The Babysitter

Chapter 37
The Babysitter, Part 37

Part 37

‘No. Just say ‘no.’

Even if she thought I was Miley, even if she thought I was thirteen, it was insane to suggest that I should wear pull-ups during the day. Absolutely insane. 

And yet, I found myself reluctantly muttering, “Okay.” Because if I had to guess, it didn’t have anything to do with the chances–which were zero–of me wetting myself this morning. Noelle was merely leaping at an opportunity to get rebellious, authority-disrespecting Miley to behave. And with Paige around, Noelle’s plan was admittedly perfect. I wasn’t about to step out of line and risk my step-sister realizing what I was wearing underneath my shorts. If I ended up getting spanked in front of Paige again, there would be no hiding the pull-ups, plus Noelle had already implied that she might not stay quiet about my little accident if I gave her reason to punish me. Either way, I would need to be careful. 

Wait, could I even wear these shorts? They were pretty snug and, though I wasn’t really familiar with the babyish underwear she was planning on putting me into, I knew they wouldn’t be as thin as the panties I currently had on. 

“Good,” she nodded, speaking up before I could think too many things through, “Why don’t you undress in the bathroom? I’ll be right back.” Not a discussion. Without waiting to confirm whether or not I was planning on listening to her, she turned and left my bedroom. At least she closed the door behind her this time around. 

Sighing to myself, I only hesitated for a few seconds before returning to the bathroom. I couldn’t see a way out of this unique babysitting tactic, which meant my best course of action was to suck it up for a few hours while I tried to figure out what my next move was. 

The wet clothes crumpled in the corner were another reminder of why Noelle deemed it appropriate to put me in underwear designed for girls far younger and less mature than even Miley. I knew that every second of delaying the inevitable would make it that much more difficult to make myself get started. At least stripping off dry shorts and underwear was far more natural and familiar to me than what I had to awkwardly deal with before my shower. 

I had never really done the babysitting thing myself. The extent of my experience was a single job I had taken for a family down the road, and that was only because their mother was desperate and I was available that evening and a two minute walk away from their house. All I really had to do was make them pasta and tell them when it was time for bed. Other than that, they were fine doing their own thing for the most part. 

The point was, I didn’t know what to expect when it came to pull-ups. Based on the name, I was hoping that just meant that I would have to pull them up. As in, Noelle didn’t need to be involved in the process. Putting them on, period, was going to be bad enough. 

Just seconds after I set my clothes down by the sink, I heard Noelle return. That was fast. Then again, she would probably be staying in the guest room down the hall, so she wouldn’t have had far to go. There was a reason I left the bathroom door cracked the slightest bit; moving quickly now that I knew I was no longer alone, I grabbed the nearest hand towel when I realized I had left my full one in the other room. On the off chance that she came in without knocking, I didn’t want to be standing there bottomless. 

“Miley?” she called out, “Are you all set for your temporary protection?”

Not in the slightest. And though she had made a point to close the door behind her the last few times, I couldn’t help but worry about it while I didn’t have eyes on that part of my bedroom. “Umm, yeah,” I replied.

“I hope so,” Noelle said, “We’re already behind schedule. Now, I’m going to pass in a pull-up for you to try on, okay? If it fits, you’re going to come out here for me to double check that it’s the right size.”

As in, I was going to have to leave the bathroom in just pull-ups below my waist? I would have preferred to put my shorts back on right away, though I was also a little desensitized to Noelle seeing me in various immature/embarrassing states. It was a lot better than Paige being present for something like this, and I had also learned since Noelle’s arrival that picking my battles was crucial when faced with a babysitter who was hired for a girl like Miley. 

“Okay,” I muttered. Cracking the door another couple inches while making sure to keep my half naked body fully behind it, I waited for Noelle to hold out the less than ideal underwear option she retrieved for me. I had been anticipating something white, like the diapers I occasionally saw in commercials or on the rare baby or toddler in real life. The light pink of the pull-ups came as a surprise. A quiet “Thank you” escaped my lips before I could help it. Blushing as my polite instincts caused me to express gratitude for something I had no desire for, I quickly closed the bathroom door and huffed out a sigh. 

Best to rip the band-aid off, right? I tentatively unfolded the pull-up, liking it even less when I felt how heavily padded the lower section was. It was pink, and bulky, and definitely closer to diapers than it was to panties. The only parallel that it had with the latter was that putting on the pull-up required stepping into the leg holes to put it on. Noelle’s read on my size had been spot on, too. The only point of resistance was when I had to wriggle the babyish underwear over my ass, and even that didn’t take very much before it was situated on my hips. Adjusting the awkward and unfamiliar thing here and there, cringing at the padding between my thighs that was impossible to ignore, I reluctantly turned towards the mirror to check myself out. 

The teenager looking back at me was definitely not the Alyssa I knew. Honestly, I would rather have been naked. I was at least used to seeing my nude self after any given shower. But with slightly unkempt hair from how I slept on it, not a trace of make-up on my face, a training bra that flattened my chest, and nothing but a thick pull-up on my lower half, I couldn’t deny that I looked younger than eighteen. I still felt that my reflection resembled a girl who was closer to fourteen or fifteen, though I guess I could see how Noelle was mistaking me for thirteen year old Miley. Just like I was an older girl who looked younger than I was, there were plenty of teenagers who looked mature for their age. 

Regardless, it was hardly a win to be perceived as a middle school girl who looked a year or two older than she actually was. 

“Almost done, Miley?” Noelle asked through the door. 

“Uh huh,” I told both her and the girl in the mirror. 

Stalling wouldn’t do me any favors. So, after taking a deep breath and giving myself a firm look, I opened the door. 

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