I was dumbfounded to say the least. Here I was – a strapping lad of almost fifteen years (OK, fourteen and two months), not having gotten into any real trouble for more than a year and being frequently told (praised!) by my 'rents how mature I was. Now that they went away for a few days they got me a babysitter. Yea, they didn't call him that but a rose by any other name would prick as deep. It wasn't like I would skip school since it was a school break or turn into a druggy. I could do that any time but I know how stupid that would be. Yea, I might stay up late but then I would sleep late so that's just a big yawn. I could arrange to have dinner with friends and mom showed me how to order in because she does it several times a week rather than cooking. And I certainly can load the toaster and microwave as well as she can. It just hurts that they don't really trust me to survive and not wreak the house for a week.
It hurts. Really and truly!
Well, I got up to say goodbye as they went off to the resort planning to claim a business trip on their tax return. A fine example of adult responsibility doing that. Well, it was then that I meet him. The babysitter. Sheldon, a twenty year old college student. Certainly, not a name to inspire confidence nor was his appearance since he was only five foot eight – a full inch (175 cm some 2.5 cm) shorter than I. He looked pretty weak too since he was struggling with his bag. I gave it a heft and it was pretty light too for after all how much does one need for a few days. I guessed I could manage if he leaves me alone and maybe he can play video games well. Perhaps he learnt that in college.
I soon learnt that he is a first class prick. He came with a list of rules that would have been restrictive even for a kid half my age. They were all neatly printed out and he let slip that his "mommy" (that's a quote for he did not say "mother") made up for him. As I read them I got sick for they were written in the first person plural. I really could not believe the things in his rules. Early bedtimes and afternoon naps and pull ups and time-outs in the corner (a minute per year of age) and even spankings – bare bottom at that.
We had a difficult discussion. Sheldon insisted that since I needed a babysitter, that I must be a baby and babies wear diapers. He spent more than an hour looking for them in all the closets in the house before he conceded that I was telling him the truth. I only made progress on the bedtimes by pointing out that I was in high school and not preschool. I had to threaten to run away and call my parents before he would give up on the afternoon naps. I would have gone to a friend and showed his rational 'rents the irrational rules and be protected from this nutcase.© YLeeCoyote
He wouldn't budge about the spanking but I figured I could continue to be good for a few days and avoid any. My last spanking was when I was eleven. Dad said that I truly earned it. When he came to my room we had a long chat about it and, reluctantly, I agreed that he was right. Dad allowed me to drop my jeans and briefs and get over his lap rather than manhandling me into position. Of course, his big hand SPANKING my little bottom hurt a great deal and made me cry but I retained some dignity by accepting punishment without fighting. Dad was proud of me too which certainly helped a bit coping with my sore tail.
The next couple of days with Sheldon were difficult but I survived. I managed to get home by ten as required and to bed by eleven. I was not very happy but I was keeping a careful log to use the next time the folks took a trip and wanted to have a babysitter for me. Sheldon was pretty incompetent. Apparently his mommy did everything for him for he did even know how to boil water. As least Mom sometimes managed to cook dinner and could keep me in clean clothes and the house livable. I kept my room neat and documented that and the way Sheldon's was a disaster zone (as Mom would have called it). I did not have to worry about the kitchen since all that had to be done was take out the containers unless I cooked something.
The next evening I was just watching a great flick on cable and I realized that Sheldon was not back by my bedtime. I did want to give him any excuses to spank me, so I showered and got into bed with a book. Yes, a book although an e-book. It was about midnight when Sheldon returned, quite noisily. I got up and watched him make his way to his room. He was using the braille system to navigate as he kept bumping into the wall. He was definitely tipsy. I was glad that I had my camera ready for I caught him staggering. It was certainly not what I expected from him as that what normal guys do and he was not normal.
I confronted him right there in the hallway. "You're a fine example. Coming back drunk and very late. And DWI also." I yelled at him.
He was pitiful at best for he immediately started to apologize and claim he was sorry. He was also confused because he slurred stuff and even said: "Daddy" to me.
"Get to your room!" I yelled at him, "You are a very naughty boy."
"Yes, Sir." he said and ran to the guestroom. I turned and headed back to my room and then the idea came to me. I could continue this and roast his tail. He certainly earned a spanking for being drunk, late and DWI and it would make me feel a lot better after all the grief he had caused me. I reversed course and headed for the guest room.
"You have been a most naughty boy. You're late! You're drunk. You were driving while drunk." I yelled at him being sure to get up close so as to be in his face. All he could do was whimper. I opened his belt and pulled it from his chinos which I then opened and yanked down. His generic tightie-whities showed yellow stains proving that he was a careless little boy who did know how pee properly. I yanked them down and ordered him to bend over the bed. He obeyed to my great delight.
"You're getting a dozen. Don't get up until I say to, boy." He grunted and I folded the belt and started. It was music to my ears as it connected with his naughty butt with a loud crack. He yelled and jumped up. "Back into position and we'll start over, boy." He stayed in place for only two more and I had to restart a second time. What a wimp! By the time I was finished he had a fiery red ass that would be sore for days and was bawling. I sure felt better though.
I then ordered him into the corner, hands on his head for twenty minutes following his rules. Throughout all of this I was taking pictures for the record. It was very silly but I actually sat there reading and watching his glowing butt while he did his corner time. Then I ordered him to bed and returned to mine.
I went to check on him late morning and woke him up. When he sat up, I was delighted that he winced from the pain in his well-strapped bottom. And he had wet the bed! I made him strip the bed and then clean and dry the mattress protector which we have for one of my cousins who still has control issues. I had to instruct him how to load up the washer to deal with the wet bed clothes. He was pitiful. I sent him to shower.
I took advantage of his ridiculous rules and insisted that we go get him "protection" to prevent further accidents. He did not want to but I insisted that those were his rules and that we had to follow them as we had agreed at the beginning. When I suggested that perhaps he would see this my way after another strapping, he acquiesced. If he had not had those stupid rules, I certainly would not have thought about getting him diapers but I certainly felt good about doing it.
Sheldon probably could have found some sort of brief style protection if he had looked carefully at the display in the store but the first ones we saw were for little kids so we got adult diapers. During the day I thought of something else. When it was bedtime, I took charge again. I insisted that he go pee-pee and then I would diaper him. He did not like that idea but I knew that he would not do the job right alone so I agreed to let him try. He proved to be as clumsy at putting on a diaper as everything else. I had him lay on the bed and then slipped the diaper under his still red butt. Then I pointed out that babies who need diapers can't have hair because that would make for an unhygienic mess. He was confused enough that I was able to quickly run the hair clipper through his pubes before he realized what I was doing. Once I sheared the bulk of his little bush with four quick passes, he did have any fight in him to stop me from finishing up and getting him nice and smooth. Then I wiped away the loose hairs with a wet towel and powered him before taping up the diaper.
It was a good day. Well, good for me anyway.
Sheldon was a good little boy for the remaining two days. He did not try to boss me about and I applied his rules to him. After all, he proved he was certainly not a grown up. When he was leaving, I said: "Here, don't forget your diapers, Sheldon." so that my folks heard and saw. They would be part of my arguments about staying alone next time.