Chapter Description: Tommy gets a surprise babysitter
Chapter 33: A different kind of date night.
He wanted a girl who hates dusty roads
He wanted a girl who cries porcelain tears
He wanted a girl who'd put locks on the door
To protect all those gemstones she's got in her ears
“His bedtime is eight o’clock,” Mom said. “Don’t let him try to stall you or tell you otherwise.”
Amanda Monroe nodded her head. “Yes ma’am.”
“I already gave him a bath this morning, so he shouldn’t need one tonight.”
“Make sure he tries to go potty before bed, and change him into his nighttime Pull-Ups too.”
“He can watch cartoons for one hour, after dinner.” Mom held up her pointer and showed it specifically to Tommy.
“Yes ma’am.” Amanda and Tommy said in unison.
Mom returned her full attention to Amanda. “There's microwavable macaroni and cheese in the freezer for him, and a frozen pizza for you. On the off chance that his sister comes home from her date early, just text me and I’ll venmo you for the full time. My number and all the emergency numbers are on the refrigerator. I’ll be back by ten.”
Amanda nodded demurely. “Yes ma’am.”
Mom took a knee and looked at Tommy. “Have you tried going potty lately?”
“Uh-huh.” That was a lie and Tommy knew it.
“Promise to be good for you babysitter?”
Tommy looked up to Amanda Monroe. “Uh-huh!” This was not a lie. Whatever strange reality warping effects had twisted his size and other people’s memories, Tommy had decided that this was one of the good ones.
He’d spent all day pretending to learn letter sounds and how to count to twenty as his mother “homeschooled” him. He didn’t even go to school anymore, it seemed. He might have still been eighteen, but now he was too “little” to go to public school and Mom was suddenly well off enough to keep him home and bombard him with educational television and toys, alongside crayon worksheets and books meant to make the potty less scary for toddlers.
This may or may not have been frustratingly boring if she hadn’t slipped that both she and Katy were going to be out of the house tonight, and so he would have a babysitter: “Miss Amanda.” That had caught Tommy off guard in the best possible way and he’d spent the rest of the afternoon making sure to act like someone who needed a babysitter.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Dean,” Amanda chirped. “Me and Tommy will have lots of fun.” She pulled Tommy into a side hug, his face planting just above the soft skin of her hip and Tommy wished that his face would just melt off and merge with it right here. “Do you like board games, buddy?” She gestured over to the coffee table where boxes of Candy Land, Uncle Wiggly, and Shoots and Ladders had been stacked.
Tommy looked up adoringly at her. He loved board games if it meant sitting across from her. Amanda Monroe, the real Amanda Monroe. No more pointy elf ears. No more fantasy facsimiles. And Tommy had already done the math, so to speak: If no one ever remembered him going to school; then Amanda wouldn’t remember him either. This was an unprecedented opportunity. A fresh start. A second chance to make a first impression! No more D-List.
Not even a week ago, Amanda had held his hand and his entire soul had tingled. Now she was pressing his head against her hip. His insides were on fire. Before, she’d taken him to the nurse’s office when he’d wet his pants. Tommy had taken it as a sign of her sweet, caring, nurturing nature. Tonight, she was his literal babysitter!
It’s why Tommy had lied about going potty. His reduced stature had had the side effect of making it...difficult...to get to the potty on time. For the last few days, Tommy’s bladder had gone from zero to ready to explode in a matter of half-a-minute at best. Was his bladder that much smaller, or was it just his internal sensitivity that reduced? As soon as Tommy learned that Amanda would be taking care of him, Tommy decided that he didn’t know and didn’t care.
He'd made every effort to NOT make it to the potty that afternoon; and to focus on getting rid of any outward sign of urgency, discomfort, or even enjoyment (especially enjoyment) when he wet himself. Not-coincidentally, he’d been very focused on staying hydrated and Mommy hadn’t had the heart to limit his fluids.
Why was he doing all this? Because little boys who did the potty dance and fidgeted might get picked up and put on the potty, but toddlers who just kept playing or singing or laughing through their accident just got checked and changed. Tommy was sabotaging his own toilet training just so that Amanda could give him the full baby treatment.
Just the thought, the fleeting fantasy of Amanda changing him- laying him down, cooing at him while she wiped his penis for him as he giggled up at her and sucked his thumb- was giving him a raging erection that only something as thickly padded as his Pull-Ups and denim shorts could hope to hide. (Ironically enough, this would also make it more difficult to pee.)
“You be good for Miss Amanda,” Mom said. Then she gave him a kiss on the cheek and then walked out the door into the pre-dusk light.
And then he was alone. With Amanda. Tommy’s throat went dry. “So what do you wanna do first, little guy?” Amanda asked.
Tommy’s mind raced. There was no “good” answer to that question. So many things he wanted to do to her and her to do to him. He waddled back and drove his hands into his pockets. The still crips crinkle from his pants signalled that he was still very much dry. How to kill time and wait for his bladder to catch up to that big gulp’s worth of water he’d chugged half-an-hour ago.
“Um...Candyland?” he said, as bits of guilt radiated in his spine.
“Deal!” she said.
Amanda took her spot on the couch in front of the coffee table and began setting the children’s game up. Tommy was about to take a seat next to her, and then course corrected for the floor. Not only was it socially appropriate for him to play on the carpet, he calculated, but it would also get him a good look at Amanda’s cleavage every time she leaned forward on the couch.
“Which gingerbread man do you want to be?”
It took three turns for Tommy to calm down enough to start being interested in the game. It had been awhile since he’d been “old enough” to play this game, but Tommy quickly realized there was absolutely no skill involved; complete crap shoot. On turn one he’d gotten the best possible draw short of a picture shortcut. On turn two, he only moved one square. On turn four he managed to cheat a bit by pretending he didn’t see one square and moved double while Amanda checked something on her phone.
On turn five, his bladder finally got into the game. His padding went soggy almost immediately, and even though the quiet hiss resonated in his ears, Amanda didn’t seem to notice as her game piece click and clacked along the board. “Having fun?” she asked. Tommy nodded, but his dopey grin had nothing to do with the game or the colors...almost nothing.
Tommy waited, and bided his time on the carpet. He was starting to enjoy the game, as well as the view. The feeling of the wet Pull-Up taking on a hard kind of squish as the pulp absorbed and spread out was nice too. Maybe wait till after the game, Tommy told himself. If he was too quick about telling on his “accident”, Amanda might think he was big enough to change himself.
Flashes of last time he’d peed his pants in front of her flitted across his eyelids. She had been nice enough, for sure, but she’d left him as soon as another adult took charge. And the school nurse had insisted that Tommy clean himself up (not that he’d wanted the nurse’s tender ministrations).
Tommy wanted more than just being plopped on the potty and being told to clean himself up. He had to play this right. He had to prove that he was little enough to need help. In the meantime, he was enjoying the game and the scenery.
One game turned to two. Two to three. Midway through game three Tommy’s bladder let loose again. Such an odd feeling, wetting his already wet pants. He supposed he felt a little bit wetter, but the contrast wasn’t nearly as stark between pure dry and wet. Just a slight heat from the fresh urine, the feeling of relief from the empty bladder and a tad bit more weight being distributed as the Pull-Up did its best to absorb the new stuff, passing it on to dryer pastures when the already wet sections had become saturated.
No wonder real babies were so hard to potty train. If Tommy hadn’t been paying specific attention to his bladder he might not have realized he was peeing that second time. No wonder adults had to check…
CHECK! That was it! He wouldn’t tattle on himself. He’d let his wet Pull-Up tattle for him. Surely, Amanda wouldn’t trust him to clean himself up if he just kept squishing around in wet pants until she noticed.
The perfect plan!
“How about some din-din?” Amanda asked, breaking, Tommy’s concentration.
Tommy agreed and stood up. THAT was different. The quasi-diaper sagged beneath him, swelling up in his pants and drooping back down towards the carpet. NOTICEABLY! There was no way that Amanda wouldn’t notice that he needed changing.
Several minutes went by. The microwave beeped, and a steaming bowl of macaroni and cheese was placed in front of his booster seat. Amanda didn’t say one thing. Not about his pants. Not about whether or not he needed to use the potty. Nothing except. “Okay, Tom-Tom. Time to dig in.” She plopped a plastic spoon into the yellow noodles before hoisting Tommy up into his booster chair by the armpits.
Even that bit of physical contact caused Tommy to mellow. That was fine. This was fine. Everything was fine. “What are you gonna eat?” Tommy asked.
“Like your mom said,” Amanda replied, “I’ve got some pizza. I’m not hungry just yet. I’ll probably have some after you go to bed.”
That was a bit of a bummer, Tommy thought, but at least that meant he’d be the center of attention! So overcome with a combination of joy and hunger, that several spoonfuls of mushy cheesy goodness made it into his mouth before an idea occurred to him. Darn it! Missed opportunities! Still...worth a try.
“Miss Amanda,” Tommy mewled, trying to sound cute. “Do you think you could help me?”
Amanda looked up from her phone. “With what?”
“Maybe you could...feed me?”
He got a condescending smirk. “Cute,” she said. “But I don’t think you need any help with that.”
“Maybe you could blow on it for me? Like my Mommy does?”
“You just shoveled a bunch into your mouth. It’s not too hot.”
Tommy fought the urge to snap his fingers in regret. Still it had been worth a try. Even this rejection had been nicer and softer than anything Amanda had said to him before. Tonight might have been the first time that Tommy could remember having something resembling small talk.
Couldn’t blame him for trying…
Time for one last ditch effort.
The eighteen year old toddler opened his eyes as big as they could, pouted his lip out and jutted his chin. Time for full puppy dog face. “PWEEEEEEEEEASE!”
Amanda giggled and rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she said. Then she bent over
“Thank you!” Tommy said, and then he began shoveling more of the processed noodles down his throat.
Amanda didn’t say, “You’re welcome”. Instead she said something that might’ve been better. “Boys. You’re all the same.” On some level, Amanda knew Tommy was flirting with her, and she wasn’t outright disgusted by it or rejecting him!
Mouth still full of macaroni, Tommy looked down at his pants. There was a definite lump in the front, almost like his underwear was eggshapped. How was she not noticing that he needed changing? A quick glance up from the table confirmed that she was again looking at her phone?
What was so interesting?
Tommy cleared his throat. Nothing. He did it again, and got a napkin absentmindedly handed to him. “Careful with that cough. Cover your mouth.” Another brilliant idea entered his brain!
If coughing got him a napkin. Carefully, Tommy gave the front of his pants a pat. The crinkling wasn’t nearly as crisp as before, but it was still audible. Maybe the sound of a wet Pull-Up being jostled would remind his new sitter to check.
He gave it a firmer pat and a squeeze. Then another. Then another. Without consciously realizing it, Tommy was starting to rub himself through the wet padding. The crinkling continued, and then
And she still wasn’t looking at him. Tommy rubbed his Pull-Up harder and faster, quickly building up steam, until there was more going on in his pants than just some light rustling.
Amanda wasn’t looking at him, but he could still see her face. So perfect. So beautiful. And the fact that she wasn’t looking at him groping his penis through the thick padding was ceasing to make him feel ignored as much as it was giving him the impression of him getting away with something. He wasn’t being ignored and unnoticed...he was being naughty.
How Tommy loved the feeling of being naughty!
She knew what he was doing. That’s what he told himself, anyways. How could she not? How could she not hear the noise he was making? How could she not look away from her phone. She was pretending. Maybe if he moaned a little bit? No...no...not subtle enough. Why ruin it?
She would catch him. Then she would call him a naughty little thing and talk about how little boys shouldn’t play with themselves!
She would let him finish, and then stop pretending to notice. She’d coo at him and playfully ask him if he was all done. THEN she’d take him back to his room and change him into a nice clean pair of Pull-Ups. She’d only been pretending not to notice because deep down she knew what was happening and didn’t want him the Pull-Up to be wasted...
THUNK THUNK THUNK!
Still in his booster seat, Tommy startled and shook. Just like with his peeing into the already wet padding, he couldn’t tell if he’d cum or just instantly lost his erection from shock. He certainly didn’t feel any sense of relief. His heart was beating too hard, and mischievous delight was giving way to shame and guilt. Within seconds the only throbbing going on was in his chest.
Tommy’s heart both leapt into his throat and plummeted down into his stomach. Simultaneously he felt as if he’d been caught on the verge of doing something awful and wrong or been interrupted just before he made it all the way. Tommy jerked his head over to the oven clock. Was the date over already? It couldn’t be! Neither his mother or his sister should be back by now. More importantly, no one who lived here would knock. Both Katlynn and Mom had keys.
Amanda got up from the couch and ran for the door like an excited labradoodle. Tommy did his best to follow her, but his sagging underwear got in his way, forcing him to contort out of the chair and waddle along the ground most uncomfortably. Trying to beat off through his wet pants had only spread the pulp around, making it lumpy and awkward and his dick slightly raw.
Amanda didn’t even look over her shoulder as she unlocked and opened the door. “Heeeeeeeeeey!” she squealed.
“Hey?” Tommy wondered. “Hey who?” Regrettably, he didn’t have to wait long for his answer. The door flung open, and Tommy lost his breath. “Assassin….” Josh Hamlin was no elven assassin, however. Nor was Amanda an ex-sorceress queen. Neither of those facts helped Tommy unclench his jaw and fists as Amanda leaned in and gave Josh a hug and a kiss on the lips.
“Hey babe,” Josh said. He stepped in through the door and Amanda locked it behind him. “Sorry I took so long. Nice place.”
“Yeah,” Amanda agreed. “Ms. Dean is kinda loaded.”
Every step that Hamlin took into the house made Tommy shake a little bit more with rage. Technically, Tommy couldn’t remember living in this place for more than a couple days, but it had still been his infinitely longer than Josh’s.
Bully. Invader. Trespasser. He had no right to be here and Amanda was letting him sling himself over her like a cheap coat.
While Tommy still had the lingering nerd habit of relating life to various forms of musical theater, he was finding Dr. Seuss more than up to the task in this instance. Josh should not be here. He should not be a bout. He should not be here when Tommy’s mother was out.
“What is he doing here?” Tommy sneered. Josh was unwelcome any day of the week, this evening was no exception.
His fearsome expression did not have the desired effect. “Oh…” Amanda said. It was as if she didn’t expect Tommy to have any quarrels about uninvited guests; yet alone Josh Hamlin. “Tommy, this is Josh. He’s my uh...helper. He’s my babysitter’s helper.”
“Sup, little man?” Casually, thoughtlessly even, Josh gave Amanda another kiss and boiled Tommy’s blood an extra degree. He even was bold enough to reach forward and try to pat Tommy on the head. He got his hand slapped away from his trouble.
“He’s not supposed to be here,” Tommy growled.
“Oh don’t be rude,” Amanda cooed at him. “Big girls like me...need company every now and then. Otherwise we get...lonely.”
Tommy felt himself tearing up. “But...but...you’re supposed to be MY…” he stopped himself and corrected. “..babysitter. My babysitter.”
Amanda took a knee and wiped away his tears. “Sorry, bud. You’re too...little for me.”
Josh laughed. “Sure you are, little dude. Sure you are.”
“Actually he is,” Amanda looked up behind her. “He’s got some kind of developmental condition.”
“Seriously? I thought he was like six, tops.”
“I’m telling!” Tommy said. He pointed up to Josh. “When my Mommy gets back, I’m telling that you had him over!” That made Josh look distinctly uncomfortable. The discomfort more than doubled when Tommy added. “Josh Hamlin! Senior at Scrumpton High!” Josh looked like he was actually considering hitting Tommy.
“But Tommy,” Amanda said; her voice sickeningly sweet. “If you do that, your Mommy will never hire me to babysit you again. We’ll never get to play Candyland ever again. You don’t want that, do you?”
Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!
She DID know! She knew how he felt about her and was manipulating him just like her high fantasy counterpart! And this time Tommy had no magic strength or flight to counter with.
A cramping in his stomach cut off any reply that Tommy might have formulated. A moan, not of pleasure, but pain, took to the air as he helplessly filled the back of his pants up to the brim. Try as he might, Tommy just froze and watched as condescending and manipulative stares mutated to disgust. He couldn’t even slam his eyes shut.
His ex-peers weren’t looking away, and neither could he, much as he’d wished.
He got no replies of “oopsie”, or coos that he needed to get changed. He saw no adoring faces ready to baby him. No one was readying to change him or use any euphemism to make his act seem or feel more innocent or cute.
“JESUS!” Josh yelped, pinching his nose and waving his hand in front of his face. “Did he do what I think he did? Did he just shit himself?”
“Yup,” Amanda sighed. “He’s not potty trained. He’s been waddling around in pissy pants all night, too. I’ve been putting off changing him.”
SO SHE HAD NOTICED!
“I think he was starting to beat off too. Kinda awkward.” Josh didn’t laugh...but that made it worse. “I don’t think it’s his fault.”
“Totally not,” Josh agreed. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing. But uh...d’you mind...baby sitter?”
Amanda stood up and grabbed Tommy by the arm. “Come on, Tommy, let’s pop you in the shower real quick. Fastest way to clean you up. Then it’ll be time for bed.”
“But it’s only seven thirty!” Tommy whined!
“In the shower, Tommy,” Amanda ordered. That’s that! You’re stinky and poopy and I don’t have the patience to deal with this right now!” Her voice was stern and authoritative.
Tommy felt little and small, but not particularly loved. Just helpless.
Tommy felt his will melt away. He was just a chore to her. Something to manipulate and deal with and get paid. That filled his head more than the sound of any crinkling off of bathroom tiles or the sound of running water being switched on.
The shower was quick. And though Tommy had been forced to strip down naked in front of her, he felt neither excitement or a sense of intimacy. He was neither a baby nor a boyfriend...and he’d so hoped he could be at least one or the other to Amanda; something to be loved. Rather, he was a prisoner in his own home, with a guard that he really didn’t feel he knew or understood.
She showered him off and used the movable head to target his filthy bum and his pee soaked front. Like a good prisoner, Tommy stood still. A warm washcloth was used to pry loose what couldn’t be spayed off. The contents of the Pull-Up were dumped into the toilet before being tied up in a plastic shopping bag to contain the smell.
From a technical standpoint, Amanda was doing her job. But there was no love. Tommy was just beginning to accept that….
He didn’t put up a fight when she wrapped a towel around him and carried him to his bedroom. He didn’t fuss when she popped open a pair of Buzz Lightyear nighttime Pull-Ups and proclaimed him ready for bed. He didn’t cry when she tucked him in, turned on the nightlight and then closed the door...not loudly anyway.
Through the door he could hear Amanda and Josh talking. He couldn’t hear the words, but the tone told him all he needed to know. They weren’t talking about him anymore at least. The couch in the living room was no longer beat up. Neither was the old clock. Yet when the clock struck eight, he could still imagine he heard old springs squeaking in the living room, and the moaning of two teenagers grinding against each other; their tongues down each other’s throats. Part of him wished he could sneak out and escape to that bizarre and terrible world contained within that clock.
Tommy went to sleep that night with tears in his eyes, left only to imagine what could have happened. It was something he’d become adept at, but was becoming increasingly dissatisfied with. Even the admittedly pleasant feeling of wet padding up against his skin didn’t blunt the hurt he was feeling just then. Amanda was never going to be his.
Not in this reality or any other.
He’d wasted so much time pining after and seeking some form of connection that could never form. That was something that was more impossible than anything Malacus offered.
It was that night that Tommy learned to distinguish between living in a fantasy world and an imaginary one.
aged8years4ever · Oct 8, 2023I gotta see Tommy slide into being a permanent kid... I'm sure I'm not the only one looking forward to more of this one. Thanks for writing!