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After seven hours of waving them around like a pansy little fairy, my wrists were in agony. So much so that I openly sobbed as I picked up the pen and wrote out ”I’m a diaper-wetting pervert with a pansy bladder that doesn’t respect the fine art of ballet. I’d like to sincerely apologise to the medium of dance for being a nappy-needing loser who is disgracing this dancehall with her ridiculous pissy underwear. Oh please please please forgive this little sissy mouse. Squeak squeak squeak!’

One line down. 1999 to go.

I squirmed uncomfortably at my little desk, clearly designed for a child, that I’d been forced to squeeze my legs under. My little chair was covered in rubber spikes, just to add to my misery, managing to poke me sharply even through my full diaper. I sobbed and started my second line. ‘I’m a diaper-wetting pervert with a pansy bladder that doesn’t respect the fine art of ballet. I’d like to sincerely apologise to the medium of dance for being a nappy-needing loser who is disgracing this dancehall with her ridiculous pissy underwear. Oh please please please forgive this little sis-“

“SISSY! Come here!” demanded Miss Heseltine.

I squealed, then sobbed as I drove the pen right through my line and the previous one. So those would both have to be restarted. With that happy thought in mind, I squeezed out from my stupid desk and pranced on my little ballet slippered toes over to Miss Heseltine.

“That disgusting diaper of yours is full. You shall change out of it immediately.”

“Y-yes Miss Heseltine. Squeak squeak!” I said, turning to head to the changing rooms.

SMACK!

I screamed as her cane got me across the thighs.

“I said immediately you stupid sissy! Sissies like you don’t need privacy – you wanted to be a horrible exhibitionist little pervert, didn’t you? Now strip you pansy.”

Blushing beet red I delicately took off my sweaty stinky pissy costume, rolled down my tights, then removed my soaked diaper. I put my hands in front osmancık escort of my crotch, earning me another smack from the cane and a command that I stick them on my head. I did as I was told, of course, as Miss Heseltine smirked at my tiny penis.

“Put your outfit back on. We’ll see how long you can last without a diaper.”

“Y-yes Miss Heseltine. Squeak squeak!” Was she starting to ease up on me? Give me a little dignity back?

A knock at the door soon put a stop to that theory.

“Come in!” said Miss Heseltine, as I hurriedly put my outfit back on. I managed to, just in time, which meant I ‘only’ suffered the humiliation of being dressed as a bright pink sissy mouse with ‘LOSER’ written across their forehead as twenty beautiful ballerinas in their mid-twenties walked into the studio. They all burst into fits of laughter when they saw me.

“Oh my God!”

“What the actual fuck?”

“Ewww, look how wet its outfit is!”

“I think they look adorable.”

“I think they’re trying to make a statement!”

“Why does it need ‘loser’ scrawled across its sissy face? That’s loud and clear already loser!”

“Oh my gosh, I HAVE to take a photo for my boyfriend. He’ll laugh so hard.”

“That’s gotta be the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Is that a used diaper on the floor? You don’t think…. Oh ewwwww!”

“Sissy, this is my best class,” said Miss Heseltine as I whimpered and blushed and wished I was anywhere but here. “You wasted so much time forcing me to discipline you that you have now interrupted their class.”

“I’m s-sorry, Miss Heseltine. Squeak squeak!”

My pathetic squeaking earned me more cruel laughter from the girls. I whimpered as I saw them taking photos and videos.

“Why are you apologising to me, you stupid sissy?” said Miss Heseltine. “You shall apologise to each of the girls one by one. Girls, if you see fit to give the sissy a kick in the balls for interrupting your lesson, then you may give osmangazi escort it as many as you think is fair.”

The girls all looked at each other excitedly. I held back another sob and pranced up to the nearest one, a pretty redhead who couldn’t stop giggling at me.

“Sissy mouse is so sorry for interrupting your lesson,” I said, my cheeks burning red. “Squeak squeak.”

“Awww, that’s OK loser! We all make mistakes. Like, for example, all your life choices so far!”

Everyone laughed as I just stared at the floor in shame.

“Seriously, could you be any more pathetic?” she asked sweetly. “Spread your sissy legs now, there’s a good loser.”

I whimpered and did as I was told. I squealed as she kicked me hard in my little sissy balls. Tears in my eyes, I said “thank you so much! Squeak squeak!”

Then it was time to prance to the next girl. It was a torturous half hour of ritually humiliating myself and getting my crotch kicked. One girl seemed to love the workout, kicking me over and over and only stopping because another was jealous that it was her turn. By the time I’d apologised to all the girls I was in sissy agony, limping up to the final one. She took pity on me and patted me on the head, smiling as she adjusted my mouse ears. Her kindness didn’t mean she didn’t also want to discipline me, however, and so I got another dozen hard kicks in the crotch to enjoy.

“Sissy, you will go back to your corner and work on your lines,” demanded Miss Heseltine.

“Yes Miss Heseltine! Squeak squeak!” I was almost looking forward to 2000 horrible lines after this torture.

“Hang on a second,” said the pretty redhead. “Doesn’t the loser need a fresh nappy?”

Cruel laughter echoed off the walls. Several of the girls caught my eye and made ‘L’s with their thumbs and fingers at me.

“The sissy mouse is going to prove it doesn’t need pathetic baby underwear,” said Miss Heseltine. “Isn’t that right si-“

Miss Heseltine stared osmaniye escort down at me in horror. The girls seemed confused until they took a look and gasped. I’d lost control of my bladder the moment the girl had said ‘nappy’. I couldn’t stop myself from wetting my outfit in front of everyone.

“Holy shit!”

“That’s so pathetic!”

“What a disgusting little freak.”

“Literally a child has more control than them.”

“How DARE you?” roared Miss Heseltine, grabbing me by the ear and pulling me over her lap. I squealed and squeaked as she tugged my leotard up my ass crack and started spanking me over and over with her hand. Oh, how did it hurt this bad? Her hand was as cruel as any whip, and soon all I could hear was loud smacks, the laughter of the ballerinas, and the sounds of photos being taken of my fresh punishment. I bawled and kicked my legs to no avail as the horrible spanking went on and on and on. Finally it was over. I was in floods of tears as Miss Heseltine forced me to the floor, then put me in a fresh nappy (with “I can’t control my pee pee!” across the front) which she put on me OVER my costume.

“Clearly you’re too much of a loser to have earnt the right to wear a nappy under your clothes,” explained Miss Heseltine as the girls laughed and wolf-whistled. “Now go to your desk and write your lines NOW!”

I curtsied, thanked her, squeak-squeaked, then pranced off to pansy corner to write my lines.

‘I’m a diaper-wetting pervert with a pansy bladder that doesn’t respect the fine art of ballet. I’d like to sincerely apologise to the medium of dance for being a nappy-needing loser who is disgracing this dancehall with her ridiculous pissy underwear. Oh please please please forgive this little sissy mouse. Squeak squeak squeak!’

One down. Again. And the drudgery of this stupid, boring task was already sinking in. A horrible boring assignment that would benefit absolutely no one. Perfect for a stinky sissy ballerina like me. I looked up to see the girls doing their ballet routines, showing dignity and grace that I had chosen to throw away forever. Several smiled and waved. Others held their noses. All of them laughed at this pathetic sissy loser, one who deserved everything they had coming to them. Squeak squeak squeak!

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