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!