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Miss Helena’s Ballet Academy for Immature Mothers - Updated
🕑 Added 2023-04-28 20:22:58 +0000 UTCIt was a hot summer morning when Helena arrived at her ballet academy.
She worked hard the entire year to market her brand-new little girls’ division. Her method was new and innovative and would take those little girls to become the best ballet dancers in the world. But, as the day of the grand opening drew closer, she discovered one simple truth about living in a first-world country.
People, especially mothers, can be assholes.
Classes hadn’t even begun, and she already had dozens of complaints of preoccupied mothers with nothing better to do with their lives than micromanaging their daughters. Not to mention the helicopter trend everyone in America eagerly jumped into. She couldn’t believe she was missing the days of hard work in Belarus.
But it didn’t matter. It was the first day, and she was going to enjoy it. No matter how difficult parents could be, she knew she had it in her to deal with the mothers. She had even gone as far as to use makeup that morning. Not as if she needed it. The twenty-six-year-old’s fair skin was impeccable. Her body was something to marvel at. Her fashion sense was beyond what most people in America could even comprehend. And all of it combined with her methodic and pragmatic mind.
Nah, few things were out of her control, and if parents thought they could come and press her into giving their daughter special treatment, they had something else coming.
She opened the door to the academy.
The place had cost her a lot of money, but it was worth it. Her husband was willing to invest, and she had proven resourceful. Beautiful as she was, her mind and dominant personality actually got Robert to marry her. She knew that. And she knew that whatever she decided to do with her life, she would succeed.
“Good morning, Miss Helena,” said her assistant.
“Morning, Greta.”
Greta was an older woman, around forty-five. Very husky and stern. She dressed the part and intimidated the shit out of most people that met her. However, Helena found her presence comforting. Greta reminded her of her old ballet teacher. The one that had turned her from a scared little girl into the woman she was now.
“Are you ready for the kids?”
Greta nodded.
“I will need your help, uhm, dealing with the parents. They can be, uhm, a little out of touch with reality.”
Greta nodded again, “I’ve got just the thing to deal with immature girls.”
“Perfect,” said Helena, “Then let’s begin the day.”
Chapter One
Marissa couldn’t believe how bad traffic was that morning.
She left an hour earlier ‘cause she knew that taking Camille to her ballet lessons was important for the girl. Her husband was not going to do it, and even if she had an important meeting that morning, Camille was her life. Her own mother never took her to any type of lesson, not even to school.
Marissa was not going to be like her mother.
Camille looked so much like Marissa herself. The girl had the same perfect eyebrows and hazel eyes. Although, obviously, Marissa was taller and with massive breasts, even for someone with a kid. Still, she kept herself in shape. Some would call her a MILF. She would call herself a sexy and powerful woman.
“Mom, it’s already started.”
“It’s okay, darling. We’ll be there in no time.”
Camille nodded.
Marissa speeded up so much that she didn’t notice the biker next to her, which crashed against her driver’s mirror, ripping it off immediately.
“You mother fucker,” she shouted, lowering the window, “I’m going to fucking sue you into oblivion. You dumb cunt.”
“Mommy,” said Camille, “We are not supposed to say bad words.”
Marissa turned to see her daughter.
“Darling, let Mommy deal with this.”
“But my classes.”
Marissa breathed in slowly, as her therapist had told her to do.
They were just two blocks away now, and there was no point in filling the biker that had disappeared already. Her car had a built-in camera specifically for this type of situation, so she would just have to deal with the insurance company.
“Alright, let’s get you there,” said Marissa, kissing her daughter’s forehead.
Camille nodded.
She drove straight to the academy, thinking she would take a long sabbatical one day. No more responsibilities. No more driving. No more anger management therapy sessions. Just her, a mimosa, and some massages.
When they arrived at the academy, classes were already on their way.
Marissa knocked at the door of the room where Miss Helena was teaching. The tall woman with beautiful blonde hair and a physique that made her feel ashamed of her own turned to face her. A cold glare that would’ve fulminated anyone. But Marissa wasn’t anyone. She was the regional manager of one of the most respectable companies in the country. She had a two-hundred-dollar salad the night before, and there was no way she would lose against a Slav bitch.
She knocked again.
“Mommy, it’s okay. We are late. We can come back tomorrow.”
“I didn’t come all the way here just to have that pretentious Russian asshole send us away.”
She knocked again.
But it wasn’t the ballet teacher that opened the door. Instead, it was a very rough-looking woman with a clear German background. Strong and menacing didn’t begin to describe her presence.
“No lateness in ballet,” she said with a clear foreign accent.
“Excuse me?” Asked Marissa.
“No lateness in ballet. No punctuality, no classes. Now get out. You blocking door.”
“Who the fuck do you think you are? I’m paying for these classes, and I don’t like your tone, you old cow.”
Camille grabbed her mommy’s hand, pulling it away.
“Not now, sweetie. Mommy is talking.”
Greta got closer until the mother was now face to face with the teacher’s assistant. The tension could be felt in the cold air around the two of them, but before either could say anything else, Miss Helena herself stepped out.
“What’s going on?” Asked Helena with another clear foreign accent.
“This woman is being very disrespectful,” said Marissa.
Helena scanned the mother and turned immediately to smile at the little girl beside her, “Hello, sweetie. Would you like to join us?”
Camille nodded.
“Greta, would you please take the lady to the waiting area? I’d like to have a little chat with her after classes.”
“I can’t stay. I have things to do,” said Marissa, holding her phone in one hand as it rang, “An important meeting.”
Helena grabbed the phone.
Marissa was shocked.
“Look, Misses…Not important. I’m allowing your daughter in my classes even when she broke the rules. But if you want to leave with your daughter, never to return to my academy again, I see no problem.”
Marissa felt a chill traveling through her spine. The tall teacher, though almost ten years younger than her, was towering over her personal space and glaring at her, like Marissa’s own mother had done when she was a kid. She could choose to leave. But the disappointment in Camille’s eyes made her reconsider.
“Give me my phone back, and I’ll wait,” said Marissa, not wanting to cause a further scene.
“No phones allowed. Rules,” said Helena, giving Marissa’s phone to her strict and rough-looking assistant, “Take her with the others, Greta, please.”
“Ya, Miss Helena,” said Greta, “Follow me.”
Helena and Camille returned to the practice room, and the door closed. Marissa, on the other hand, followed the rough-looking assistant through some halls and corridors until they reached a mundane door on the other side of the academy.
“In,” said Greta, opening the door, “Wait there. Miss Helena will be with you after classes.”
Marissa went in, and the door closed. But she wasn’t alone.
The room was painted pastel pink with cartoon characters from the shows and movies that her own daughter was already too old to watch. Even the chairs were colored and too small for adults, yet three other women were sitting in them.
She made eye contact with the one closest to her.
A beautiful woman with dark skin and an elegant presence. She was having a hard time fitting into the chair she had been given. Smartly dressed, with heels and a suit. She smiled at Marissa.
“Another one?” Asked the adult woman sitting next to the tall and beautiful dark-skinned one.
This one was the opposite. A bit short, funny-looking, with one of those boy haircuts that was trendy amongst lesbians. The way she dressed was also rough and boyish. If the word tomboy was a person, it would be her.
“What chu do?” Asked the tomboy woman.
“Late,” said Marissa, “You?”
“I might have insulted ballet as a whole in front of that weird-looking assistant of hers,” said the Tomboy woman, “The name’s Brett. You?”
“Marissa.”
“Candace,” said the tall and beautiful dark-skinned woman, “The one in the corner is Stella.”
Marissa turned to see the last woman in the room.
It wasn’t much of a woman but a young adult. She looked barely twenty, maybe some girl’s sister. She was hot, young-fucking hot. Marissa had never done anything with another woman, but she felt tempted. The girl’s body was definitely the extreme version of femininity that one would attribute to Aphrodite herself.
Although, unlike most girls her age, she didn’t have a phone in her hands.
“Why are you here?” Asked Marissa to Candace.
“Had a little argument with one of the kids.”
“With a kid?”
“She was being disrespectful of my daughter. And, I may or may not have made her cry.”
“No judgment,” said Marissa.
“Same,” said Brett.
“What about her?” Asked Marissa, turning to see the young woman on the other side of the room.
“She had her phone with her. And that Russian lady was angry.” Said Candace.
“So, is this like detention?”
Candace nodded, chuckling, “Yeah, and the warden is that awful woman. The one with the little mustache.”
Marissa knew she meant the assistant.
Minutes passed as they sat there, waiting for Miss Helena to come back for them. Had Marissa not wanted to make her daughter’s life better than hers was when she was a kid, she would already be gone. Dealing with her insurance company and working hard to make more money than her husband eventually. But alas, she didn’t want to disappoint Camille. Not again.
“That’s so fucking insensitive. I’m a proud married member of the LGBT community,” she heard Stella say, “You can’t just read that in front of me.”
“Why not?” Asked Candace.
“Because it’s homophobic, racist, transphobic, and anti-woman.”
Marissa turned to see what the argument was about and realized immediately what was happening. Candace, tall and beautiful as she was, was reading the new Trump biography. One of them black Republicans, perhaps.
“I find it so funny when a white woman tells me something is racist,” said Candace, standing up and towering over Stella.
Brett did the same, “I’m one-sixteenth Cherokee. Just so you know. I’m not white.”
Candace laughed in her face.
“You wanna fight?”
“Bring it, you hobbit.”
“Hey, girls,” said Marissa, standing up too, “Let’s not get into any more trouble today.”
“This doesn’t concern you,” said Candace, “It’s between this libtard and me.”
“There’s no room for your kind here, cis white woman, so shut the fuck up” said Brett.
Marissa didn’t want to do it. But all the rage she had been holding inside her couldn’t be kept buried any longer. She went straight to Brett and slapped her right on the left cheek. But Brett wasn’t shocked. The little woman with the boyish haircut gave Marissa a big ol’ punch in the face, and that’s when Candace got in the fight.
The other woman, the young one, stood up too. Though, unlike them, she went straight to the door.
“What are you doing?” Asked Marissa, pulling away from the fight while Candace and Brett kept going at it.
“I need to pee,” answered the young woman, “But I can’t seem to open the door.”
“That’s impossible. They wouldn’t keep us here without a way out,” said Marissa, walking towards the door, “You probably aren’t doing it right.”
She turned the doorknob over and over again, but nothing happened.
The door was definitely locked from the outside.
“Hey,” said Marissa to the two women that were still trying to fight each other, “We’ve got a problem.”
They stopped.
“We are locked.”
“No way,” said Brett and Candace in unison.
Stella started banging on the door, “Get me out of here. These old people are fighting. Please, let me out. I need to pee.”
“Stop that,” said Marissa, annoyed at the young woman’s antics, “Why are you even here?”
“I brought my stupid stepdaughter to this stupid class.”
“Stepdaughter? Are you some sort of trophy wife?”
She nodded proudly.
Stella stomped on the door again, “Let me out, you old cows. Let me out. I need to pee.”
Marissa was about to say something, but then the door opened. The rough-looking assistant walked inside the room.
“I heard one of you girls needed the potty.”
Stella raised her hand.
“Come with me,” said Greta, glaring at the other three mothers in the room, “Have you been fighting?”
No one said a word.
“Very well, Miss Helena will know about this.”
“What?” They asked in unison.
But the assistant didn’t answer.
“Hey, you can’t just lock us here!” Said Marissa, but Greta and Stella were already gone, and the door was closed again.
…
Stella rushed behind Greta.
She had always had a problem with making it to the bathroom if she waited too long, but it was okay. She should be able to hold for some more minutes. Even though a few drops had already found their way into her panties.
But then, she felt pain in her wrist. Before she knew it, the assistant grabbed her, pulling her not to the bathroom but to the room where all the little girls were dancing.
“Wait, I need to pee. Leave me alone,” she complained, but she could do nothing.
The woman was not only older than her, but her superior strength meant Stella couldn’t even fight back.
“Please, don’t. I truly need to pee.”
The door to the ballet room opened, and she was greeted by her stepdaughter, her friends, and Miss Helena herself.
“What’s the meaning of this, Greta?”
“We have a big girl that likes to whine and complain.”
“And what do you recommend?” Asked Miss Helena.
“Punishment.”
All the little girls in the room began chuckling, especially Stella’s stepdaughter.
“What say, you girls? Does this big girl need to be taught a lesson?”
“Yes,” they all said in unison.
“Go to the corner, darling,” said Miss Helena, towering over the stepmother, “You will remain there until the lessons are over.”
“But.”
“No buts. Or should I call your husband and explain you are the reason his daughter was not accepted into my academy.”
Stella wasn’t scared of many things, but she did fear her husband’s rage. He was not abusive, but as a trophy wife, she couldn’t just displease him.
“To the corner,” said Miss Helena.
And Stella obeyed, sobbing and avoiding eye contact with the girls. She just hoped she could hold it for ten more minutes.
“Thanks for your help, Greta. How are the others doing?”
“Nasty little girls that require punishment too.”
“I see,” Mis Helena paused, smiling, “I think I have a good punishment in mind for them.”
Chapter Two
Stella prayed for time to fly as she stood in the corner, facing away from what the kids were being taught.
It was bad enough she had to pee so badly, but Miss Helena humiliating her in front of that brat of her stepdaughter was too much. She could see it already. Ellie would return to her father and tell him that her mean step mommy had embarrassed her in her ballet lessons.
There was nothing she could do about it. Not even her sex could make Sven pick her over Ellie.
“Okay, girls. It’s time to stretch.”
She heard Miss Helena say.
The girls went loud as they obeyed her. Stella couldn’t see them, but it didn’t matter. She was close to peeing herself, and the class coming to an end was like music to her ears. But her bladder couldn’t wait any longer, and there was no way she was about to lose the battle in front of her stepdaughter and her ballet friends.
She moved, taking her sight from the corner where she had been for almost ten minutes.
“What you think you doing?” Asked Miss Helena.
“This was all fun and whatnot, but I need to go,” said Stella.
“I have not dismissed you.”
“And I don’t care. Expel Ellie or whatever you want, but I need to use the bathroom, and you won’t stop me.”
“Is that so?”
“Stop it, Stella. You are embarrassing me. I’ll tell Daddy,” said Ellie, grabbing Stella’s hand.
And her friends chuckled.
“Let go of me. You, little piece of shit.”
As soon as she said those words, she regretted it. Ellie let go of her, but that was the least of her problems. As far as Miss Helena was concerned, she had reached her boiling point. What an arrogant and spoiled little girl, pretending she had any power over her own life. She was everything Helena disliked, and even though they were almost the same age, there was no doubt about who was the most mature of them.
Stella felt a stronger force grabbing her wrist. It wasn’t her stepdaughter anymore. It was the ballet instructor, who was almost a head taller than her.
“I think you will only learn your lesson if I force you to learn.”
Stella was dragged to the one chair in the room as Miss Helena sat, forcing her into her lap.
“You will count. Ten will be enough; if you don’t count, I won’t stop.”
Everyone was silent. Everyone but Stella.
“Let go of me. You can’t do this!”
Miss Helena lowered Stella’s pants, leaving the young woman in just her underwear for everyone to see.
“No, stop it!”
SMACK.
It stung like dozens of needles against her perfectly round butt.
SMACK.
“Please, let go!”
“You have to count. I won’t stop until you do.”
SMACK.
“No, please. Please. Stop.”
“You know what you have to do.”
SMACK.
“One.”
All eyes were on the teacher instructor and the young woman being spanked.
SMACK.
“Two.”
SMACK.
“Three.”
SMACK.
“Four.”
SMACK.
Stella was now a sobbing mess.
“F-Five.”
SMACK.
Her butt cheeks were a bright crimson red.
SMACK.
“Si-Six.”
SMACK
“Se-Seven.”
The little girls were quiet, except Ellie, who was chuckling at the scene. Her horrendous stepmother was being humiliated, and even if her eight-year-old brain couldn’t understand it all, she knew she was enjoying the payback.
SMACK.
“Eig…”
But, sadly for Stella, that last smack broke her defenses. Her bladder, which had been full for the last thirty minutes or more, opened, and everything inside was let out. It was a small tinkle at first, but it soon became a strong flow.
“What the…” said Miss Helena, standing up immediately to put distance between her and the young woman, “Did you just pee yourself?”
Stella was in shock and couldn’t answer, but she knew what she had done, and her eyes were almost as damp as her crotch.
All the little girls were laughing now, making Stella cry even harder.
…
Candace couldn’t believe she was trapped with her worst nightmare made flesh and some random woman with serious anger issues. At least the blonde bimbo didn’t piss herself in the room. But, it’s been a long time already. Maybe she needed to go number two. Little girls were sometimes like that. She knew that. She’s dealt with many little girls before.
Or, maybe she didn’t make it and was now on her way to her husband to explain her potty accident.
She chuckled, wishing she had been able to see that play out.
“The door,” said Marissa.
Everyone turned to the door.
It was the rough-looking assistant.
“Miss Helena apologizes. But she’ll need a couple of minutes more. A little girl had an accident.”
“Accident? Is my daughter okay?” The three mothers asked in unison.
Greta smiled.
“Not that kind of accident.”
There was a short silence.
“Hey, what happened with the blonde girl?” Asked Marissa.
Greta let out a soft laugh and closed the door again.
…
Stella stood outside the room where, minutes before, she had just had the most humiliating experience of her life. Her pants were still down around her ankles, making walking hard. Her panties were still wet against her skin, though the warm sensation had now turned into a cold shame. Her eyes were still damp from all the tears produced by the ravaging spanking and the blatant humiliation she had just received.
“Alright, girls. Classes are over. Remember, work hard. Think smart. Be better.”
“Yes, Miss Helena,” said the girls in unison.
Then the door opened, and all the girls went out, including Ellie, who was still smiling ear to ear at the sight of her humiliated stepmother.
“Miss Helena called Daddy. He’s sending someone to pick me.”
“What?”
“He’s not happy with you.”
“What did you say to him?” She said between sobs.
But Ellie just smiled and left with the rest of the girls. Although three remained in the room. Stella figured they were the daughters of the three older women that were trapped with her before in the room that looked more like a nursery than a ballet academy classroom.
Then, Miss Helena came out.
She scanned Stella from foot to head.
“Pathetic.”
Stella sobbed again, “C-Can I go?”
Miss Helena grabbed her wrist again.
“You’ve given me the perfect idea to deal with immature kids like you.”
“I-I don’t understand.”
“Oh, and you don’t have to.”
She pulled her close, grabbed her butt, and lifted her like she was just another little girl in her care.
“But first, let’s get you clean.”
Helena carried her around the halls and passages of the ballet academy until they found themselves in her office, where the rough-looking assistant awaited. She was fitted there, holding a large package of something thick and white alongside other things.
“How did you manage to get all of it so quick?”
“I have my means, Miss,” said Greta.
Stella couldn’t understand what was happening but knew it couldn’t be good for her. She could try to flee, but she might not make it that far in her state. She could call the police, but she had no phone. She could only hope that her tormentor would let her leave eventually. That her husband, Sven, would still allow her back home after the words she spoke against her stepdaughter.
“Alright, little girl,” said Helena, placing Stella carefully over her desk, “This will have to do.”
“What are you doing?”
But Helena didn’t answer. She undressed the young blonde until there was nothing between her sex and Helena’s hands. The stink of her own pee was still strong around her hairless vulva.
“You can’t. I’ll tell the police. I don’t care if you apnea me again.”
But once again, there was no answer.
“Stop it right this second.”
A cold sensation around her crotch sent shivers throughout her body and then she realized what was happening.
“No, you can’t,” she pleaded with tears in her eyes again, “Please. Don’t.”
But it was too late. The assistant and the teacher forced her down as Helena lifted her butt to place the thick white diaper underneath her. Baby powder was applied carefully, making the entire room smell like it. Then, Stella was trapped in her new fluffy prison.
“Why?”
“Immature little girls like you need to learn a lesson,” said Helena, helping her sit, “But don’t worry. You won’t be the only one in diapers. No. Let’s go meet your new classmates.”
“Miss Helena,” said Greta, “I think we are forgetting her clothes.”
“Oh, true,” said Helena, smiling, “We can’t have you walk around in just a diaper, can we?”
Stella was in shock, and his fighting spirit was broken. She just let the ballet instructor lead her around the room as she removed her shirt and bra, exposing Stella’s fit body and perky breasts.
“Let’s get you in your new uniform,” said Helena with her thick accent.
Both women helped Stella get into some sort of pink clothes. She didn’t see what it was. She didn’t care because there was nothing she could do about it. Though, Helena wanted to know and forced the young woman in front of a mirror.
There, staring back at her, wasn’t the confident and empowered young woman she had seen that morning when getting ready for the day. In her place was someone else, a small little girl wearing what was definitely a pink onesie and a tutu that barely covered the thickness of her diaper.
“Wait, something’s missing,” said Helena, placing something in Stella’s mouth, “What say you, Greta?”
“Good. She’s a cutie.”
…
The three mothers sat in silence in the waiting room.
It had been ten minutes since Greta had told them that Miss Helena was dealing with someone’s potty accident, and Marissa was now sure she was referring to the blonde bimbo from before. What a shameful thing to do in front of her stepdaughter. Maybe the teacher was cleaning, and that’s why she is taking so long. Is not as if ballet was profitable enough to have a full-time janitor.
Then they heard the doorknob move again. The three turned in anticipation.
The door opened. But what came inside was not something Marissa had expected. It was the Russian woman and the rough-looking German, yes. And there was also Stella, who was dressed in what could only be described as a bad Halloween costume designed to humiliate someone. Gone was the sexy bimbo she had seen just thirty minutes before. In her place was a sobbing girl dressed in a ballet outfit that would’ve made any four-year-old jealous. She was sucking on a pacifier, holding Miss Helena’s hand like a little girl would with their mother.
“What the fuck?!” Exclaimed Brett.
“Is this a joke?” Asked Candace.
“What did you do to her?” Asked Marissa.
The door closed again.
“I was planning on having a little chat with you four. But after poor little Stella peed herself, she gave me a better idea.”
“Idea?” Asked Marissa.
“How far are you willing to go for your daughters?”
“What?” The three asked in unison.
“Very talented little girls. The three of them. I can turn them into the perfect Prima Ballerinas. You know that already. But that won’t happen unless you do as I say.”
“That’s enough. I’ve had enough of these clowns. I’m out,” said Candace, standing and walking to the door, “I will look for legal actions.”
“Will you know?”
But the door was once again locked from the outside.
“Let us go,” she said.
“We’ll fucking sue you,” said Brett.
And that was it. Greta, rough and menacing, grabbed the smaller of the mothers by the wrist and began administrating the treatment that little Stella had suffered just minutes before. Smack after smack against Brett’s butt cheeks, which became red and sore in seconds. The older of the mothers could do nothing but cry as she tried to free herself from the grasp of Miss Helena’s assistant.
Marissa and Candace were shocked.
And when Greta was over, she left the sobbing mess that was now Brett crying on the floor.
“Who comes next?” She asked.
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” said Miss Helena, leading Stella onto one of the chairs, “Right, girls?”
The two remaining mothers shook their heads.
“Let me tell you what will happen,” she said, walking towards Marissa and Candace, “You will do as I say. No complaining. Or same treatment for you. Understood?”
Marissa wanted to complain. She wanted to do something. But she was no match for either Helena or her assistant. They were rougher and stronger, and their presence was dark as dark came. No. She needed to flee. She needed the police, her husband, someone, anyone. She would play alone. They were nuts. They were dangerous.
“So?” Asked Miss Helena.
They nodded.
“Good,” she said, smiling devilishly, “Greta, why don’t you help me get our new students into their brand-new uniforms.”
“Uniforms?” Asked Candace.
Chapter Three
Marissa was in shock.
Miss Helena and her horrible assistant spanked Brett until she was reduced to nothing but a crying little girl. That wasn't the shocking part. What came next was worse as the shorter mother in the room was stripped naked and put on a diaper as if she was nothing but an infant. Brett did nothing as they locked her in that thick, white prison.
"Candace, you're next," said Miss Helena.
"Me?" Asked the elegant mother.
Mis Helena nodded, and before Candace could protest, she was being dragged in front of the teacher by the rough-looking assistant.
Marissa could do nothing as they stripped Candace right before her. She had to admit that, unlike Brett, the dark-skinned woman had a beautiful body that could put even Stella's to shame. Her vulva was already naked, so they didn't have to shave her. Unlike with the previous mother, they proceeded more carefully. The baby powder against her skin stood up much more, and before Candace could cry and plead, she was sealed inside a thick diaper just like the rest of them.
"She look so cute, don't she, Greta?"
"Cute," said the rough-looking assistant as she placed Candace in the same tutu as the other two mothers.
And then came Marissa's time.
She wanted to protest. She wanted to tell Helena that she was going to sue her ass into oblivion. But then she thought about her own ass. She thought about the spanking that had turned Brett into a sobbing mess just minutes before.
"Come," said Helena.
And Marissa did.
As they stripped her naked, she couldn't think about anything but her own mother doing that to her at night when she was twelve, and she had started wetting the bed again. It only lasted for a month after her father abandoned them, but it was enough to bring her to shame. She had never told anyone about it. Not even her husband. And now, here she was, being diapered by a woman younger than her. And what was worst, it was happening in front of others. Her biggest nightmare growing up was coming to reality.
Tears ran down her cheeks while Helena and Greta forced her down, shaving her vulva and leaving her crotch hairless.
Then came the diaper, and when her skin touched the thick padding, a rush of excitement traveled from her toes to her head.
She blushed, hoping they didn't notice.
"My, my. I think someone's enjoying it," said Helena.
That made Marissa blush even redder as she tried to cover herself with her hands.
She thought the others would laugh. She expected them to say something, but she felt relieved when she heard nothing but the sound of her diaper crinkling as she stood up.
"Good, now that you are all in your brand-new uniforms. There's something you need to hear," said Helena, helping Marissa walk towards the other three mothers, "It's going to be hard to hear, but it will make everything easier for you."
No one said anything. The four women just sat on the floor in their ridiculous attires, avoiding eye contact with one another and with the women that had forced them back into diapers.
"Greta and I had a short conversation with your husbands or, well, spouses. Your daughters must be now on their way home with their fathers and mother."
Brett was still sobbing from her earlier spanking.
"They also know you four had jeopardized your daughters' possibilities in my Academy. But, they were given a choice; they could pick up their daughters and you. Or they could pick up their daughters and not you. They chose the second option, and you are now in my charge for some…reeducation."
"Reeducation?" Asked Marissa.
"Reeducation," repeated Helena, "I'll teach you how to behave like proper adults."
"But, why the diapers? Adults don't wear diapers in this country," said Candace.
The dark-skinned mother looked ridiculous, trying to be defiant when her legs were spread apart because of the thickness of her diaper.
"Well. I believe you cannot be proper adults, or mothers, if you were not proper child. So, the next few weeks, I will teach you how to be proper toddlers."
"Weeks?" Asked Brett, still sobbing.
"What do you mean by weeks?" Asked Marissa, "I have to work."
"I'm not staying for weeks," said Stella.
"I'll sue your ass," said Candace.
The two women laughed.
"You should look at yourself. There's no leaving this place without my permission, and when I finish with you, you'll become Miss Helena's perfect little girls."
The four mothers complained in unison.
"Not a single one of you have anyone that will care about you missing a week or two, or more."
"More?" Asked Brett.
"I have work to do. I can't," Marissa tried to say, but Miss Helena shushed her immediately.
"Yes. Yes. You were a hard one to work out. But your husband assured us that he was talking with your employer. No one will come looking for you."
"You are crazy," said Marissa, holding back the tears of fear as she felt the urgent need to pee, "Please, let us go."
"I think the babies are cranky. Perhaps some food will cheer them up."
"What?" Asked Candace, "Food? We want to be let go."
But before she could protest any further, their two captors were gone.
Neither said a word.
Neither looked up. The four of them avoided looking at each other in the eyes.
The four women that just hours ago were the proud mothers, and a stepmother, of four girls, were now reduced to infants. Diapered, spanked, forced into toddlerhood once more. Some had not known the touch of that thick padded prison for decades, but Marissa knew it. And even if she hated Miss Helena for what she did, she couldn't help but feel excited about it.
Her thoughts drifted between wanting to escape and wanting to submit even further.
But those thoughts were put on hold when the loud voice of Brett was heard again. The smaller of the four had finally stopped sobbing and was standing up, though not in the way an adult would. Marissa didn't blame her. Moving while their legs were forced apart by the diapers was not easy.
"We need to leave," said Brett.
"Are you crazy?" Asked Candace, not even trying to stand up, "You just got beaten by those two savages. Do you want more? Or is it that you like the punishment, you kinky bitch?"
Marissa blushed but said nothing.
"I'm not staying here. You let them do what they please with you. I'm leaving."
"How?" Asked Stella, who had not uttered a word since she was brought back into the room, sucking on a pacifier and fully diapered, "There's no way out. She has the only key."
"Miss Helena?" Asked Brett.
Stella shook her head, "No, the mean one."
"Stop. Even if we could find our way out, look at us," said Marissa, trying to stand up but failing, "We are not in the position to run away. I can barely stand up, and I'm not ready to wander around a kid's ballet school naked."
"We are the victims here."
"Explain that to the cops," said Candace.
"Or to the other parents," added Marissa, finally getting up, "We can't even go to our spouses."
Brett began tearing up again, "I don't want them to spank me no more."
She broke right in front of all of them.
The tough mother looked more like an infant after a punishment than a mature woman with a kid and a wife.
"It's okay," said Stella, who seemed to be doing okay for her situation, "Come here."
The youngest of them held Brett in her arms as she cried like a baby.
"I need to pee," Brett said in between sobs.
Marissa blushed again. She also needed to pee, and what was worst, she wanted to pee her diaper so badly. But something inside her forced her not to. The voice of her mother, shaming her for yet another accident. She had not wet the bed in over a decade. She had not peed herself since she was a teen. She was not going to start now. But even if she didn't want to want it, she feared there would be no choice.
"Me too," said Candace, touching the front of her diaper as if inspecting the surface through the onesie, "Even if we take them out, there are no bathrooms here."
Brett cried even harder.
And it didn't take long for Marissa to realize why. The distinguishable sound of pee escaping into the diaper's padding was clear and loud, as there was no other sound but the mother's breathing and Brett's cries.
"Oh my god," said Candace, almost laughing.
"Did you just peed?" Asked Stella.
Brett nodded, still sobbing.
Marissa was blushing, hoping she could avoid that fate.
Brett buried her face against Stella's chest.
And that's when the door opened.
"What a lovely scene," said Miss Helena, "But no need to worry, darling. Miss Helena has exactly what you need."
And then she saw it, four baby bottles filled with some white liquid in the hands of Greta. But there was something off about those bottles. They were bigger, with rubber nipples that seemed more suited for a grownup's mouth than for a baby's.
Without hesitation, Greta grabbed Brett from Stella's arms.
"What the…"
But before she could protest, the rubber nipple had reached her mouth.
"Don't remove it until you are done with milk. Or else," said Greta.
Miss Helena did the same with Stella.
Then with Candace.
Until it was only Marissa left. The other three mothers were laid over blankets as they sucked the rubber nipples to receive the white nectar.
"Your time," said Helena, looking at Marissa, "Look at you. Your legs are shaking. Is it because you are scared? I wonder. Perhaps, maybe, you are looking forward to it."
Marissa looked away.
But she couldn't escape the thought. All she could hear was the other three women sucking on their bottles, and that made her lips burn against her diaper. It had been too much. She really wanted it. And her brain had no defenses anymore to prevent her from accepting what was being given to her freely.
Helena grabbed her, sitting on the floor and sitting Marissa over her lap.
"You are shaking, little one," said Helena.
Marissa kept looking away, even closing her eyes. If she didn't see Helena, it wasn't happening. At least, that was her thought.
"Do you like your diapers?" Asked Helena.
Marissa nodded.
Helena opened the onesie, leaving the diaper exposed.
"Answer properly."
"Yes."
"Good girl," she said, placing her hand over Marissa's diaper as she began rubbing it slowly.
For Marissa, that was it.
She had lost the battle.
Peed rushed out of her and into the diaper, and the more she peed, the more it spread around her padded skin. The more she peed, the more she felt her crotch moving rhythmically against Helena's hand.
"Are you enjoying this?"
Marissa nodded.
"Suck your thumb. Or I stop."
Marissa did it.
Sucking her thumb as a woman over ten years her junior rubbed the front of her wet diaper. All of it happening right in front of three other women, completely padded themselves, and a rough-looking one whose eyes were captivated by the bizarre scene in front of her.
No one said a word.
For a minute, it was just the crinkling sound of Marissa's diaper against the hand of Miss Helena. The sound of Marissa's breathing as she kept sucking her own thumb harder and harder. And harder until she finally came in her own piss.
"This will be fun," said Helena, placing the bottle of warm milk against Marissa's diaper, "I think you are going to enjoy what comes next."
Greta chuckled.
And Marissa was placed over a blanket right next to the other mothers.
"Drink," said Helena, "You will feel better after."
And as Marissa began drinking, she noticed that her eyelids felt heavier. Her body felt heavier. And that her breathing was slowing. She had just come in her own peed diaper in front of so many people. She shouldn't be able to fall asleep, but her brain was drifting. Her thoughts were fading. And as she tried to keep herself awake, she closed her eyes.
"I'll come back for you in an hour or so," said Helena, closing the door to the room, "And then we will start your new lives."
Chapter Four
Marissa was the last one to wake up.
She could feel the cold diaper against her skin, and everything that happened right before she passed out rushed back into her mind. She blushed, hoping none of the other mothers had seen anything. Afraid to face them, she pretended to keep sleeping, but they knew.
“We know you are awake,” said Candace.
“Yep,” said Stella.
Marissa turned to face them.
“What the fuck was that?” Asked Candace.
Marissa said nothing.
“Are you fucking perv?”
“Let her be,” said Stella, looking at her with something resembling kindness and pity, “It’s okay. I won’t judge you.”
“I will,” said Candace.
Stella fulminated the mother of darker skin with a cold glare.
“How long have we been sleeping?” Asked Marissa.
Candace shook her head, “No clue. But the hobbit over there is leaking, and she won’t stop sucking on that pacifier.”
Marissa turned to face Brett.
The shorter of them was sitting on the further side of the blanket, and her diaper was so full, Marissa could see it right through her wet onesie. The part of the blanket underneath her was also wet, and she was clearly sobbing as she sucked on a pacifier.
“Where did you get that?”
Candace showed Marissa her very own pacifier, which was attached to a clip on her onesie.
“You have one, too,” said Stella, “I mean if you want to use it.”
Marissa blushed.
“Look, I don’t know what happened to me. I haven’t had… intimacy in a while… and,” she sighed, pausing and then continuing, “I’m not a perv. I'm....”
“If you aren’t, you make a convincing impersonation of one.”
“Stop, don’t make her feel bad about herself. She clearly needs support. Are you into the whole baby stuff? You can be honest with us. I mean, we are all wearing diapers.”
“Yeah, but ours are not wet,” said Candace, standing up.
Her beautiful long legs and black skin contrasted so clearly with her clothes. Pink and white, the onesie made her look even sexier, though the diaper made her walk funny. Stella stood up next, she looked completely cute in her onesie and diapers.
Stella offered a hand and helped Marissa stand up.
“Thanks.”
“What are we going to do?” Asked Stella.
“We can’t stay here,” said Cadence.
“Yeah, but…” Stella tried to say, turning to see Brett again, “I don’t want to end up like her.”
“We won’t,” said Candace.
“That’s easy to say. We cannot open the doors, and even if we could, God knows where our clothes are. How far can we get without shoes and locked in these diapers.”
Marissa stopped suddenly, feeling a familiar pressure building in her bowels.
There was a short moment of silence.
“Are you okay?” Asked Stella.
“Oh no. Don’t do it,” said Candace.
“What? What’s going on?”
Candace knew what was happening. She was a proud mother and loved being one. Giving up her career to become a mother was not a sacrifice, but something she welcomed, which is why she knew what Marissa’s sudden blush meant. Her hands were on her tummy, and she was looking distressed.
“You are a fucking adult,” said Candace, “Hold it.”
Marissa was almost sobbing, “I-I…”
Then they heard a fart. But it wasn’t coming from Marissa’s rear. No. It came from the oversized toddler on the other side of the room. The one sitting over a puddle of her own pee. She farted again, and again. Wet and loud, and then the unmistakable sound of a diaper being filled with soft poo.
“Ew,” said Stella.
“That’s discus….”
But Candace couldn’t finish her sentence. She was feeling that increasing-pressure in her tummy. Painful, as if keeping it inside would make her bowels explode. Her legs were shaking, and then another fart echoed through the room.
“Oh, no, no, no,” said Stella.
Marissa and Candace turned to see her.
The youngest of the group was squatting next to them, both hands on the back of her diaper. She was starting to sob as another fart escaped her. Then, for the first time since she was potty trained, she felt her own mess against her skin as it found its way around her diaper.
“Sorry,” said Stella.
Marissa held her hand, trying her best to be sympathetic, but she couldn’t hold it any longer. She equated next to Stella and began pushing. The release of her own mess into her diaper was as ecstatic a feeling as when she peed herself right over Miss Helena’s lap. Her private parts were screaming for release as the mushy poo began filling every inch of her diaper. But, it wasn’t the accident that made her cry. No, it was knowing that she was enjoying it. She held Stella’s hand even tighter. Both of them were crying like babies.
Candace looked around.
She was the last one standing. The last one conserves some sort of dignity. But she couldn’t hold it any longer. The pain was too much.
She squatted right beside Marissa and did what the other mothers had already done.
Her body fought her. She had never done something like that, not even when she was a child. As soon as she turned two, she was already fully potty trained. She was proud of it. Proud of being the one that was out of diapers before anyone else. Now, she was back in them. She was dressed in what could only be described as a toddler’s outfit, and she was pushing and pushing, hoping she could fill her diaper so that the pain would stop.
First, her bladder let go.
The warm pee made her feel even more disgusted with herself. But it wasn’t over. Her rear opened, and the poo came out in a rush. It was fast, and it felt good to let go. But when it was over, she couldn’t think about anything but the fact she had just pooped herself like an infant. She wasn’t crying like the others, but a deep feeling of shame made her legs crumble, as she fell onto her butt, forcing the poo everywhere against her skin.
….
Elsewhere, Miss Helena sat in her office.
The laxatives she had put on the milk should have worked by now. Whatever little resistance those mothers had should by now be gone. They were going to submit to her, and by the time she had finished with them, they would be the perfect image of well-behaved little girls.
She smiled.
The door to her office opened.
“It’s time,” said Greta.
Her assistant was holding four large adult diapers with different prints. All of them pink and extremely babyish. She was also carrying baby powder, rash cream, and other items one would only use when changing a baby.
“Ver well. Let’s check on the girls.”
Greta nodded.
"Oh, and send the invitations, Greta. I want everyone to see our little girls' act."
Greta smiled and nodded again.
Miss Helena stood up. She was enjoying herself. Although she had started the day, dreading to deal with American parents, she had found the right solution for them. Soon she would have a ballet school for the little girls, and another for their mothers.
Comments
I'm glad you are enjoying it! More chapters will come soon!
Guilend
Yay. I absolutely love this story. Not only does it have dominant mothers, it has one that turns out enjoys it, the one that's basically a baby to begin with and of course the dominant one that things she's the best mother in the world. Pretty much all the different types of diapered mother stories all in one.
