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.