The Babysitter, Part 63

This was the point of no return. It was the definition of that phrase.

The whole ‘Miley’ experience was particularly frustrating because I was normally a rather honest girl. At the moment, I was in the impossible situation of not being able to tell the truth or come up with a good lie of how this happened. So I froze, wishing for some miracle that almost certainly wouldn’t end up playing out. Miley’s parents calling Noelle in the next five seconds, and verbalizing their confusion about an older sister being involved in the job? My parents coming home from their extended business trip being canceled? A neighbor knocking on the door and giving me enough time to deal with this myself and proving to Noelle that I didn’t need her help? I wasn’t picky.

Of course, none of that happened. Noelle finished cutting through the first side of the pull-up, and got to work on the second. Before she was even done with that, her nose crinkled as she caught a whiff of what had escaped the slightly open padding. It wasn’t much longer before she finished the task at hand with the scissors. With my legs awkwardly splayed, there was nothing keeping the pull-up between my thighs as she let it fall open.

I could only imagine how bad it looked. If I had been able to carefully remove the pull-ups right after the ‘accident,’ that would have been one thing. But between what the real Miley did, as well as how I had both been seated at the kitchen table and was now lying on the bathroom floor, it was going to take a lot more work to clean me up. Sure enough, Noelle grimaced at the sight. The awful smell hit us both within a few seconds as well, causing her to recoil slightly. I couldn’t do the same in my current position, nor would it help due to where the source was. “I hope you’re happy,” she muttered, “You’re definitely the oldest girl I’ve ever had to do this with.”

This might’ve been the first time Noelle slipped out of her more controlled babysitter demeanor. To her credit, she caught herself pretty quickly and managed to keep a straight face for the most part after the initial expression of disgust. Meanwhile, I was way too embarrassed to focus on much beyond her reaction itself. I’m not sure what I thought was going to happen when she finally removed the pull-ups, as I had been too busy praying to wake up from this nightmare. Between me and Paige, I was easily the more mature sister. At least, until yesterday.

“I’m sorry!” I blurted out. What else was there to say? I wasn’t at all the immature girl she thought I was, yet it continued to look that way thanks to the interference and scheming of the others. “Paige just- I mean-” As soon as I started trying to explain, I realized how absurd it would sound. Paige made me shit in my pull-ups, or at least push to the point where it happened naturally? Obviously, Noelle wouldn’t believe that, especially now that I was the girl who cried wolf regarding my step-sister.

Noelle took a deep breath. “I don’t want to talk about this until I’m done cleaning you up. One more word, Miley, and you’re going to get a spanking in front of everyone here. Nod if you understand.”

My eyes widened. It was another iteration of her recent threat to get one or more of the other girls involved, and it was just as effective as before. Being over Noelle’s knee in front of Paige was bad enough; I absolutely didn’t want a repeat performance in front of my sister’s friends and our bratty neighbor who had set these events into motion.

I meekly nodded, and the following silence on my end verified that I wasn’t planning on rebelling like the Miley upstairs might.

The changing process was long and arduous. Not even because Noelle was trying to punish me in such a way. My ass may not have been the most impressive compared to most girls my age, but it still wasn’t particularly efficient to clean it with wipes. Noelle started out by having me hold myself up as she dealt with the worst of it. Then, deciding she’d rather waste a diaper than make a mess or deal with a bunch of gross towels, she slid the used pull-ups out from under me and had me lower myself onto one of the diapers she apparently bought when we stopped by the pharmacy.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t move.” After carefully putting the used pull-ups into a grocery bag, she left me alone in the bathroom again and went off to dispose of them. Like before, it wasn’t as if I could do anything but stay where I was awkwardly positioned on the floor. Less than a minute later, she returned. “Okay. That should help with the smell. Hopefully. Now, let’s deal with the rest.”

It was generous of her to phrase it as if this was a collective effort. The only way I was really contributing was shifting and lifting my ass as she continued to wipe me down. I was most humiliated as she dug around between my cheeks with the wet wipes; all I could do was bite my tongue and try not to squirm as she meticulously cleaned every inch of where the dirty padding had been. Even if I was allowed to talk, could I really complain? While this was a lot, Noelle’s process didn’t feel like a punishment; she was just being thorough. The punishment was simply the diaper change as a whole.

By the end of it all, Noelle had filled another grocery bag with wipes and the two diapers she had used for me to lie on in lieu of a changing surface. Finally, she pulled out a diaper that I would actually be wearing. While I was still mortified at the concept of being put into underwear that was more babyish than pull-ups, I was also somewhat relieved that I would be wearing something. I was normally the kind of girl who got in and out of the locker room as quickly as possible; now I was bottomless and splayed, while hairless down there thanks to Paige and/or her friends. Despite how Noelle was professional and no-nonsense throughout all of this, and hadn’t batted an eye in regards to my exposure because of the brat she believed me to be, I wanted to be dressed as soon as possible.

If that meant wearing diapers, then whatever. Of course, it was easy to think like that in my current state. Once I was clothed and less flustered, I was going to have to find a way to convince Noelle that I was perfectly capable of making it to the bathroom like any other thirteen year old girl.

. . . And also, convince her that I was an eighteen year old girl.

Once she had the open diaper positioned properly underneath me, Noelle surprised me when she didn’t tape it up right away. Instead, she turned to her bag and pulled out a bottle of baby powder. Before I knew it, she had removed the lid and was facing me again. “To keep you from getting a rash if you have another accident,” she said.

Just like that, Noelle turned the bottle over and began pouring the white powder all over my crotch.