How Not To Babysit part 11
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How Not To Babysit - Part 5 free porn video
PART FIVE: ACQUIRED
It took a moment but I finally came back to my senses. Was it shock? I
don't know. I just stood in the driveway like this for god knows how much
time while sucking on that binky.
I spat out the binky, ran to the garage and tried to lift the huge
double-door. It wouldn't budge. Of course it wouldn't budge... that would
have saved me. I slipped alongside the house to the backyard gate. It was
usually locked from the inside. We only ever used this gate to let guests
in or to bring in new items for the patio. It wouldn't move for me
either. The gate was too tall. I couldn't climb it. I managed to grab on
to the top and pull myself but I was barely 2 ft off the ground and
nowhere near putting my leg over or straightening my arms. I collapsed
and landed on my rear. Once again, I heard the crinkle of the ruffles,
the crumple of the diaper, and the smooshing of my shit.
Stupid key. Stupid lock on this stupid dress. Who puts a lock on panties?
What puzzle-loving asshole designed this nightie? Stupid hidden key.
HIDDEN KEY! I think we put a key under one of the bricks that line the
driveway. Man, Larry must have arranged for that 8 years ago? I kinda
remember it. Which brick?
I scurried back to the front of the house and walked right up to the
third brick on the left side of the driveway. I crouched down and wiggled
it side to side. After a minute, the brick popped out of the ground.
Beneath it was a key! I'd rather the key to my panties or dress but I'll
take the key to the house. I placed the brick back and ran to the front
door. There wasn't daylight yet but the streetlamps were on. People may
see me. I have to move.
The key fit the lock but wouldn't turn. What the shit!? I depressed the
latch and struggled with the key. It won't move. Why can't anything be
easy? I take the key out of the lock and check it. There's dirt in the
grooves, some of it fresh, some of it crusty. I work it clean with my
fingernail and brush it with my hem. A couple of breaths on it and it's
clean. I try it again.
MOTHERFUCKER! It won't turn. My emotions run high and I almost pound my
fist on the door. That won't do. Can't wake anyone up. Gotta stay
stealthy. Gotta be a ninja. Gotta think. I crawled in the corner where
the garage juts away from the house and sit on my shit-covered, diapered
ass. It's darker here. Now think. I don't remember the locks being
changed, ever. Larry gave some kind of speech when he buried this key.
What was it?
"This key is for emergencies only. Don't just dig it up to look at it. I
don't want anyone knowing there's a key to the house here. If you do need
it, don't just run to the side-door after you pull the brick out, if you
do everyone will know it's a key to the house. It's for the side-door
where the laundry room is. It's a different lock than the front door.
This key works on that lock."
The side-door. The laundry room. Yes! I sprinted and missed falling in
the wet grass a few times. The key slammed into the lock easily and the
door opened without a noise.
"What the Hell!?" some man cried out from somewhere.
I turned to look as I went through the doorway but couldn't see anyone.
My foot missed the concrete block that served as a step and I sprawled
into the laundry room. I came down hard on my chest and lost my wind. I
laid there for a moment trying to breathe but all I could think about is
how I had to close that door. Somebody saw something and whoever it is
isn't going to see anything else, no way. But my body wasn't helping. I
couldn't get up or move my arms. I rolled to my side and kicked at the
door. It slammed shut. Panic and grace are not friends. I pulled myself
to my knees and locked the door.
Ok, I'm inside but I must have woken everyone. I can't help but sit down
and catch my breath. I'm exhausted. I'm so very sleepy. I just sit and
listen. I must be busted. Someone's coming. I listen but hear nothing but
the soft whirr of the fridge, all the way in the kitchen. It's really
quiet now. No one heard the door slam? No one heard me fall? I'm OK? I'm
not burned? I might survive this?
I look around. The laundry room... Mom's sewing shit... SCISSORS! Oh, I'm
getting out of this outfit right now! It's all going to be rags at the
bottom of the trash in a sec. I'm free! I grab the scissors and do a few
experimental cuts in the air. Yes!
First: the rumba panties. I ease the end of the scissors into the
waistband of the panty, right below my navel. I close the blades slowly.
I'm not as eager to get them off as I am blissfully savouring my victory.
I'm actually taking my time cutting through the plastic. The scissors
easily slice through the first quarter inch of material and then stop
hard. I strain my thumb and palm trying to close the scissors, trying to
chop through whatever is in the way. The scissors won't close. What the
hell?! I pull the scissors out to examine the damage. There's a threaded
steel cable in the waistband of the panties. The fucking things are
reinforced.
"FUCK!" I think I actually said that. I cover my mouth and look past the
entrance to the lanudry to the main hall of the house.
I pause silently, listening for any movement in the house. One minute.
Two minutes. Nothing. I pull out the scissors and turn my attention to
the nightie. I'll deal with that cable in a bit. Carefully, I slip the
tip of the scissors into the collar of the nightie. I'm going to hack it
right in two down the front. That will be one problem solved.
But then there's a tapping sound behind me. I go to close the scissors
and destroy my clothes. I stop. THERE'S A TAPPING BEHIND ME? I turn to
see Mr. Owens, my retired neighbour peering through the window in the
door, smiling. He blows me a kiss and I hear the lock click. The doorknob
turns. I drop the scissors and grab the knob but it turns easily in my
hands. I lean on the door. Since I'm on a rug, Mr Owens just pushes the
door open and slides me backwards. I can see the key in the lock. The key
I left in the lock just a few minutes ago.
"Now what kind of adventure is this?" he asks me.
He steps into the laundry room and lightly touches the sleeve of my
nightie. I just push him hard out the door but instead the rug gives out
under me and I fall right onto my rear. The poo squelches again. I've had
enough. Now I'm really caught. I tried so hard. I am so frustrated. I
can't handle this anymore. The tears well up and I start crying.
He looks down at me. Me with my legs spread, my plastic panties exposed,
my diaper soiled, my face full of tears. Mr Owens takes a knee, picks up
the scissors, and holds them away from me. He reaches with his other hand
and traces his fingers over the ruffles of my rumba panties. He pats my
crotch. He waves the scissors in the air.
"Can't have you destroying such pretty clothes. Don't you like *your*
nightie and panties?" he asks with mock sincerity and a look of great
amusement on his face.
"These aren't mine..." I start explaining, but he cuts me off.
"Tut, tut, tut..." he coos, "whosoever they belong to wouldn't want them
anymore. Dontcha think? You've gone and soiled them. I think they're
yours now."
"Please..." I start begging.
"Please? You need my help with something?" he cuts me off again. "Do you
need to be tucked back into bed?" He smiles broadly. "Or do you want to
be changed?"
"No..." I whisper but he cuts me off again.
"You know, I really like this look on you, Juh..." He stopped before he
says my name. "Jerry? No. Juh..." He pauses again.
"Jason," I said to help him.
"No, that won't do. I think we'll call you something else. Look at you."
He paused to stroke my cheek and hold my chin between his thumb and
finger. "I think you look like a Katie. Don't you think you look like a
Katie?"
"No..." I started protesting but he moved his finger to my lips to
silence me.
"Do you dress like this a lot, Katie?" he asked.
I don't like this Katie business at all but he kept his finger on my lips
so I just I shook my head side to side. If I go along with him, maybe
he'll help me out of this outfit.
"Hmmm..." he said, "so you want my help, Katie?"
I nodded and said, "Please."
"Where are your clean diapers, Katie-girl?" he asked.
"They're my sister's diapers. Not mine," I protested. "I just want..." I
started but he pushed his finger against my lips again.
"Don't make too much noise or your mommy might wake up," he whispered.
"You don't want mommy to wake up?" he asked. "Do you!?" He raised his
voice considerably on that last question.
I understood. I was to play along with him or he'd wake my mother and I'd
get into bigger shit. He helped me up and placed the scissors on the
washing machine.
"Let's get you a fresh diaper, missy," he urged me out of the room and
towards the stairs.
"They're in my sister's room," I said defeated. "But it won't matter
because I can't get the panties off."
"Really?" he said excitedly and his voice went up an octave. "You can't?"
"They're locked on. Look in the back. See?" I answered.
He ran his hands over my diapered butt. I could tell he was playing
gently with the ruffles. His fingers finally came to a stop at the
waistband and what I believe is the lock.
"Look at that," he mused, "I think you're right, Katie. Does your mommy
lock you in your panties and only change you in the morning?"
"No, it's not like that," I protested. This stupid baby game was pissing
me off. "I didn't know they would lock on me."
"Then why are you wearing the nightie too? You want to be a baby girl,
right, Katie-baby?" he chided.
I really don't need this shit. I turn to face him.
"I put the dress and diaper on to convince Jenny to do the same. That's
all!" I blurted. "I didn't know they lock in place and now I'm stuck.
Will you please cut this baby game and help me get out of these..." I
hesitated, "clothes?"
He looked disappointed. I was concerned. Is he going to help me? He took
a moment to look me up and down and I felt so used and dirty. I wanted to
hide my body to get away from his eyes. It was creepy. It was wrong. I
decided that he must be a pedophile or something. He's way to emotionally
invested in this. He finally looked me in the eye and started smiling
again.
"I like this baby game and I want it to go on, okay Katie-Baby?" he said
pouting. "If you want me to help you out of this, you're going to play a
little bit, okay Katie-Baby? Or would you rather I just march upstairs
and bang on your parent's bedroom door? Would Katie-baby like that?"
"No don't..." I started but he shushed me with his fingertip again.
"Would Katie-Baby like that?" he asked firmly.
I shook my head side to side. This was out of control. What does he want?
He sighed.
"Say what I want to hear.," he advised. "Would Katie-Baby like that?"
"Please just help me," I begged.
"Nope, that's not what I want to hear. Say it," he persisted.
"I don't want you to wake my parents," I conceded.
"Still not right. I'm going upstairs now," he threatened.
"Please no!" I called after him.
I chased him to the stairs and tugged at his shirtsleeve. He kept
walking. I could stop him but the noise would wake Mom anyway.
"Mr. Owens..." I pleaded. He stopped at the top of the stairs and turned
to me.
"What's your name?" he coaxed, dragging out the the question in a sing-
song tone.
He wants me to say *that*. He wants me to tell him to call me "Katie."
What a sick perverted fuck! I don't want to do it but I have to do it. My
anger drops. Shame covers me like a blanket. I have no control over this
at all. I have no dignity anymore.
"Katie," I answered finally. Tears well up again. Happy now?
"Better," he says. "And does Katie want me to wake up her mommy?"
"No, please." Again I'm begging. I pull on his sleeve in hopes that he
follow me downstairs, away from my mother's bedroom.
"Say it," he says firmly. "Say it like I just did or I will have to raise
my voice."
"Katie-Baby doesn't want you to wake her mommy," I said. *Her* mommy. The
words made me feel sick. I'm a participant now. I'm going along now. I
have just agreed that I am Katie-Baby. That I am a baby girl. I sat down
in the stairs, put my head in my hands and cried quietly. I'm done. This
is too much. You win, you old bastard. We will do whatever you want.
"Very good, little girl," he says happily. "Very good. Now shush and get
up. Where are Katie-Baby's fresh diapers?"
"They're my sister's diapers," I coughed out. "In her room but she's
sleeping. We can't wake her."
He pokes his head into her room and looks over the pink, lime, and cream
decor.
"Looks to me like she's asleep in Katie-Baby's room," he mocks. "Go in
there and get a fresh diaper."
"But..." I stammer. The panties are locked on. You wouldn't be able to
*change* my diaper anyway. Oh my god! Change my diaper. He wants to
change my diaper. Freak! Yes, I still hold the right to call others
freak. Yes I do. Crossdressed, diapered, soiled, and I came in this
outfit too. Do I really have the right to call him "freak"?
He hushes me with a finger and points to the entrance to my sister's
room.
I move slowly into the room but I hear him whisper from the hallway.
"On your knees, Katie!" I could feel his glee. "Crawl on your knees."
Oh what the hell! I drop to my hands and knees and shuffle over to
Jenny's closet. I waste little time opening the bottom drawer and
grabbing a diaper. I push it closed and rush back to Mr. Owens as quietly
as I can. He smiles warmly and takes the diaper from me.
"I'm going to change you," he finally reveals.
I'm ready for this so I just look away and try to find some happy place
in my imagination. This is going to happen if I want it or not.
"Right here!" he adds.
He intends to change my diaper in the hallway. I can see Larry and my
mother in bed, asleep. I can see Jenny with her face in her pillow and
her diapered ass in the air. He wants to change me where any of them can
wake up and see me.
"Please..." I mutter, but the fight's mostly gone.
I sit in front of him and lay back. He doesn't even have to tell me. Just
do it already!
His hands paw at my plastic panties and he quickly finds the cable. His
fingers trace around me to my backside. He finds the lock.
"Katie, lay on your tummy for a bit. Ok baby?" he asks.
I just roll over. Might as well let him get a good look at what I've been
dealing with all night. Maybe he can open this lock. Maybe it will all
end soon. Maybe I'll be free of the diaper and he won't put the pants
back on me. Fuck that! if he gets these pants off me, I'm going to run
and get some clothes on. I'll wake the whole house and tell them he's an
intruder. I'll be OK. Go ahead, old man, get these pants off me. I dare
you!
I spend some time laying there as he pokes at the lock. I hear a click. A
click! It's coming off! Yes! I scamper to all fours quickly and rush to
the bathroom. I don't care about quiet. I don't care about him anymore.
I'm just getting this diaper off. It's going to feel so good! No more
shit around my junk. No more wet diaper all over me. No more fucking pink
ruffles!
I make it to the washroom and lock the door behind me.
There is no greater joy than there was the moment I grasped the waistband
of the rumba panty and pulled it over my hips. It moves. It's not locked
on me anymore. It falls to the ground. I am triumphant! I kick them away,
into the tub. Away from me. They splat as they hit the enamel.
The diaper!!! I claw at the strips holding it on me and it falls to the
ground. It's off! It's off! My penis takes in the fresh air. I can feel
goosebumps all over my crotch and ass. I can feel all that shit clinging
to my skin. I can smell it. It's overwhelming. I gag and stumble a bit. I
jump away from the disgusting mess of a diaper and scurry to the toilet.
The toilet paper roll spins frantically as I scoop up a large wadding of
tissue. I wipe off all the shit I can and throw the waste in the toilet.
I repeat.
I repeat again.
My ass still stinks and I really want to shower but I need to be quiet
until I get out of this nightie. And I can't leave the washroom like
this. I run a bit of water in the sink and prop myself up on the counter,
ass to the porcelain, and start a lather with the hand soap. The warm
soapy water feels so good on my ass. I rinse it off and dry my tender
parts with a handcloth. The stink still lingers because of the nasty
diaper but my ass is pristine!
I'm overjoyed.
How to be subtle about the diaper? A moment ago it was actually on me.
Now I'm grossed out looking at it. I don't want to touch it, it's so
disgusting, but I do. Gingerly. I quickly fold it into itself and tape it
up into a ball. Scanning the room, desperation kicks in again. I'm still
stuck and I still need to leave no trace of anything. Can't flush this.
Can't trash it - stinks too much. They will know. They will all know.
Fuck? How many of them know already? How much do they know? I know I'm
caught but how badly? Oh god.
Ok, the diaper. The window. Fuck it. I toss it out the window. I'll deal
with it tomorrow. Right now, it will be gone. I hear it plop onto the
lawn. It's inside the fence at least. In our backyard. It's Ok.
Final inspection of the room time: Everything looks Ok. Everything except
the rumba panty in the tub. God it's sticky with pee and it smells. I
give it the same treatment I gave my ass. It's plastic, right? It should
be Ok, right? Maybe I should just throw it out the window? Mom will be
looking for it. There will be questions. She'll figure out something.
I'll get in shit. No. I can't throw it out. I'll just clean it and toss
it back into Jenny's room. Easy. So I wash the panty with handsoap, rinse
it in warm water and dry it as best I can with the handtowel.
I'm elated about the diaper being off but it's time to move. I open the
door and peer down the hall. Mom's room is out of sight but I can see the
other three bedrooms and the stairs. Mr. Owens is gone. Figures. I'd run
too if I was a fucking freaky pedophile in someone else's home in the
middle of the night. Oh, I'll get you Mr. Owens. I will get you back!
I slip down the hallway to Jenny's room and toss the panty in under her
bed. Without pause, I skitter into my bedroom and close the door. I need
a lock for this door. So much would be easier if I had a lock on this
damn door. I was safe. I was wearing a little pick nightie but I was
safe. And my dick was free. Free and hard! I'm turned on. I'm so excited
and breathless and... horny? I'm horny? What time is it? I check the
clock... It's only 3:20 in the morning. All this crap with Emma, Dave and
then with Mr. Owens in less than 20 minutes?
I crawl to bed and pull my special sock out from between the mattress and
the bedframe. My penis throbs a bit more in my hand. He gets tucked into
the tube and I go to work rubbing the shaft. I go over the evening: the
hiding and discovering, the twists and the turns. I find myself cumming
while remembering how I told Mr. Owens that my name was Katie.
"Katie..." I whispered as I filled the sock. I was exhausted and fell
asleep.
The alarm woke me at 8:10. I wasn't completely refreshed but I felt
better. Much better. But it's the rustle of the satin that really woke
me. The fucking nightie. It's morning and I still have the nightie on. I
try to pull it over my head but it fits too well around my shoulders and
neck. I stop. I couldn't just pull it off last time. This is futile. But
Emma... she unclasped it easily. And then the bitch did it back up. Oh,
she doesn't like being called bitch but I'm going to have no problem with
calling her that now. What did she do back there?
I start fiddling with the back of the collar when I hear a knock at the
door. I grab the comforter - this is turning into a reflex action. Not
good!
"Don't worry, baby, I won't open the door." It was Mom. "Just checking on
you. You ok?"
"I'm good, Mom. Just getting, uh..." I searched for something that will
keep her out of the room, "dressed."
"Are your clothes ok for today? I'm leaving some clean laundry by your
door," she spoke quickly. "Hurry up for breakfast."
Returning to the collar, I felt the mechanism behind my neck for any way
to pop it open. There was nothing. It stayed firmly closed.
"Five minutes!" Mom yelled from the bottom of the stairs. "Get a move
on!"
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. I'm going to have to wear this to school.
I dash to my dresser, grab a pair of clean boxers and pull them on. I
tuck the nightie into my shorts. I dig through the drawers until I find a
white cotton t-shirt. I pull that down over the nightie. It's not quite
as long but that's OK. Today I'm going to tuck my shirt in. I check the
mirror - the nightie is mostly hidden by the tee. The satin around the
collar shows a bit. I'll be ok when I do up my tie. Digging through my
closet, I find the same school dress shirt I wore yesterday. The tie is,
as usual, knotted around the collar. I pull it over my head, do up the
buttons, and tighten the tie around my neck. It's ok. No one will see the
nightie. I grab yesterday's pants off my chair and find a fresh pair of
socks in my dresser. I'm good to go. No trace of girl's clothing. I'll
survive today.
I'm just wearing a lot of clothes and I can still feel the nightie
against my skin. It's going to be a rough day. Thank god it's Friday.
I open my bedroom door to find the laundry basket my mom promised. On top
of everything are the Fuchsia Rumba panties.
END OF PART FIVE
Alma
- 20.08.2021
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