Gramps - Chapter 26

 

Gramps

By Karen Singer

 

Chapter 26

 

Hoping for something doesn’t mean you’re going to get it.  Praying for it doesn't seem to be much more successful.  And trust me, begging for it doesn't mean you’re going to get it either.  In my case, I hoped, prayed, and actually begged Kimmie to not go back up to Baltimore to visit the family for Christmas.  Or at the least, she should go, but leave me home here in Tennessee where I belonged.  I certainly didn’t belong up there, nor was I wanted.  But all my hoping, praying, and actual begging fell on deaf ears when it came to Kimmie.  She wanted me to go, and as far as she was concerned, I had no say in it.  Did I ever mention that she liked using the old “babies have no say in anything” routine?  Guess which one of us was the baby.  Not her!

Let me tell you something right now.  That morning when we left, was the morning that my entire life turned not just topsy-turvy, but it rolled over, died, and was buried upside down!  Right from the start I didn’t know which way was up anymore.  Why, you may ask?  Geez!  Where do I start?  I guess we better start at the top of the day.  The beginning.  So what was the beginning?

I had been afraid she was going to do it.  I had feared it from the time I knew we were going back to Baltimore.  As soon as I got out of the shower that morning, all my worst fears came true.  Kimmie laid me down and stuck that darn, stupid, blankety blank flat chastity device on my cock, rendering it not only useless, but for all intents and purposes, gone!  When I started to complain she quickly told me, “Little girls don’t have those ugly things on their bodies, and now, neither do you!”

End of argument.  Darn woman!  It was on and locked, including the tight strap that went all the way around me, keeping the entire thing as close to my body as possible.  Too close!  It wasn’t until it was on that she finished getting me dressed.

Oh no!  Do I have to go through this again?  Okay, okay.  Just hold your horses for a minute and I’ll get this over with.  Diaper…yes, even though it goes without saying now, Kimmie stuck one on me, right after she tried to kill me with too much baby powder, and right after…um…we’ll get there in a minute.  Now, where were we?  Oh yeah.  Diaper, pastel blue plastic pants, light blue tights, white frilly little girl style socks with blue accents, and a dark blue bra (why, I still have no idea).  Then she added, not a skirt, but a very short blue and white dress (at least it had long sleeves).  Have you noticed that once again there are a lot of very, very short skirts and dresses in the stores?  I have.  Kimmie was more than happy to point them out to me whenever we went shopping.  “Wouldn’t you love wearing that?”  Nope!

Uh…where were we again?  Okay.  Got it.  Still getting dressed, which was right after…  Like I said, we’ll get there.  That was the dress, which leaves my hair next.  No pigtails with ribbon bows.  Hooray!  But the hairclip she put at the top, after pulling the entire front part of my hair backwards so tightly I thought it would rip out, was a flowery concoction of blue and white ribbon that couldn’t be missed.

And…and…and…on my feet, those red little girl Mary Janes with the decorations on the buckle that Kimmie had kept away from me since Thanksgiving.  With all the light blue I was wearing, the red Mary Janes stuck out like a sore thumb.  Um…Kimmie thought those shoes looked divine with the rest of my outfit.  I simply wanted to stay home!

But I’m overlooking something that crashed my entire brain, just so I could get the clothing bit out of the way, and it started before I was fully dressed.  Okay…backing up again.  Shit!

I woke up (obviously).  I waddled my way into the bathroom where I shaved my face (Kimmie had given me a bath the night before where she had again shaved my entire body bald).  I removed my soaked diaper and stuck it in the diaper pail trash, then I jumped into the shower.  I didn’t want to get out.  Not because I liked it in there, which I did, but because getting out would bring me closer to having to leave to travel north to see the family.  And I didn’t want to go!  I think I mentioned already that my pleading hadn’t worked at all.

Anyway.  I got out of the shower and Kimmie was already there to help me dry off.  She took me by the hand and led me back to my bed where that new changing mat was laid out.  I got on it and like I said, she tried to kill me with the amount of baby powder that she used.

“Stop looking so glum!” she told me.

“Wouldn’t you?” I asked.  “This trip is a bad idea, and you know it.”

“Diane Alice!”  How dare you tell me that something is a bad idea.  I’m your mother.  You’re a baby.  A two-year-old baby, not at adult.  How would you know what a bad idea is?  You don’t!  So no more complaining.”

I stared up at her in disbelief.  What had she just said?  I really wasn’t sure, even after I had heard it.  “Uh…” I started to say as I searched for the words.

“Aren’t you going to tell me you’re sorry?” she suddenly asked, cutting me off.

Again, I stared at her in disbelief.  Huh?  Tell her…  “Sorry?” I asked.

“It’s sorry, Mommy!” she told me in a very stern voice.

I knew that somehow I had to be either still asleep and in the middle of a bad dream, or I had somehow been transported into another dimension.  “Mommy?” I asked.

“Yes dear?  What is it?” she replied as she finished putting the diaper on me.

“Um…”  I searched for words.

She looked at me, then stuck the big pacifier in my mouth.  “Sorry Diane, but sometimes your baby words are a little hard for Mommy to understand.  And I’ve got a lot to do this morning before we leave.  So just suck on your baby paci and let me get you ready.”

Mommy?  Diane?  What world had I woken up in?  Since I had been completely muted, and it was obvious that she didn’t want me asking questions, my mind went into la-la land as it tried to cope with all the sudden new changes.  She hadn’t even warned me!  Not one bit!  A little warning or especially a nice conversation about it would have been nice.  But no.  It was suddenly Mommy and Diane.  Diane?  Where the hell had that come from?  Had she said Diane Alice?

Before long, I was dressed.  Before long, I was given a bowl of cereal to eat for breakfast.  Before long, I was given a baby bottle of milk to drink with my breakfast.  Before long, my diaper was wet because too many things had already triggered my need to try to pee and poop.  And before long, I was put into the car and Kimmie buckled my seatbelt herself.

Since I’d be in the car, I wasn’t allowed to wear my coat to cover anything up.  “You’ll be in the car Diane,” Kimmie told me.  “You’d be too warm with that coat on.”

I’d be a lot more comfortable, is what I’d be.

The car was loaded with not just our luggage, but also with the gifts we had bought on a few different humiliating shopping trips.  Once again I was allowed to sit in the front seat with Kimmie, and once again she told me I didn’t have to have the pacifier in my mouth.  Yes, yes, yes!  Except…the longer it was out of my mouth, the more I seemed to want it there.  Shortly after we pulled out of the driveway, I grabbed the pacifier and stuck it back in my mouth.  Kimmie didn’t say anything.  She might not have even noticed.  Every time I wanted to say something, I would have to pull it out, but something told me I’d be putting it back after we talked.  What was wrong with me?  But the pacifier stayed in my mouth for the entire trip.  Except when I was talking or eating of course.

We had barely left the house when Kimmie asked, “Do you need a bottle baby?  Do you need something to drink?”

I had just had a bottle with breakfast, and I was already wet.  I pulled my plug.  “No, I’m fine,” I told her before putting the paci back and sucking again.

Kimmie’s response was fast and stern.  “I’m fine…Mommy!” she said as if she was angry.  “If you’re going to lean to talk, you’re going to learn right.  And little girls need to learn to be polite!”

Learn to talk?  Polite?  She had just jumped down my throat for answering her question.  No, she had jumped down my throat for not using the “M” word.  “Um…Mommy?” I asked.

“Yes baby?”  She looked over at me and smiled.  “What is it you want?”

I shook my head.  “Nothing,” I said.

“It’s nothing…Mommy!” she reminded me.

Oh boy.  The baby pacifier went back into my mouth immediately.  Something told me that I would be better off never speaking again.

For the first few hours, we talked a bit, never really saying anything important.  I soon figured out that I wasn’t supposed to even ask about the new names (or was it roles) for each of us.  She just expected me to understand and get it right.  No explanation needed.  I was supposed to call her Mommy every time she asked a question, and she was replacing Gramps with Diane.  At least, that’s the impression I was getting.  With the way things were going already that day, I couldn’t be sure of anything.

Other than the Mommy and Diane bit, we somehow managed to talk a bit, almost like real adults (if you don’t count me calling her Mommy).  We certainly didn’t talk a lot, I was too afraid to say much of anything, but we talked.  We spent more time listening to music than anything else, which gave me more time with my pacifier in my mouth, and more time to try and figure out what world I had woken up in.

The worst part was whenever anything happened around me or even started to happen…oh look over there (I tried to pee and poop).  Did you hear that (I tried to pee and poop).  Kimmie said something (I tried to pee and poop).  Diane…(I tried to pee and poop).  Diane…(I tried to pee and poop)  Diane…  Yeah, you get it.  Every little thing still had me trying to pee and poop in my diaper, especially every time she used the “D” name for me.  Annoying!  But I couldn't seem to help myself.

Yeah, my diaper was a real mess when Kimmie took me into a restaurant for lunch.  I’m not sure if the skirt of my dress covered my sagging diaper or not.  I was an even worse mess by the time Kimmie stopped for gas and then finally changed my smelly diaper.  And of course, afterwards, every little thing had me peeing and pooping again.

I could just scream!  But that paci in my mouth kept me from doing that.

After changing me, like the first trip, I got stuck into the backseat.  That was good.  No, that was great.  No more talking.  No more Diane.  No more Mommy.  I sucked on my pacifier and did my best to take a nap, despite things occasionally having me trying to pee and poop again.

To make a long story short, we arrived.  I still hadn’t figured out what world I was living in again.  Ashley greeted Kimmie with a loving hug outside of the car while I waited and sucked my pacifier inside.  Kimmie unbuckled me and pulled me out and Ashly wrapped me up in a big hug and said, “Hi Diane dear.  It’s so good to see you again baby.  Grandma has missed you so much.”

Grandma?  Yes, I wet my diaper again.  In fact, I almost pooped in it.

So I was Diane now, and Kimmie was Mommy, and Ashley was Grandma.  My daughter had somehow become my grandmother, and my granddaughter had become my mother.  My head was spinning trying to just place everything and everyone.

It was all games, games, games.  But those kind of games can have a huge mental impact on you.  I know they did for me.  I felt more like a child than ever.  Maybe it’s because I suddenly wasn’t myself anymore, and Kimmie had done it in such a way that it had all hit me with no warning at all.  Like a double whammy.  Couple that with the fact that I was out and around so many people, and in public, wearing a short dress and little girl clothes, possibly with my sagging diaper showing, and there was no way for me to get out of that situation anytime soon, and my head was so confused by everything that a real toddler probably had more of a grasp on reality than I did.

Before I knew it, I was again spending most of my time on the floor of Ashley’s living room, surrounded by my baby toys, of which I had more than I wanted.  Especially since they expected me to actually play with them.  I was learning though, or trying to.  When you’ve got absolutely nothing else to occupy your mind, your brain has to reach for something.  And the only somethings I had to reach for were all baby toys.  Play, play, play, or die of boredom.

The day after we arrived, I expected to have a relatively quiet day with just Ashley and Kimmie.  Not to be!  I expected that we wouldn’t be going out anywhere.  Again, not to be.  I also expected that it would be just the three of us.  Also, not to be.

I spent a nice relaxing morning playing with my toys (the ONLY thing I was allowed to do) while wearing my nice warm, footed sleeper.  Yes, Kimmie had changed my diaper before I had my baby food breakfast, but once changed, she had put the sleeper back on me.  I was happy with that.  As I said, it was warm and comfortable.  It wasn’t until after my baby food lunch that I got a hint that maybe something else might happen that day.

My diaper got changed.  I had noticed on the Thanksgiving trip that I was getting more diaper changes than usual each day.  I hoped it would continue on this trip too.  But after getting a fresh diaper, I didn’t get that comfortable sleeper again.  Instead, I got a bra, some white tights, a girly blouse, a super short skirt (all my skirts were super short.  Do you think Kimmie would let me have anything else?).  My red Mary Janes, and pigtails with two ribbons in my hair.

“Gee,” Grandma said as she looked at my hair.  “Her hair is long enough now that you could almost call them proper pigtails.”

“Yeah,” Kimmie had agreed happily.  “I can’t wait until it gets a bit longer.”

I don’t know what other plans Kimmie had for my hair, but I already dreaded them.

I was back playing with my toys when a little while later the doorbell rang.  Panic time!  I wanted to run, but I already knew that wasn’t going to happen.  Ashley answered the door and a minute later, Jenny’s daughter Allison walked in.  She greeted Kimmie then came over to me on the floor.

“And how’s my little niece Diane today?” she asked before bending down and giving me a hug. 

Niece?

Allison turned back to Kimmie.  “Ready?”

“I’ve just got to get our coats,” Kimmie replied.

They were going out?  Nobody told me.  But then, I was a baby…or I was supposed to be.

But Kimmie didn’t get her coat…first.  She got mine and put it on me.  Zipping the thing up for me.  I definitely wet myself then.

“Got your diaper bag?” Allison asked Kimmie.

Kimmie held up the large bag that I thought was just her purse.  “Right here,” she confirmed.

Before leaving the house, Kimmie just had to finish me off by brushing some blusher over my cheeks.  She turned to Allison.  “I’d add a touch of lipstick too,” she told her, “but it would be useless since that pacifier is staying in her mouth.”

Bewildered, I was quickly herded out the door and buckled into the backseat of Allison’s car.  Kimmie got in the backseat on the other side and Ashley sat in the front with Aunt Allison.  I had no idea where we were going.  I only knew I didn’t want to be going anywhere at all…except maybe home to Tennessee, but that didn’t appear to be happening.  Once again it was public humiliation time.  It never seemed to end anymore.

Oh the crowds!  It was the Sunday before Christmas and the entire world had descended on the city of Baltimore just to see me out shopping while dressed as a girly toddler.  At least, that’s what it seemed like to me.  Allison took us to a mall, and let’s just say the crowds were enormous.  I was constantly trying to pee and poop in my diaper, and I wasn’t the least bit concerned about stopping.

We walked…slowly…all around as they shopped.  I say slowly because with all the people there we couldn’t move very fast.  It wasn’t long before I was wondering if my diaper was showing beneath my skirt yet.  I knew it was sagging and I was waddling enough.

And then Allison had to go and ruin the really good time I wasn’t having by saying, “Here it is.  This is the place I told you about.”

I looked at where they were leading me.  A jewelry store.  More gifts…or so I thought.  Nope!  Well, I guess that’s wrong.  The gift we were getting there was for me.  Ten minutes after walking in, I was sitting and sucking my pacifier with a fierceness I had never done before.  I was also trying for all I was worth to both pee and poop in my diaper as…you guessed it…some lady I had never seen before was piercing my ears.  Ouch!  Um…make that two ouches.  Just that fast, I had pierced ears and I knew there were some kind of earrings stuck in them.  Just that fast, my stomach was threatening to heave all over the place.

“Oh, they’re so pretty!” Allison gushed as she looked at what they had done to me.

“Aren’t they?” Kimmie agreed happily.

“She’s going to love them!” Allison added.

I noticed that nobody was asking my opinion.  I had no idea what those earrings looked like, especially not in my ears.  Have any of you noticed how difficult it is to see your ears without a mirror?  And just then I was fresh out of mirrors.

With both of my ears stinging a bit, I was soon led out of the jewelry store and back into the mall proper that was full of cattle…I mean people.  Dressed like I was, and now with earrings decorating my earlobes that I would bet were probably sparkly, I felt more embarrassed and humiliated than ever.  And still I had no way out of it.  No way to do anything but follow Mommy, and Grandma, and Aunt Allison all over the place so that too many people could get a good look at me.  Yeah, my diaper was getting awfully wet…and messy.  And I couldn’t help it!  Blame Kim…I mean Mommy.

“Eww!” Aunt Allison said in one of the stores as she got a bit too close to me.  “I think somebody needs a diaper change.”

“Probably,” Kim…I mean Mommy agreed.  She looked around at all the people  “I’d change her now but there’s just too many people.  And I have no doubt that the ladies’ room is packed.”

“I don’t even want to imagine how bad that wait would be,” Grandma agreed.

“I could change her in the car,” Kim…Mommy said, but since we’re going home soon anyway, she’ll just have to wait till then.  Don’t worry, she’s used to living in messy diapers for far longer than she should be wearing them.  When I’m at work, she messes herself and then refuses to change them right away.  She waits practically forever in her messes.”

I what?  Hey!  That’s not right!  She won’t let me change!  Ugh!  Butwith that pacifier in my mouth there wasn’t much sense in trying to argue.  In fact, even without the pacifier I doubt I’d get far trying to correct the situation.

Yes, my earlobes were still stinging a tiny bit several hours later when we got home.  My pride was hurting far worse though.  To make me feel better, Kimmie put me down for a nap with a nice warm bottle of baby formula.  I was used to the formula now, but I still didn’t like it.  I also didn’t like those earrings I had yet to see.  As I laid in my bed, whenever I turned my head too far, the posts behind my ears stuck into me.  Earrings are a pain.  Both when they pierce your ears and then whenever you try to sleep with them.  Why were all women so insistent that they had to wear them?

 

Gramps - Chapter 25

 

Gramps

By Karen Singer

 

Chapter 25

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What?” I asked again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes, yes, yes!  Mana from heaven.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Darn woman!

 

Gramps - Chapter 24

 

Gramps

By Karen Singer

 

Chapter 24

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course,” she replied.  “Why?”

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

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

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

She seemed annoyed by my question.

“So that’s a yes,” I told her.

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

“Yeah.  Much better than I expected.”

“Me too,” she agreed.

“Lots of new stuff.”

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

“I guess it was,” I agreed.

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

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

“Yes.  Very,” she agreed.

“So what’s got you concerned?”

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

“That would be me,” I confirmed.

“Darn right…baby!”

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

“Mom?”

“Mm-hm.”

“When?”

“When she changed me.”

“Oh,” she replied.  “What’s that?”

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

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

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

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

“Do I need to worry about them?”

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

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

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

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

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

Hijacked?  Yeah.  It had been something like that.

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

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

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

“What?”

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

I mentally groaned.

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

I was glad to hear that part.

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

Ugh!  More time on enforced sucking.

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

Did I say ugh?  Well I meant it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was shocked.  “A Christmas list?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She sighed.  “What?”

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

“And what?”

“And…I’m not going out like this!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I started to breath a sigh of relief.

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

Darn woman!

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

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

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

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

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

“A week?”

“Yes.  A week.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, I really was going to kill her.

Darn woman!  Darn, darn, darn woman!