Run upstairs and act like nothing happened.

You bounce up like a bunny rabbit and bolt upstairs as swiftly and silently as you can. You don't have a second to spare to look back and see if you were spotted, but you don't hear any footsteps or shouts follow you up the stairs or into your room. You close the door quietly and dive into your closet to change out of your soiled shorts. You hear the unmistakable sound of your father's heavy footsteps approaching and only have time to throw on a pair of old sweats before you hear the even heavier knocks.

BOOM BOOOOM BOOOOOM

You yelp and make your way to the door, noticing with a wince that these fit a little tighter than when you got them, highlighting another feature that favors your mother...your ample ass. You look helplessly back to the closet, hoping for just a few more seconds to change, but your father's booming voice bellows, david Open this door!"

You scurry over and fling the door open, trying to look casual and hoping your dad doesn't notice you're out of breath and blushing. As usual, he barely notices you and dismissively announces, "Took you long enough. Wanda is going to be your baby-er caregiver for the evening. Before you start in again, I know your age as I just about bankrupted myself for your birthday party, but I also know that the last time I left you home alone overnight you ended up in the hospital getting your stomach pumped and I ended up paying a fortune in house repairs. So let's smile and be polite and remember Wanda has my cell number."

You follow your dad downstairs wishing he referred to you as his 'innocent angel' to your face and not just when he's fucking your bimboi babysitter behind your back. You suppose he has a right not to trust you after you held a 300 plus dionysian orgy and got so drunk trying to work up the nerve to leave your room that you ended up in the ER, but you would argue you learned a lot from the experience and have grown a lot in the following three weeks. Regardless, you know better than to argue when it will just come down to his house, his rules, so you keep your mouth shut and a plastic smile plastered on your face and try to pretend that you can't smell your dad's dick all over her. "Hi...Becca is it? I'm Aaron. I'm sure we'll have 'fun' together."

You give her a suspicious glare, looking for any hint of her snitching on your peeping to your pops. Wanda looks ironically innocent as she extends her hand and smiles, but not with her eyes, saying, "Meeeeee toooooo! I'm sure we will have a blast without getting into too much trouble." She shoots your dad a cheesy, conspiratorial wink as if the worst she has planned is letting you stay up past your bed time to watch a PG-13 movie then she sneaks a sultry, seductive wink at you like she plans something more XXX rated and hands on with you. From the strength of her grip as she squeezes your hand, you get the feeling she could do a lot with her hands and you don't know if you would be able to stop her...or want to.

You aren't sure which has you more worried. If she is as depraved as your dirty mind has imagined, you aren't sure you'll survive the night with your manhood intact, but with your luck she has a nervous tic and any advances will be unwanted, unrequited, and end with you grounded until you are thirty. You have gotten the not so subtle hint that tonight is a test of sorts to see if you can be trusted on your own ever again, or if you end up a house pet in your own home. As always, not content to leave even the most obvious statement unsaid, your dad says, "Let's keep it to no trouble at all. If Aaron can behave with supervision, maybe he can learn to do it without. If not, well there are less pleasant babysitters I could hire...and a lot less pretty."

You nod and smile sufficiently sincerely for your father's approval and Wanda practically beams as she waves him goodbye. When his beamer backs out of the driveway, and he heads down the street out of sight, Wanda slinks behind you and presses her bimbulge between your cheeks and squeezes the thiccness barely contained by your too-small sweats. You yelp and she giggles, "Hee hee. Did you wear these sexy pants for me or do you always dress like a slut?"

You turn on your heels, enraged and engorged and ready to tell her off, but she's already bored and heading to the kitchen, giving you a painful peek of her alluring ass as she sways seductively. You follow obediently, her intimidating aura and apple bottom ass more than command enough. You watch transfixed as she raids your fridge, bending over and arching her bewitching buttocks allowing a glimpse of the soft supple curves of her cheeks and a titillating tease of her thong. You ache, already hard again and struggling to hide your modest manhood in your too tight tights. She pulls out enough food for a feast and starts tearing into it with an appetite that's equal parts alarming and arousing. As if making casual conversation, she chirps between chews, "So you some SMACK kind of peeping pervert? Did you CHOMP cum in your panties watching GLOMMP me? Or were you drooling over your Daddy's dick?"

You turn beet red and feel the floor drop out from you as you try to think of an answer that won't make you sound like some kind of closet case sissy or daddy's boi bitch. It doesn't help that you don't know the answer yourself, not with all your fears and fantasies being so interminably interchangeable. Without any answer seeming wise, you resort to your tried and true tactic, smug snobbish sanctimony. "How dare you talk to me like that?! You're the help! I could have my father buy you as a pet or put you on the street for fun"

Wanda cocks her head slightly and looks at you like she's trying to figure out what a sassy kitten is trying to tell her by acting out. She settles on shrugging, saying, "Have it your way, lil' buddy. I thought you might actually be cool and we could have the kind of fun we wouldn't be able to tell your Daddy about, but if you are gonna act like a prude, I'll be professional and treat you like the lil' tyke you are acting like." She looks equally unmoved by both options, and it's her dismissive disinterest that angers you more than her demeaning condescension.

You open your mouth to add on to your earlier threat, when she reaches from under the counter and brings out a huge, steel spiked leather paddle and SLAMS it down on the table. Your mouth still hangs open, but no words come out as Wanda lays down the law. "I was trying to make this fun for you, but I don't put up with threats. So we'll make this easy for a spoiled brat like you to understand. You can apologize extra sweet with your cherry on top and I can teach you what being a bad bimboi is all about, you can be a good lil' boi and I'll make you tendies and let you watch cartoons and tell you a story before I tuck you in, or..." THWACK the paddle crashed down on the counter and you flinch. "Or you can keep acting like a brat and I can spank the naughtiness out of you."

You don't know what to say. You've never felt more incensed or terrified or turned on. With no time to think, you're next answer will determine everything...