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Babysitter Part 3
🕑 Added 2025-05-09 14:27:31 +0000 UTCCarey sized me up with a smile and said, “Wow, you look really great.” “Have a look in the mirror.” Once again I took in her size and strength, feeling equal parts intimidated and secure in her presence.
I turned away from her and looked at myself in the mirror once again. She was right: I really did look good. From a distance, I would definitely be taken for a girl. My legs were slender and soft, my shoulders narrow, and even my facial features, never all that masculine to begin with, had taken on a feminine appearance under the wig. I really did look convincing… I was thinking about all of this and checking myself out in the mirror when I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, that Carey was doing something.
I turned to her to look and was mortified to see that she had her phone in her hand and had taken a few pictures.
“Hey! Stop!!” I shouted, moving towards her and putting my hand up towards the phone.
I reached towards the phone but she raised it up above me where I couldn’t reach and saw that she was taking a video.
“Why do you want me to stop? Come on, you look so great.”
I reached up and feebly tried to grab the phone but she was so much taller than me that I couldn’t reach at all. The whole situation was immediately humiliating as I realized how she now had footage of me dressed as a schoolgirl. I felt weak and desperate, trying to get the phone even though it was clearly beyond my grasp.
“Oh, she can’t reach,” she said with a wicked, mocking laugh.
I felt ridiculous, trying to reach up to grab the phone, straining my body upwards, my thin arms reaching and grabbing her larger forearms but not being able to budge them at all.
“Please…” I said in desperation but to no avail.
She held the phone in one hand, capturing my futile struggle, and then placed her other larger, firm hand on my chest and pushed me away. I fell backwards, onto the bed, my schoolgirl skirt flying up slightly, revealing my white panties in the process.
I looked up at her with pleading eyes, “Please, don’t.”
She looked down at me, standing over 6’ tall and looking like a tower of feminine strength in her Chun Li outfit. With her hair tied in buns and the structure of her outfit she looked intimadting and domineering. Her face was a mixture of kindness and severity, although I could see her sympathy returning.
“Oh come on, Princess Serenity. Just say hi to the camera.”
“Princess… what?” I asked with confusion.
“That’s Sailor Moon’s real name. Her real identity. Come on, just say hi, I’m Princess Serenity.”
I looked at her and said “I…”
She arched her eyebrow, “Once you say it, I’ll stop filming.”
I sighed, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. I swallowed and looked into the camera.
“Hi, I’m Princess Serenity,” I said in surrender.
She smiled at me and turned off the recording
“What the hell, Carey?!? I didn’t want you to do that!”
“Oh come on, don’t be a baby about it. It’s just a funny little video. Besides, this is just a little insurance to make sure you follow through on your promise.”
“But I don’t like having that video out there.”
She crossed over the room and sat down on the bed next to me. I had never seen her in a dress like this before: she was colossal in her costume – her legs looked thick and strong and I felt the bed sway heavily when she sat down. Her movements on the bed rocked my body back and forth so that I really did feel like a child next to a larger adult, having to continually remind myself that she was larger.
She smiled down at me, bearing down on me with an intense gaze: “It won’t be out there. It’ll just be our little secret. So long as you’re good… princess.”
There was something mischievous in the way she let ‘Princess’ hang in the air but I was too scared to ask what she meant.
I tried to switch the topic, “Please, can I get changed now?”
“First, I want to try a little bit of makeup on you. To practice for the big day.”
My heart was pounding… “No, please.”
“Princess, don’t argue with me. No one will know and we won’t have time to get it right before we actually go to the event.”
She stood up, shaking the bed in the process. “Come.”
It was an order, not a suggestion and I quietly, submissively, stood up and walked after her. She led and I followed and there was a part of me that felt like that was OK. My eyes traced her back and the sheer width of her made my heart flutter. I looked at the size of her back as I followed her into the washroom and was amazed at her size. It was hard to believe that she was younger than me by almost two years.
We stepped into the bathroom and she pulled out a case of makeup.
“Please Carey… I don’t want to.”
But she just smiled at me and said, “If you’re going to be a convincing Sailor Moon, you’re going to need to look a little more girlish. Now, hop up on the bench and I’ll do your make up. It won’t take me long.”
I looked up at her with pleading eyes – how had I shifted into asking her permission so easily – but she didn’t budget. Her face said that she expected my compliance so after a second I did as she instructed, angling my butt against the counter and then pushing my body onto the ledge. My legs swung in the air, making me feel even smaller, controlled, and diminutive.
She pulled out some light foundation and applied it, followed by blush. I looked up at her as she worked on my features: her concentration was total and there was intense focus in her looks. Her black eyebrows were arched and she was looking at my appearance closely and carefully. She loomed over me, looking statuesque in front of me and had to bend down to apply the makeup. I felt like clay in her hands, being reshaped and remolded by this young woman.
My eyes shifted from her neck to her wide shoulders to her thick legs and I felt like so small next to her. Her calf muscles flexed ever so slightly in the boots and I realized the strength that lay dormant in her large body. I was sweating… My heart was beating intensely as I felt the powder being pressed against my cheeks. I felt humiliated but also, secure and safe in her care. Despite everything that felt wrong about the situation, there was part of me that wanted to curl up at her feet, to succumb to this growing feeling of being taken care of, being controlled, being owned.
“Close your eyes sweetie,” she said in a quiet voice and I silently did as she asked. I felt her applying the mascara to my eyes.
Then a few seconds later, “Pout your lips, sweetie.” And I quietly did as she asked. I felt the lipstick pressing against my lips. It felt invasive, the tube being pressed hard against my pink opening. She ran it slowly across my lips once, twice, and a third time.
“OK, Princess, you’re ready. Open your eyes and take a look.”
I opened my eyes and looked up at her. It was like she had matured beyond her years, or had I regressed in some way? In this short period of time, I had become her dependant, the smaller weaker one.
I slid off the counter, feeling even smaller next to her amazonian proportions. In her boots I barely reached her chin. I turned around and surveyed myself in the mirror.
It was undeniable: I was a girl. An attractive girl at that. The combination of makeup, the wig, the outfit… The mascara gave my eye lashes a feminine look and the blush was subtle but added subtle feminine allure to my rosy cheeks. The lipstick was a subtle red and suggested both a feminine innocence and a sluttiness underneath the surface. It was incredible. I looked like a girl.
“Wow, you look so good, sweetie!”
“I… I…” I was speechless.
“What do you think?”
“It’s … I look…”
“You are such a convincing Princess.” She said, as she smiled down at me.
We looked like a complete opposite pair: she was a towering image of female strength, a strength made all the more apparent by the weak, feminine figure next to her… me. She looked stronger, older, more of an adult than I was. I could see the difference in our legs and arms – hers were long and thick while mine were small and weak. I felt positively humiliated.
“I can’t go out like this…” I said weakly but she had predicted my resistance.
“Oh, no backing out Princess. Come on. You look totally convincing and besides,” she pulled out her phone, “don’t forget I have this insurance policy.”
I looked up at her again with pleading eyes, “Please, Carey. Please don’t make me.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and I felt my stomach drop slightly like I was in trouble. “Listen, I’ve told you that you’re going out as my Sailor Moon and you’re doing it. You don’t have any say in the matter. OK, Princess?”
I was silent.
“I said, OK, Princess?”
I was beaten, “OK.”
She smiled and I could see a thought developing as she surveyed me again. “Come on, get into the role I’d like you to say, OK Ms. Carey…” she paused for a second and then continued, “and curtsey.”
“Really!!?”
“Yes, really.”
I couldn’t resist any longer, “OK, Ms. Carey” and I did my best, shame-laced curtsey.
She smiled again and took a second to size me up.
“I know you can learn to be a good Princess, or even my little sister. Would you like that?”
“I don’t…”
She put a hand under my chin and raised it to look at her. “Do you think I’m really asking Princess?”
I understood, “I’d like to be a good little sister, Ms. Carey.”
She beamed into a smile, “Good girl.”
She was clearly revelling in the power she had over me and wanted to rub it in: “You see, you might be a boy, an older boy, but we can pretend a little bit and you can be my sweet little sister. I’ll take care of you and teach you so much. Does that sound good, Princess?”
“Yes, Ms. Carey.”
“Good girl.” She released my chin but I continued looking up into her dark eyes.
“Genetics don’t lie sweetie. I’m a year and a half younger than you, but much taller, and look… It’s been a few days and you’re dressing like a good little sister at my direction so I’m clearly much better at asserting myself. So it’s best that you follow my instructions. Right, Princess?”
My stomach turned with anxiety but I knew she was right, “Yes, Ms. Carey.”
“You’re such a quick learner. Good girl.”
“But… I can’t stay like this Ms. Carey.”
“Oh, I know sweetie. This will just be our little secret for when it’s the two of us. And it’ll stay our secret so long as you’re a good Princess.”
She continued, “Now, why don’t we play some video games? Does that sound good?”
Such relief – “Yes, please!”
“Yes, please, what?”
“Yes, please, Ms. Carey. … I’ll just get changed.”
“Oh no, sweetie, no need to get changed. Come on, you can play as little sister.”
I silently acquiesced and we moved over to the gaming console. We sat on the carpet together and try as I might, she kept beating me. I don’t know if it was the clothing, the feeling of humiliation, or my sense of submission but I couldn’t play the game as well as once did. Where I would normally be upset and annoyed at losing it felt… OK. Sitting next to her, seeing her thick thighs extending out on the carpet alongside my slender legs tucked under my skirt, I felt like I should defer to her. She loomed so large in my mind, so much bigger and more assertive. I felt like I was naturally sliding into the beta role, or had been pushed into it by her. She won the round 5-0 in no time. It felt right for her to beat me.
She looked over at me with a comforting smile, “That’s OK. Maybe this just isn’t your game.”
I looked up at her and she smiled again. “Tomorrow, we’re going to ComicCon and I’ll expect you to be in your Princess costume. OK?”
“Yes, Ms. Carey.”
“Now do you want to get changed back into your boy clothes.”
“Yes, Ms. Carey.”
“Then just ask, Princess.”
“Please, Ms. Carey, may I get changed into my boy clothes?”
“Yes, Princess.”
