The Next Story – Gramps!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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