As he stood on shaky legs, looking down the low cut striped top she was wearing, he was also acutely aware of the damp wet patch in the front of his pants, the very reason she had called him over.
"Frances? Is there something you want to tell me?" she asked him.
Frances shook his head no but her pretty blue eyes bored into his own, riveting him to his spot.
"Frances, did you wet your pants?" she asked him directly.
Frances' lower lip shook, and he struggled to think of a suitable reply.
"I-I had a little accident--that's all," he whimpered.
"What did your mommy say was going to happen if you started wetting your pants during the daytime?"
Frances blushed hotly at he visualized the scene that took place nightly in his house.
Before his bedtime, his mom or babysitter would come in and get him ready, pulling down his pants and underwear, and sitting him on the edge of the bed where he would then be powdered and pinned into a nice, thick, thirsty set of diapers, followed by snug plastic panties. He knew how badly he needed them because he rarely woke up without soaking them sometime during the night.
His babysitter also insisted he wear them during his naps, and she often "forgot" to remove them afterwards. This had resulted in numerous occasions in which visitors had inadvertently discovered the young boy in his diapered condition, causing him great embarrassment.
"Frances--what did your mommy say was going to happen if you wet your pants during the daytime?" she repeated.
"She-she said I'd hafta wear diapers all the time," he confessed in practically a whisper.
"That's right. And now it looks like its time we got Mommy's little boy changed, isn't it?"
Frances blushed again and bit his lip. He saw his last strand of maturity about to be broken before his eyes and he struggled to think of some way to resist it.
"B-but, it was just a little accident," he pleaded desperately.
Without a word, his babysitter reached over and unbuttoned his pants, lowering them down his thighs and past his knees. Now his wet underpants were all the more obvious, the stain covering the entire front of the Superman character and beyond.
"Oh no, Frances. You obviously need diapers during the daytime too. Maybe the embarrassment of being seen in them all the time will cause you to grow up and start acting like a young man."
Frances felt an uncontrollable tantrum coming on. The never ending shame that was about to be his daily routine was just too much for him to accept.
"No! No! No!" he cried angrily, shaking his fists in fury at his buxom babysitter.
With plenty of experience in dealing with spoiled brats, she snatched his flailing wrist and yanked him over her firm lap.
"Looks like this little boy has just earned himself a sound spanking," she informed him as she peeled his wet underwear down and exposed his round, youthful bare bottom.
"Let me go! Let me go!" he wailed as he kicked and fought against her.
Taking a strong grip of his waist, she reached into her purse and grabbed her flat backed hairbrush, a necessary tool for any competent babysitter.
Frances' whining had reached a full pitch when she brought the hairbrush down like a thunderclap on his defenseless fanny. His soft buns absorbed the impact of the hard oak and bounced back, as if ready and eager for another. However, a bright red pattern had already formed and Frances wailed like a banshee from the painful, biting sting.
Again and again, she smacked his bottom repeatedly, turning his pale, tender globes into a bright pair of cherry-red cheeks.
Sobbing and crying, Frances bawled and took his spanking, unable to do otherwise. Had he been an observer, instead of a participant, he might have appreciated the way his babysitter's big, full breasts shook and jiggled every time she slapped his bottom with her hairbrush. As it was, Frances could see very little through the tears that were filling his eyes and streaming down his face. All he wanted was for this terrible punishment to end.
At last, she put her hairbrush aside and she lifted Frances back up into a standing position. His chest heaved with heavy sobs as he gazed back at his pretty but implacable babysitter.
"Are you ready to get changed now, Frances?" she asked him again.
He nodded tearfully, as he swiped the sleeve of his arm across his wet, tear-stained face.
His babysitter took him in her arms and hugged him close, patting the sobbing boy on his back as she consoled him.
"There, there, Frances...some little boys just never outgrow the need for diapers and plastic panties. But I'll make sure you always have the softest, most comfy diapers to wear and wet, all the time."
Frances rested his head on the silky skin of her big bosom and watched his tears trickle down her deep cleavage, to disappear between the large cups of her bra.
"And I have a few ideas for outfits that I think will look super cute on you, just you wait and see!"
