

“Give it a rest for a while and get in here.”

I groaned, several times, and mumbled, “Can’t even watch TV in peace!” as I got out of my chair to see what she wanted.  She was doing her nails at the kitchen table.  Something that didn’t surprise me since for a Phys Ed teacher, she seemed to be overly fond of either doing her nails herself, or paying to have them done.  “Date tonight?” I asked, sarcastically.

She looked up at me and smiled.  “Yes!  How did you know?”

I hadn’t.  And if she had a date it was certainly news to me.  “I didn’t,” I replied.  “I was just wondering.”

“Yeah well, this guy is one I’ve been out with a few times now.”  She looked up at me.  “I like him.  He’s nice.”

“Good for you,” I told her.  Maybe he would keep her out of my hair for a while.  In fact, maybe he would marry her and keep her out of my hair forever.

She motioned toward one of the seats.  “Sit for bit,” she said.

“Kimmie, I’m trying to watch this.”

“Gramps,” she said exasperatedly.  “You know perfectly well that none of what they’re saying is going to matter in the least as to who wins and who loses today.”

“But it’s still interesting,” I argued as I watched her blowing on her nails to dry them.

“Sit!” she ordered, pointing at the chair again.

“Why?”

“Because I want to do your nails.”

I was shocked!  “You what?”

“I want to do your nails now.  So sit!”

“No!  Kimmie where do you get all these stupid ideas?”

“Gramps!  Sit!  I’m going to do your nails whether you like it or not.”

“Hell no!” I told her as I turned and started to walk away.

“Would you rather I put a dress on you and take you shopping instead?  You need some new dresses to wear anyway.”

I stopped and turned toward her, horrified!  “You what?”

“You haven’t been out of this house all week!  It’ll be good for you to get out and do some shopping.  And I have no doubt that with all my clothes upstairs, I can come up with some kind of interesting outfit for you to wear.  And just think, if we’re going out, then you can finally have something covering your diaper for a change, even though it will be some kind of skirt.  So wouldn’t that be good?”

I’m sure my mouth was hanging open in disbelief.  “Oh hell no,” I breathed.

“Gramps,” she said.  “It’s either that, or you sit yourself down right here and let me do your nails.  Then you can spend the rest of the day watching the games on TV.  But believe me, I’d much rather take you shopping.  I think buying you some pretty new clothes would be so much fun.  Don’t you think?”

The horror of the idea was simply too much for me.  In a daze, I sat down at the table.  She reached out and grabbed one of my hands and pulled it up in front of her.  A moment later, she was filing the nails on that hand.  “Why are you doing this?” I chanced asking.

“Because I think it’ll make your hands and fingers look nicer.”

“There’s nothing wrong with them!”

“Gramps.  They can always look prettier.”

“But I don’t want then to look prettier!”

“Tough!” she said.  “Besides, when we go grocery shopping tomorrow, I’d like to have something different for the girls to see.”

I was shocked.  “The girls?”

“Yes.  I have no doubt that Loraine and Judy will be there again.  Possibly a bunch of other girls from the school too.”

How deep can shock actually go?  “Other girls?”

“Yes.  Of course.  You don’t think that those two girls you met last week were going to keep it to themselves do you?  They already asked me if I was taking you shopping again this week.”

“Let me guess.  You told them yes.”

“Well, of course.  I can’t lie to them about it.”

Lying would have been just fine with me.  “Let’s shop somewhere else then.”

She giggled.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  It’ll be fun.”

“For who?”  Then a thought occurred to me.  “Wait a minute!” I said.  “Does everyone in that school of yours know?”

“Probably,” she said.  “Like I told you, you can’t expect girls like Judy and Loraine to keep something like that a secret, and I didn’t ask them to.  They’d never do it anyway Gramps.”

Juuuussst great!  Then another horrible thought hit me.  “How about anyone else?”

What do you mean?” she asked.

“Does anyone else know about what we do?”

“Like who?”

I was starting to feel a bit better.  “Like how about anyone in our family.”

“Oh,” she said.  “They all know.”

“They what?”

“Well, I told Mom of course, and you know her, she told everyone else.”

“Everyone knows?”

“Yes.  Didn’t you just ask that?”

“Oh Kimmie…”  I could just kill her!

“Mom thinks it’s hilarious,” she said, “but Keith, my brother, thinks I should be taken out and shot.”

“I’m with Keith,” I said, still trying to digest the news that everyone in the family knew about what I’ve…we’ve…been doing.

She giggled.  “Mom thinks we should hold a baby shower for you.”

I was aghast.  “A…Kimmie!”

“Well, it’s her idea.”  She stared at me for a moment noticing the sudden thoughtful look on my face, then asked, “What is it?”

“I’m just wondering,” I said, “why I haven’t heard from anyone else in the family lately.  Nobody, not even your mother, has bothered to call me.”

“Oh,” she said.  “They all decided it would be better if they didn’t, since it would probably only embarrass you.”

“That much is certainly true.”

“I wonder what a baby shower for someone like you would be like.”

I could have hit her, but she was still holding my hand and was using a dangerous implement on it.  An implement that I was convinced was already causing me more pain than it was supposed to.

A few hours later, I never would have believed it.  I never would have even thought about it.  In fact, I never expected to come across the situation.  But did you know that it’s more humiliating to sit in your own chair and watch football games on TV, while you’ve got pink nail polish decorating your fingers?  I never would have believed it, but it’s true.  I know because I eventually found myself in that situation.

Yeah, the diapers on display and everything else was bad enough, but for some reason adding the pink nail polish seemed to be like putting the icing on the cake.  I sat there feeling squeamish through most of the game.  My best defense for it was to keep my hands under my fleece blanket as much as possible where I couldn’t see them.  But I couldn’t keep them there all the time since Kimmie delivered another baby bottle to me with more of her favorite sports drink in it.  I couldn’t seem to not see those pink fingernails the entire time I held that bottle to my lips and drank, even though I was trying desperately to only look at the game on TV.

One of these days, I really was going to kill that girl.

Aaaannnd…of course it hit me…or happened…or something.  And of course, you know what that something was.  Yeah, you’re right.  At some point, in fact, shortly after the first college game started, I had no choice but to mess my diaper.  Or is it more correct to say I messed in my diaper.  I guess it doesn’t matter.  Either way, it’s exactly the same smelly situation.  Oh, trust me, I fought with it for a while, but after days on end of being stuck wearing and going in my diapers, there was simply no sense in fighting with it too long.

I contemplated getting out of my chair to do it like I usually did, and I started to do just that, but with Kimmie in the house I didn’t want to call too much attention to what would be going on back there in my diaper.  So before the pressure got too bad, under the cover of my fleece blanket, I raised my diapered butt up off the chair and let it all out, pushing at the end to make sure it was all out of me and in the diaper where I could deal with it…soon! 

Ugh!  Relief one way, but a worse problem now another way.  I gingerly let my bottom back down into the chair and checked what was happening with the game.  Not a lot.  And it was only the first quarter, which meant that it was the best time I could see to get rid of my messy and smelly diaper.  Also gingerly, I slowly let the footrest on my recliner down, trying not to squish my bottom any worse than things already were back there.  I pulled the fleece blanket off me and got to my feet.

“Gramps!” Kimmie’s voice called from the kitchen.  “Where are you going?  The game just started.”

No use denying it.  “To change!” I said somewhat pointedly.

In two shakes she was stomping into the living room.  “Sit your ass back down in that chair.  You’re not changing yet.”

“Hell no,” I told her.  “Kimmie, I’m a mess.  Not to mention I’m going to start smelling to high heaven pretty soon, especially without any plastic pants on.”

“Tough shit!” she argued back.  “From now on I don’t want you changing before two o’clock in the afternoon, every day!”

“Say what?  That’s just stupid.  Why?”

“Because those diapers can handle it and they’re expensive, for one.”

“That’s two reasons, not one,” I pointed out.  “And I don’t care about either one.”

“And I don’t care that you don’t care!  Now sit back down.  I’ll tell you when you can change.”

“But Kimmie, two o’clock?  That’s a long time.”

She smiled that wicked smile of hers and I wondered how she physically managed to do it.  “Yes, it is.  Get used to it.  From now on, you get one diaper in the morning, one at two o’clock, and then you get changed into your night diaper at nine o'clock.  For now.”

I wanted to know what ‘for now’ meant, but was afraid to ask.

“Tell you what,” she said.  If you’re nice, I’ll put off changing you until halftime in the game, or until the game’s over, but either way, I’m not changing you even one minute before two.  So don’t even try to make it sooner.”

I was going to ask how she was going to stop me if I still decided to head to the bathroom to change, but I already could see that she was prepared to physically fight me over it.  I knew without trying who would win that battle.  She wasn’t the one wheezing after just one trip walking around the backyard every day.  I was.

She pointed at my recliner again.  “Sit!  And enjoy your game.  You’re lucky I let you watch them every week.”

“Lucky?  With a full diaper?”

“Yes!  I could make you watch little kid’s shows on that TV instead.  And I already know how to program it so you can’t watch anything else.”  Her expression changed to one of mock delight.  “Would you like me to do that for you?  Wouldn’t that be great?  It would be perfect for all your fantasies.  Shall I?”

Instead of answering, I glared angrily at her and backed up to my chair.  Slowly, gingerly, horribly, I sat my body down.  Carefully, gingerly, I leaned back and raised the footrest.  Then I pulled my blanket over my bare legs and body…and pink fingernails.  She stood there staring at me as if daring me to get up, which I wasn’t going to do.  Finally, she walked off, back into the kitchen.

Yuck!  I squirmed my messy bottom around a bit trying to get more comfortable in all that mush.  It didn’t take long before I realized that things were about as good as they were going to get…until Kimmie decided I could have a fresh diaper.

I tried to concentrate on the game, but it was more difficult than ever.  First the pink fingernails, now my messy bottom.  And I just knew I would have to sit there and endure an ever-increasing smell before long, with no way out!  My fleece blanket was quicky becoming more important to me than ever.  Just to add insult to injury, two minutes after getting settled again in my chair, I wet my diaper.  But the truth was, that was quickly becoming less and less interesting to me.  I was already that used to doing it.

Concentrate on the game.  Concentrate on the game.  It was difficult, but I tried, and somewhat succeeded.  But thoughts about why did Kimmie have to tell everyone about what we did, why did Kimmie insist on painting my nails, and why was Kimmie making me wait until two o’clock for a fresh diaper continued to fill my mind.  And that’s on top of why was she forcing me to wear the diapers anyway, not to mention not letting me wear anything over them when I was home…which was ninety-nine percent of the time…if not more.

And then Kimmie was there again, handing me another baby bottle full of her favorite sports drink.  I said nothing.  I just pulled my pink fingernailed hand out from under the blanket and took the bottle.  She stood there watching until I put the thing to my lips and started drinking, then she walked off.  Darn girl!

I went back to trying to concentrate on the game, this time while drinking a baby bottle with my pink fingernails.  When the bottle was done, I gratefully put it aside and stuck my hands back under the blanket where I wouldn’t have to see them.  Concentrate on the game.  Concentrate!  Yeah, despite the fact that I had peed just a little bit ago, now with all that fresh liquid in my system, I could already tell I would be peeing again soon.  Juuussst great!

And then Kimmie was back.  Not again!  But all she did was to lean over and shove one of my huge pacifiers in my mouth before walking away.  I would have killed her, but I was trying desperately to concentrate on the game, and it was becoming increasingly more difficult with every minute that passed.  Just like the odor surrounding me was becoming increasingly more noticeable.  And you already know it wasn’t a good odor.  With little choice, I did my best to put up with it.

As the game clock counted down to halftime, I checked the clock on the wall more often.  Unfortunately, I could tell that my diaper change wasn’t going to happen at halftime.  When halftime started, I checked the clock again.  Nope!  Halftime would be long over before I got my diaper changed.  Now, did I want to wait for the game to be over, or just let her change me at two.  That question was easy to answer.  I wanted out of that messy, smelly diaper.  Two o’clock couldn’t come fast enough!

The game was well into the third quarter when Kimmie came back.  “Gramps, do you want your diaper changed now, or would you rather wait till the end of the game?”

“Now!” I tried to say with that huge plug in my mouth, but what came out was more like, “Ehh!”

“What?”

Instead of answering, as fast as I could, I got rid of my blanket and got out of my chair.  I pulled the pacifier from my mouth.  “Now!”

She giggled.  She actually giggled!  Darn girl.  “Come on,” she said.  “Let’s get you changed…baby.”

Ugh!  But at least she was changing me.  Fifteen minutes later, I was back in my chair that Kimmie had sprayed with air freshener for me, trying to catch up on what I had missed in the game.  Two scores.  Two!  In that short time I had been gone.  And Kimmie had kept me from seeing them.  Yeah, one of these days I really was going to kill her.  Still, I figured the fresh new diaper was better than waiting until the end of the game to get it.  A lot better!

I enjoyed the rest of the game in relative peace, if you didn’t count two more baby bottles and getting that pacifier shoved back in my mouth between them.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering which pink was brighter and more noticeable, my pink sneakers or my pink fingernails.  Trust me, those super bright pink sneakers won out by a mile.  Although I did have to wonder if the pink sneakers made my pink fingernails more noticeable than they already were.  I didn’t really want an answer to that question.  I was too afraid of the answer.

 

Gramps - Chapter 7

 

Gramps

By Karen Singer

 

Chapter 7

 

Where oh where has my sanity gone?  Oh where, oh where can it be?  With my paci cut short and my diaper cut long, oh where oh where can it be?

Uh…never mind that, just rambling.

Do you know what that stupid, darn girl did to me the next morning?  Do you know?  Uh…no.  Of course you don’t.  Well, let me tell you.  Um…I guess I was going to do that anyway since I’m writing this.  Anyway, the next morning when I got out of the shower, Kimmie was there again to diaper me.  Yes, yes, I got the powder and a dry diaper.  And I expected to get the plastic pants next, or even the pantyhose or white tights.  Wrong!  I got…um…one of her sweatshirts to wear on top.  And then she stuck those little girl shoes on my feet without any tights, or pantyhose, or even socks.

“No socks?” I asked.  “No pantyhose?  No tights?”

“Nope!  Not anymore.”

“Anymore?”

“Nope.  You’re going without.”

“Not even the plastic pants?” I asked.

“Nope!  Those diapers don’t seem to leak.  In fact, I think we should order more of them tonight because they work so well.”

“But why?”

“Because you’re running low on diapers again.  This time we should order more though.  Maybe twice as many as you usually get.”

“Uh…no,” I said.  “I meant why nothing else?  No socks, pantyhose, or anything else?”

“Oh,” she said.  “Because I said so.”

“And that’s supposed to be an explanation?” I asked.

Instead of answering, she reached over and shoved that stupid pacifier in my mouth and said, “Hush!”  Then she looked me straight in the eyes and pointed her finger at me.  “No more pants when you’re in the house.  None!  Ever!  Only when you’re going out somewhere.  And I’m not talking about just in the backyard.  You don’t need them back there either.”

I was more than a bit surprised.  “What?” I tried to say through that plug, but what came out was more like a grunt.  Unintelligible.

“I want you walking around here with your diaper visible all the time.  No excuses!”

I started to say, “Excuses?” but the moment I started to try and form the word I realized I couldn’t, so I didn’t say anything and wound up staring at her in disbelief.

“Now,” she said.  “I’m going to call you today whenever I get a chance, and that’s every chance I get, and I’m going to ask you to send me a picture of your diaper, proving that you’re not wearing anything to cover it up.  And if you don’t, or you try to cover it up, I’m considering buying a couple of those home security cameras so I can see you whenever I want.  In fact, whether you cover your diaper or not, I’m considering getting some cameras.  I’ve been considering it for a while now.  Something tells me that not only will they help with your fantasies, but they’d also be a good idea for safety reasons for someone your age.  But for now, until I get something like that, I suggest you keep your cellphone handy.”

I had questions.  Oh yeah, I certainly had questions…and more than a bit of shock and anger.  “But what if I want to go out?” was one question I had, but like with the last thing I tried to say, the moment I started trying to form the words, nothing intelligible happened and I soon gave up.  I also wanted to ask about what if I took a nap and didn’t hear the phone ring, but I didn’t even try that one.  Not that I took many naps.  In fact, I rarely ever did.  So once again I simply stared at her in disbelief.

Ten minutes later, she was heading out the door, and I was still in my bedroom wondering why I didn’t simply pull that stupid big plug out of my mouth and say something.  But I hadn’t pulled it out then, and the darn thing was still in my mouth!  I finally reached up and pulled it out, but with an exasperated shake of my head, I wound up sticking it back in.  I left my room with bare legs and a…um…I guess a bare diaper.  On display.  For anyone in the house to see.  Fortunately, I was the only one in the house…I hoped.

Look, it’s a fact that diapers are generally a fairly warm thing to wear, but I can tell you that bare legs are generally a fairly cold thing to wear…or I guess not wear.  Either way, I had a problem with how cool my legs were.  So I sat in my recliner, hoping my diaper wouldn’t leak when I got around to wetting the darn thing because I had no choice, and I covered my legs with a fleece blanket.  Ah, warmth!

The TV was soon on, but it was a while before I realized I wasn’t paying the least bit of attention to it.  All I could think about was nothing covering my diaper for…I guess the foreseeable future.  At least when I was home.  I thought about that, and the fact that Kimmie had “claimed” that she would be calling me to demand pictures.  I worried about when she was going to call, and how often.

It was less than an hour after she left that my phone dinged.  I picked it up to see what it was and found a text from Kimmie asking to see my diaper and bare legs.  Ugh!

I had to pull the blanket off my legs, letting the cool air back at them, figure out how to take the picture she wanted, then figure out how to text it back to her.  Not an easy thing for me since I had only done that once or twice before, but after a few mistakes, I managed it.  I got no reply at all back from her.

So now that I had done that much, could I pull a pair of pants on?  At least until she sent the next demand?  I seriously considered doing that, but my chair was comfortable and so was that fleece blanket.  Maybe later.  I was busy not watching TV.

Geez!  How many times can a person text, demanding pictures in one day?  I think Kimmie was trying her best to set a record.  It seemed like every time I turned around, my phone was dinging with another message demand for diaper pictures and bare leg proof.  The darn girl!

And when I had no choice but to make a mess in that diaper, and then change it, wouldn’t you know it, she realized I was wearing a fresh diaper and asked me about it.  When I told her the old one was a major mess inside, she texted back that it wouldn’t have hurt me to wear the thing for an hour or two longer.  What?  Was she nuts?  Yes, I was sure she was.  And then her texts started to be more interested in having the pictures show how wet my diaper was.  Why the hell didn’t she simply come home, put my diaper on her body, and find out firsthand?  It was almost a relief when she finally walked through the door after work.

But of course, now that she was home, I had to change those “darling” little girl shoes for the super pink sneakers, and the two of us headed into the backyard to walk.  Look, walking around the house with my diaper on full display was bad enough, but walking outside with it that way was worse.  Much worse!  What if a neighbor came over and looked in the backyard.  It wasn’t exactly likely to happen, but it could.  But Kimmie wasn’t giving me a choice.

With bare legs, a bare diaper, and super pink sneakers that could probably been seen from outer space, she had me walking.   Or was that waddling and wheezing?  At the pace she insisted I needed to waddle to keep my heartrate up, once again I was pretty much done in by the time we got all the way around the yard once, but Kimmie kept me going for a few minutes more before she called a stop and let me walk back.

Let me tell you, my bare legs hadn’t warmed up much at all from all that walking!  But getting into the house and out of sight again was a relief, not only because of the cool weather, but because I had been afraid that outside someone might see me.  Now I just had to manage to put up with it in the house.  At least I wouldn’t be getting anymore texts from Kimmie demanding stupid pictures again.  At least, I hoped not.  Not since she was home.  I wouldn’t put it past her though.  Just what did she do with all those pictures I sent to her anyway?  Great.  Now I had something new to worry about.  Just what I needed.

Rinse and repeat.  That’s what the next day seemed to be.  A carbon copy of the day before.  Bare legs.  Bare diaper.  And feeling very uncomfortable about the entire situation.  Exactly the same…except for one tiny, itsy-bitsy little thing.  Okay, it wasn’t so little to me.  Kimmie, my dear, sweet, beloved, and cherished granddaughter (maybe I needed to rethink that) texted me another demand…order…requirement…stipulation…imposition!

Gramps.  From now on, don’t change your diaper until two o’clock no matter how wet or messy it is.  I’ll be checking the diaper trash when I get home.

Was she nuts?  Well, yes.  Definitely!  But she wasn’t the one who was stuck wearing the diapers.  I was.  And wearing them when they were too wet, and especially messy, was horrible beyond belief.  Um…okay, when they were just wet I didn’t mind that much, in fact, I rather enjoyed it.  But that’s beside the point.  I was the one stuck wearing them – because of her!  And If I felt I needed to change the diaper, then I was absolutely going to change it!  End of story!  Yeah.  That’s how I saw it.

Guess what.  When I messed that diaper a little after eleven in the morning (yeah, I still hadn’t found a way around that problem), I made it a point to change it right away.  Wouldn’t you know it, twenty minutes later, Kimmie texted demanding a new picture, and of course, I sent her one, proudly showing that I had changed it!  I got a rather angry text back from her as if she was yelling at me for doing it.  Tough shit Kimmie.  I’m not sitting around in a messy diaper for half the day.  In fact, I was ready now to be done with the diapers completely.  And the more I thought about that, the more it fueled my determination to have it out with her just as soon as she got home.

Ha!  Guess what.  For the rest of the day, every time she texted demanding pictures, I ignored her.  Ha!  She eventually gave up her texts a few hours later.  Showed her!  The darn woman.

Later that afternoon, I was sitting in my chair watching TV when I heard her come home.  “Gramps!”

I didn’t reply.  I figured someone with her kind of education could figure out where I was easy enough.  Guess what, she did.

“Gramps!” she said again as she walked over to stand in front of me.  “What are you doing?”

I looked up at her as if I was surprised.  “Three guesses,” I said.  I pointed at the TV.  “Watching that thing.”

“No Gramps.  I told you I didn’t want you changing until two o’clock, and you changed your diaper earlier.  Very early.  And then you stopped sending me the pictures too.”

“Hell yes!” I said as I got out of my recliner to have it out with her.  “This is all stupid!  It’s enough, and I’m done with it!  Hear me?  Done!  D-O-N-E done!  It wasn’t my idea to do all this in the first place, and it’s my house, my life!  Now unlock my bathroom doors and stop trying to boss me around!”

“No Gramps!” she argued back sternly.  “Not a chance!  You lost out on enjoying your fantasies when I moved in, and I decided that come hell or high water I was going to make sure you got to experience those fantasies, one way or another.  I was hoping you’d go along for the ride more willingly, like you have been until now.  But if it’s the hard way you want, then I can make it the hard way for you.  Like it or not, I’m going to give you what you can’t seem to admit even to yourself that you really want!”

I couldn’t believe it.  “Kimmie,” I said.  “You don’t get it, do you.  I’m tired of this.  Yes, it was fun for a while, but now it’s not, and I want to stop.  So unlock those damn doors and stop this entire mess!”

“No Gramps.  Not gonna happen.  I told you that.  You wanted to do this for months on end to see what would happen, and I’m going to give it to you.”

“Months!” I yelled.  “Kimmie, I always stopped it after a few hours.  A day or so at the most.  Not this where it goes on and on.  This is much longer than I’ve ever done it, and now I’m done!”

“No you’re not.  Not until I decide.”

“You!  This is my life!”

“Yes.  And I think it’s time I take more charge of your life for you.  So I suggest you stop arguing and start doing what I want.”

“Kimmie.  No!  I’m done!  No more!”

“Yes more!  And Gramps, get it through your thick head that it’s going to go until I decide it’s enough, not you!  And another thing Gramps, you should know perfectly well by now that one way or another, eventually, I’m going to make you do everything I want.”

“Yeah.  I seem to remember that you were always the bossy one when you were growing up.”

She beamed happily.  “That’s me!” she replied.  “So get with the program, because I’m going to give you what you want, whether you think it’s what you want or not.”

“How would you know?” I yelled.

She smiled.  “Because I do.  The bathroom doors stay locked, and you stay in diapers.  And I’m going to make damn sure you do what I want!  Everything I want!  One way or another!  Get used to it Gramps and stop arguing.  It’s not going to work on me.”

Before I could say another word, she turned and stomped off.  She got to the other side of the room before she turned and added, “And go change into your new sneakers.  It’s time for our exercise.”  Then she walked away and went up to her room.

Darn girl.  I could just kill her.  Somehow.

A few minutes later, we were out in the backyard together, walking the perimeter of my property.  Actually, as usual, she was walking, I was waddling.  Trust me, I was still fuming over the issues we had just argued about.  I could tell she was still in that overly determined mood of hers.  Sometimes, there was just no getting through to that girl.

Fuming as we walked, I asked, “How many months?”

“What?”

“How many months?  How long are you going to keep this stupid, miserable game you’re playing with my life going?”

“I don’t know,” she told me.  “Until I think we’ve given it a good enough go.”

“What’s good enough?”

“I don’t know.  I’ll know when I know.  That’s the best answer I can give you.”

“Why can’t it be when I’ve decided?  It’s my life.”

“I know, but you can’t seem to find the tenacity to do the things you really want without help, so I’m giving you that help.”

“Some help,” I replied sarcastically.

“Yes.  It is a help,” she told me.  “Look how long I’ve managed to keep you in diapers now, when before you always quit after a few hours.”

“Exactly!  A few hours.  And now I’m done.”

“Nope!  Not until I say so, and you’re a long way from it.  Gramps, trust me, we’ve just started.”

“According to who?”

“Me!  And I’m the one making the decisions.  You’re the one wearing the baby diapers.  And I mean…baby!  But hey, you get to act like a baby.  The more the better.  Which trust me, is absolutely fine with me.  I’d love it.”

“You would,” I mumbled.

“Yes.  I would.  And that’s another thing Gramps.  Since we’re doing it, you might as well put the effort into it and try to accomplish some of the things you’ve only dreamed of.”

“Say what?”

“Put some effort into it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like with wetting yourself.  Messing too.  You wanted to get to the point where it happens without you knowing it’s going to.  But in order to get there, I’m pretty sure you’re going to have to completely give up holding it all back.  You’re going to have to let it all happen on its own.  If you don’t, you’re not going to experience one of your dream goals.”

I searched for something to say about dream goals, but she did have a point.  Still, it was my life!  I also wasn’t so sure that wetting and messing myself without warning was exactly a good idea.  Yeah, in a fantasy maybe, but not in real life.  Kimmie didn’t seem to know the distinction, and something told me that she wouldn’t take well to me trying to explain that difference.

“Why can’t I wear pants anymore?” I complained.

“Because I want you to get used to the fact that you wear diapers now.  If you can see them all the time, it will help cement the fact that they’re a natural part of you now.”

“I doubt it.”

“Doubt it all you want, but for now, that’s the way it’s going to be.”

“Or what?”

Or…  Gramps, I’m going to find ways to punish you if you don’t do what I say.”

“Punish!  Oh hell no!”

“Hell yes!” she argued.  “I guess, like it or not, I better consider that now.  You’re going to kick up a fuss once in a while.  I need some way to make sure you straighten out.”

“Don’t bother!” I told her.

“Oh yes,” she replied.  “I’m going to bother.  I have to.”

“Says who?”

“Me.  And that’s all that matters.”

“Why can’t I have a say in it?”

“Do we have to go through the whole which one of us is the baby thing again?  And Gramps, babies don’t get a say in anything!  Ever!”

“Who decided that rule?”

“The world Gramps.  The entire world.”

Darn girl!  She was going to be the death of me yet.