Sitter Baby (Part 1)

binkieblondeboy

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Diaper Lover, Little
Jasmine, age 9, stood up in her room, holding up a doll figure between her hands, somberly examining its finer detail. She had pale skin, yet to be marked by extensive sun exposure, and long dark hair that reached straight down to her lower back. She wore a long white flowy dress that went down just above her knees. The walls were painted a sort of rose pink, the same color as her bed sheets. A small white dresser sat opposite her bed, garnished with picture frames, make-up accessories and plastic figurines. There was a light navy blue comfy chair tucked in the corner, made for the body of a child.



Her parents were going out for the night to some opera or play or something, meaning that she was going to have to spend the night with a babysitter. Not just any babysitter though...



...Her!



Christine, age 20, a college student studying in some sort of medicine; a real horror of a babysitter. The mere thought of her coming over filled Jasmine with the kind of anxiety that made one's bones quake and muscles tense up with rage. She was never kind to Jasmine, not pleasant, not helpful, not even impassive toward Jasmine as a person, but absolutely malign in every way imaginable.



She yelled at her, commanded her even if she were noticeably sick and frail. She'd lock her in her room if she didn't listen or even if she didn't even know what was being asked of her. Everything Jasmine did wrong, she'd be critical of, even if it was simply asking her for help with her homework which she seldom bothered to aid her with. She had to eat whatever she cooked, even if it was bad or she was ill. She had to do chores that even her parents would never ask her to do like cleaning out the fire place. She'd insult her with names, pick on her insecurities, and threaten her with punishment and a bad report with her parents.



Jasmine hated Christine, despised her as a person, loathed her very existence and wished to see a day in which she'd fall off the face of the Earth never to be seen again. She tried complaining to her parents about the way she treated her, yet they were dismissive of her grievances and would constantly tell her to deal with it since Christine was the only person they could trust, and afford. They didn't care. Jasmine hated everything about her: her face, her voice, the manner in which she spoke at her. And now it was to be yet another night with the witch, the horrid person of her own nightmares who'd leave her exhausted and defeated with every visit.



The doorbell rings.



Here she goes again. Jasmine could hear the faint sound of the door opening and the muffled voices of her parents greeting the visitor. A deep chill suddenly ran down Jasmine's back as though she could feel the evil presence that had besieged her home.



Mom “Alright hunny. We'll be back.”



It begins.

She heard the door shut. Now she was alone. Jasmine stayed in her room, unmoving with her doll in her hands, the only friend she would have to get through the night with. She dared not to leave the confines of her room, being the only relative safe space in the house. She looked out the window, the sun having set long ago. Of course, she doubted Christine ever came out in the day time, that bloodsucker. She knew she would have to face her at some point, yet she kept trying to convince herself that she could spend the whole evening avoiding her, secure in her little room with her doll house, her comfy bed and her new smart phone. Oh how she adored her new phone, her true escape from things if need be. She wondered what her friend Haley was up to. Oh wait, they still weren't talking to each other. Then it was to be an evening with her dolls then.

Christine “Jasmine. Jasmine!”

Nevermind.

Christine “Jasmine!”

Jasmine didn't speak. Instead she trudged slowly to the door, sighing before gaining the nerve to open it. She opened it slowly. Standing down the hall by the head of the stairs was the beast herself, the she-devil anti-Christ of a babysitter. . .

. . .Christine!

(insert thunderous lightning)

She stood with her hands on her hips as soon as she spotted Jasmine standing behind the door. She was obviously taller by about a foot and five inches, though she appeared even taller when looming over Jasmine. Her hair was a really dirty blonde, reaching back to her low shoulder and often concealed by a baseball cap. She was built slightly below medium with a thin stomach and slightly thick thighs. Her arms appeared bone thin yet when the occasion called for it she could pull Jasmine away by the hand with the strength of a bull.

Jasmine “What?”

Christine “Come down stairs. Your parents say you need to do your homework.”

Jasmine “I'm doing it in my room.”

Christine “Or you can do it down stairs that way I can help you while I'm making dinner.”

Jasmine “I don't need help.”

Christine “I don't care. You come down stairs and do your homework like I tell you.”

Christine turned around and walked down stairs. Jasmine squinted her eyes in disdain, almost as if she were trying to make out the devil tail she imagined Christine must obviously be hiding.

. . .

In the kitchen, Jasmine sat before her half completed homework, playing with her doll in the meantime. Christine stood within sight in the adjacent living room, sitting against the edge of the couch texting on her phone. She wasn't looking directly at Jasmine, yet her cold stare felt as though it had never truly let go of her. After a while of texting and griping with her phone, Christine pulled out the back pack she'd brought and pulled out her lap top, taking a seat in one of the comfy chairs and began typing away furiously.

She wasn't paying attention to Jasmine all that much, and that's how she preferred it. Whatever kept Christine off her back the better. Jasmine did much of her homework in relative peace, though an uneasy peace it was. It was the calm before the storm. She honestly didn't even need help this time around as she had become quite proficient in school by this point. It's not like Christine would have helped had she asked anyway. She wanted Jasmine to be in view just in case she needed someone to vent at. She wondered how a person like Christine could have ever been conceived by human parents. Jasmine liked to think she was a lab experiment gone wrong, or evil incarnate. No feeling, no empathy. Just a force of pure terror.

Speak of the devil.

Christine “Alright get ready to clean of the table, I've got to make dinner.”

(more like unfreeze dinner)

Christine “Then I have to do my taxes in here so don't bother me.”

Christine plopped her back pack on the table.

Jasmine “Why can't you do your taxes at your home?”

Christine “Because I'm busy and I need to do them here! And don't question me.”

Jasmine remained seated, standing her doll up on the table and playing with it as Christine pulled out a loaf of bread and container of peanut butter from the cabinet along with packet of pizza rolls from the kitchen freezer.

Christine “Come on, stop playing with your stupid doll and clean off the table.”

Jasmine “Jamie is not stupid. You are.”

Christine “Excuse me! You heard what I said. Get rid of her and get ready for dinner.”

Jasmine packed up her homework papers and headed out of the kitchen. She marched into the living room and put away her school supplies. She got bored and so began messing with her phone as usual. She took a sneaky selfie with Christine in the background with her back turned and then uploaded it online.

Another horrid night with the babysitter from hell #godhelpme

She shuffled her way slowly back to the kitchen with her doll where Christine was cutting up vegetables. Slowly, as though she were approaching a wild beast, Jasmine sneaked up next to Christine.

Jasmine “You hurt Jamie's feelings. Apologize.”

Jasmine didn't really care about her doll's feelings. She just wanted to annoy Christine.

Christine “I don't give a damn about your doll right now Jasmine. Now move.”

Jasmine “I'm telling mom and dad you cussed.”

Christine “I don't care you little brat. If you don't want me to be mad with you then stop bothering me.”

Jasmine “Don't call me that.”

Christine “Jasmine, for the love of god. Will you go away.”

Jasmine “Not until you apologize to Jamie.”

Jasmine held the doll obnoxiously close to Christine's head.

Jasmine “Here. Say you're sorry.”

Christine “Will you get that stupid doll out of here!”

Christine grabbed the doll's head and, in an attempt to take it out of Jasmine's hands, ended up ripping the head off completely. Now, Jasmine was devastated.

Jasmine “Look what you did! You bitch!”

Christine “What did you call me!”

Jasmine knew she was in trouble now. Without a word, she held in her tears and tried to walk away.

Christine “What did you call me!”

Jasmine “A witch!”

Christine “Yeah right.”

Christine set down what she was doing and took the rest of the doll out of Jasmine's hand and tossed it in the trash.

Jasmine “No!”

She then grabbed Jasmine by the wrist (that strength again) and dragged her out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Jasmine “You're hurting my arm!”

Christine “I don't care, you've been behaving like a total brat!”

Christine dragged her all the way to her bed room where she tossed her onto her bed before heading her way toward the door.

Christine “Now I'm going to fix dinner and I don't want to see your ass out of this bed room until I say so!”

Christine slammed the door with such force that the walls shook, causing many of Jasmine's collectibles to fall off the dresser. With her voice muffled in her bed, Jasmine hid her head in her arms and screamed.

Jasmine “I HATE HER! I HATE HER! I HATE HER! I HATE HER! I HATE HER!”

When she finally brought her head up, she wiped the tears off her cheeks, flushed red with anger. Her doll was in the trash, her favorite destroyed by that. . . that bitch.

Eventually she pulled out her go to pacifier, her phone, and began venting her rage online.

I hate my sitter. Such a bitch.

Christine's gonna crush me with her fat ass.

Christine is such a loser. Twenty years old, can't get a job outside of sitting kids.


. . .

After a while she cooled down, laying back on her bed and taking deep breaths. She was just waiting for Christine's crackling voice to echo through the house calling her down to eat. She waited in bed, still trying to keep cool. How dare Christine, the 'adult', break her doll and punish her. She liked that doll. She could fix a broken head she thought to herself. She just needed to get it out of the trash bin. Christine would kill her if she tipped out of her room to get it back. But then again Jasmine was a mature nine-years-old, and innocent. She had a right to go down stairs and retrieve her doll.

Chest beating and palms sweaty, Jasmine sneaked quietly out of her room and crept down the stairs, keeping alert for any sign of Christine the dungeon master. By the kitchen she was still in the clear. Jasmine tip toed over to the trash bin and slowly reached in, pulling our her decapitated doll. The poor thing. The vegetables Christine had been cutting up were just left out on the cutting board and on the table Christine's back pack left unguarded. Maybe Jasmine could steal something of hers and hold it for ransom. Nah, she'll just get herself in trouble with her parents. She needed a better plan of revenge.

Jasmine was quick to turn around and get the hell out of there before trouble came and found her. Just then she was startled by a loud thud out in the back patio. She imagined it was Christine, but what could she be doing? Jasmine, just a little curious, sneaked over to the back door and peered out. There, she saw Christine sitting on the patio table.

She sat hunched over, her head held low between her hands. It was hard to see, but there appeared to be something lit in her hand, a glass of some sort. The flare died and a cloud of smoke suddenly plumed out from her hands and mouth. It took a while for her to realize what Christine was doing, but as soon as Jasmine caught on to what was happening she was overcome with excitement.

Christine was in trouble.

Jasmine felt around and pulled out her phone, hit record and sneakily filmed Christine from behind the door. Another light and another plume of smoke were caught on camera. Jasmine was giddy with excitement. Just when she couldn't expect it to get any better, Christine could be seen pulling out a brown glass bottle and guzzling it down. Perfect! It was the exact turn of fate that Jasmine had been praying for. Christine was in trouble. Jasmine could get rid of her once and for all with this kind of evidence. But no, Christine was too bad to just be dismissed by her parents. No, she needed to be punished. Another hit and another puff of smoke from Christine and Jasmine had what she needed. The only question now was what to do with the evidence.

. . .

Later, Jasmine and Christine sat across from each other eating sandwiches and pizza rolls. Christine sat with her computer open, a check book and pile of receipts by her side. Even across the table, with the aroma of pizza rolls before her, Jasmine can smell the distinct odor emanating from Christine. The odor of guilt.

Christine “Ugh!”

Christine groaned and cursed in obvious frustration. Jasmine, confident that she had the ace up her sleeve, decided to chime in.

Jasmine “What's wrong?”

Christine “Nothing! Just taxes.”

Jasmine “How hard could doing taxes be? It's just adding and multiplying.”

Christine “It's a little more complicated than that. I don't need your help, thank you.”

Jasmine “You don't even make that much. All you do is babysit.”

Christine “I also have school and other expenses to account for. It's a little more difficult than your stupid elementary school math. Damn it!”

Christine slammed down on the table.

Jasmine “I bet I can figure it out. Let me do your taxes. I watch my dad do his.”

Christine “Yeah right.”

Christine got up and paced around in frustration.

Jasmine “Can to. If you have all your earnings and expenses I can calculate it all for you. And fill out the form for you.”

Jasmine was definitely annoying her now, and she liked it.

Christine “Yeah, sure. Like I'd get a freaking nine-year-old to do my taxes for me.”

Jasmine “I bet I can do your taxes better than you can.”

Christine “Yeah. If you can do my taxes I'll have you babysit me from now on.”

It suddenly hit Jasmine like a speeding train. An idea!

Jasmine “Deal! Why don't you take a break and let me do the math for you. And if I can have your taxes filled out properly before you leave. . . I get to babysit you next time.”

Christine was silent for a moment, looking at Jasmine with both disdain and confusion.

Christine “No way. Like I'm going to get audited because a stupid nine-year-old did my taxes wrong.”

Jasmine “I'm not stupid. And don't call me that. I mean it, let me. . .”

Christine “Alright fine! Have it your way. I'm going to lay down on the couch for a minute.”

Jasmine ate her last pizza roll and quickly hopped over to Christine's computer.

Jasmine “See! This is the same tax form my dad uses. I know how to do this.”

Christine “Sure.”

Jasmine “Is this all the financial records you have?”

Christine “Yes. Just don't mess any of it up.”

Christine gradually headed out the kitchen.

Jasmine “It's already a mess.”

Christine “Whatever.”

. . .

Christine's minute on the couch lasted more than a half hour. She may have been asleep. Eventually she got up and groggily made her way into the kitchen, her hair a mess. There she found her check book, receipts, and financial statements all in order and Jasmine typing away at her computer.

Christine “Can you get off my computer now so I can finish doing my taxes.”

Jasmine “I've finished it for you. You had a lot of errors in your math and I think you checked off some things you didn't need. You can check for yourself before you submit it.”

Jasmine got out of the seat and allowed Christine to see for herself. She looked at her computer, baffled by what she was seeing. She spent several minutes looking it over in practical awe. Jasmine looked on with a fiendish grin to her face.

Christine “How? I mean, everything looks correct. Are you. . . Oh no, that's right.”

Jasmine “Is everything good?”

Christine “I guess. Everything looks okay to me.”

Jasmine “Good! So I win the bet.”

Christine “What?”

Jasmine “The bet. Remember you bet me that I couldn't finish your taxes for you and that if I won I got to babysit you from now on.”

Christine “Ha, yeah right. Like I'm going to let the baby babysit me.”

Jasmine “I'm not a baby. I'm nine. You on the other hand will be the one crying like a baby the next time you're over.”

Jasmine held her phone up in sight of Christine.

Christine “What are talking about?”

Jasmine “I caught you on video smoking drugs and drinking outside when you were supposed to be babysitting me.”

Jasmine played the recording of her committing the act right on queue.

Christine “How did you. . . You little brat!”

Christine got out of her seat and stamped over to Jasmine.

Jasmine “Oh I wouldn't be calling me names now. And if you hurt me I'll post this online and show my parents. And what do you think they'll have to say about it.”

Christine “You wouldn't. . .”

Jasmine “Yes I would. Just watch, you'll be out of a job. Once news about you doing drugs and getting drunk while babysitting gets around no one around here will hire you again.”

Christine “Are you serious! I need this babysitting work.”

Jasmine “Shame, if only you were good at it. Don't worry, next time I'll show you how a real babysitter does things when I'm feeding you and changing you.”

Christine “What?”

Jasmine “I thought I could spice things up a bit. So while you were asleep I used your credit card and shopping account to order some stuff we can use next time while I'm babysitting you.”

Christine “You used my credit card! What did you even buy!?”

Jasmine “Oh some essential stuff for babysitting like baby bottles, pacifiers, blankets, baby clothes, bibs, talcum powder and even a pack of adult sized baby diapers, extra large for your fat ass.”

Christine “You can't be serious. I am not letting you babysit me.”

Jasmine “If you don't I'll show my parents what you did. And I'm sure they'll even report you to the police. That kind of drug is still illegal in this state. So which is it?”

Christine stood in silence with an ever growing scowl upon her face.

Jasmine “Well!?”

She gave out a snort and answered.

Christine “Fine. But you have to keep what I did a secret or the deal's off. Got it?”

Jasmine “I got it.”

Jasmine smirked a despicably adorable smile as she twisted around like the little giddy child she was.

Christine “Your parents will be home soon. Don't tell them anything.”

Jasmine “I won't. Just remember, next time. . .

. . .I'm in charge.”
 
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