Sissy's Miserable Ballet Lesson
"You okay, sweetie? No messes in your pants?"
I mewled and writhed in my diaper, making my mommy chuckle. The vivid reddish-purple bruises on my legs served as a reminder of what happened when I refused to wear a diaper to my first ballet class. An agonizing hour spent restrained in my sissy stocks while my mommy rectified my behavior with all her favorite paddles had left me in pain and, most importantly, fully committed to her desires for her little diaper princess. I writhed as the tight pink leggings were pulled up my legs. I whimpered as they "covered the diaper" but the babyish design was still visible, along with the "Failed Potty Training!" declaration. I soon learned that the bright pink leotard revealed them as well, and the fluffy tutu stuck straight out, making it impossible to hide the fact that this little ballerina was wetting herself in a permanently padded diaper.
Mommy tied my hair into a bun and placed a headband with pink mouse ears on me. I blushed as I realized what she was going to do, but had no choice but to mewl and hold still as she applied stage makeup like a little pink mousy mouse. She painted my nose pink and added tiny white whiskers, chuckling as she gazed at my cringeworthy babyish appearance. Layer upon layer of sparkly pink blush made my blushing a permanent feature of my little ballerina mouse appearance for the day. A little pink ribbon with "Mommy's Pet Ballerina!" was pinned to my lapel, and a frilly backpack adorned with a tutu and "Mommy's Charming Fairy" was handed to me. The pointe shoes were slipped onto my shaking legs. Mommy finished with a brilliant red lipstick, then dragged me by the ear to the mirror to take in my ballerina sissy appearance. I mewled again, a middle-aged woman dressed as a little ballerina mouse who simply couldn't make it through a single lesson without wetting herself. I squeaked as I felt my bladder betray me and let out the first drops of pee. Mommy tutted and smiled and declined to change me before we left home.
It was a short drive to the ballet studio, but Mommy opted for a lengthy walk instead. I was to respectfully curtsey and waves with both hands to anyone who acknowledged the little sissy ballerina mouse. Mommy guffawed as she pinched me severely whenever I balked at posing for a photo or didn't immediately respond to questions from pretty girls inquiring about why I was still wearing diapers.
After hours of torture, we eventually reached the studio. Mommy removed my ruined shoes and put on a fresh pair. She informed me that tonight I would be scrubbing the ones I had walked to the studio in and if they didn't appear pristine by morning, then I'd be spending my sissy Sunday in stocks with my face to the wall. I shivered, knowing that I'd likely be up all night scrubbing with my tiny toothbrush.
Miss Heseltine was in her mid-fifties and in remarkable condition from years of dancing. She greeted my mommy with a warm smile and hug, none of which were extended to me. She scoffed and scrutinized me as I curtseyed meekly.
"Not nearly good enough! I can see we'll be adding several hours of nightly curtsey practice to this little sissy's timetable."
"Don't worry, darling," said Mommy. "You can merely complete your tasks afterward. I'll determine your punishment for missing curfew at a later time."
I stamped my tiny slippered foot in impotent frustration. That was so unjust!
I shrieked as Miss Heseltine's cane struck my already bruised thigh. I whimpered as she ordered me to touch my toes and gave me a dozen more. My lesson hadn't even started, and I was already in immense agony as a sissy. Miss Heseltine left me there, bent over with my legs spread and wobbling, while she discussed the lesson plan with my mommy. They both agreed that three long lessons a week would be an adequate start, and two days of scrubbing the studio from top to bottom would be a lovely way to express gratitude for her instruction, as well as the thousands of pounds I'd be paying for each lesson. I flushed crimson, realizing I was being bilked and forced to do menial chores while under the dominance of this frightening new trainer.
Eventually, I was allowed to stop touching my toes, just in time to see mommy leaving, waving at me with my credit cards that she would be enjoying draining while I pirouetted around as a feeble sissy under Miss Heseltine's thumb.
"Why did you wear a diaper to my class, sissy?" she demanded.
"M-m-my mommy insisted I wear one, Miss Heseltine. Whimper whimper."
I mewled as this earned me another harsh blow to both of my bruised thighs. "Incorrect answer!"
"Because I can't control my bladder, Miss Heseltine! Squeak squeak!"
"Disgusting," she spat, although she didn't hit me. It was evident that this confession was what she had been searching for. "By wearing a diaper in my studio, you are disrespecting the art of dance. What do you have to say for yourself, sissy?"
"I'm sorry, Miss Heseltine!"
"Hmph. You will be, wimp. You can write out a thousand times 'I'm a diaper-wetting pervert with a weak bladder that holds no respect for the beautiful art of ballet. I sincerely apologize to the world of dance for being a diaper-dependent failure who disgraces this dancehall with my ridiculous underwear. Oh please please please forgive me, this little sissy mouse. Squeak squeak squeak!" You have five days to finish these. Do you understand, sissy?"
My face fell at the thought of staying up past bedtime for so long, writing these dumb lines. This did not go unnoticed. I endured a dozen more lashes before gratefully thanking Miss Heseltine for my humiliating verses and agreeing to double it to 2000.
"Crying already," said Miss Heseltine, shaking her head. "Not good enough, is it, sissy?"
"No, Miss Heseltine," I said, wobbling through another curtsy. I cried out as she hit me across the shin with the cane.
"Never look away during a curtsy! Another try!"
I curtsied again, ensuring to maintain eye contact as she stared down at me with her cold, terrifying glare. I yelped as she hit my inner thigh, landing directly on another mark for extra pain.
"You didn't dip far enough, pitiful sissy mouse! Another try!"
The lessons seemed to go on forever, with some of the "mistakes" she accused me of being exceptionally unfair (“your curtsey cast a shadow on my face, sissy!”) and the pain intolerable, so my tears could no longer be contained. Unfortunately, this meant that her response was "no crying during a curtsey!" over and over again, making it impossible to learn. After another hour, she finally stopped, shaking her head in disappointment.
"I can see you're even more inept than you appear to be, an achievement I never imagined possible. I'll tell your mommy you'll need five lessons a week," she decreed.
I sobbed and smiled and apologized with another curtsey. I shuddered as she didn't strike me again. Instead, she turned to the door and called out, "Come in!"
Two ballerinas strolled in - a man and a woman, both elegantly dressed for ballet, unlike me and my disgraceful appearance. They had cute fox and wolf ears in their hair, and their faces were clean of the childish mouse makeup. They burst out laughing at how ridiculous I looked. The woman seemed particularly amused by how full my diaper was. I just whimpered and curtsied.
"Sissy, these are two of my best students, Fox and Wolf," said Miss Heseltine delightedly. "I thought they would be ideal for training a pathetic little sissy mouse like you. Come on, help her out, ladies!"
Fox and Wolf looked at me hungrily. I whimpered and felt my diaper leak even more.
I hastily obeyed the orders, striving to suppress my screams due to the soreness of my marked thighs. Wolf and Fox danced around me. They started creeping on all fours and smelling at me, two hunters playing with their prey. If you'd told me they were going to bite me and tear me apart, I would've believed you, I was so fearful and completely oblivious like a naive mouse during that moment. Instead, Wolf grinned at me and lifted his leg. As soon as I comprehended what was coming next, his massive penis popped out of his tights, and he squirted his filthy, stinky pee all over my face. I yelped and coughed as the awful smelling liquid doused me. I cried as I felt Fox making sure I endured a more humiliating sissy bath from behind as well. Eventually, when both of them were done marking me as their territory, my entire body was soaked with pussy pee.
"Curtsey!" commanded Miss Heseltine.
Immediately, I stood up to curtsy and promptly toppled over, landing on my fabric-filled bottom. Wolf and Fox chuckled as Miss Heseltine seized me by the ear, hoisting me up and striking me with the cane, which was much more painful now that I was wet.
One more hour of curtsy practice was even more agonizing now that I had to do it while drenched in smelly piss and constantly sliding in my pool of shame. And it didn't become any easier thanks to Fox and Wolf's continuous laughter at me, filming my pitiful performance, and sometimes barking at me, causing me to jump and ruin a proper curtsy, being penalized with another smack from the cane. Finally, Miss Heseltine declared it was time for a breather and allowed me to kneel down and lap up the pee puddle, while Fox and Wolf enjoyed supplying more. Then, we straightened on to another hour of this torment. Where was my mommy? When would this suffering end for this tiny mouse? I would soon discover that the answers to those questions would result in even more sissy ballerina anguish for this little rodent. Whimpers meowed!
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