Surprise Update - Miss Helena's Ballet Academy for Immature Mothers - Completed (Patreon)

Hi guys! 

Here, you can find the completed version of Miss Helena's Ballet Academy for Immature Mothers, including the last chapter. For the members of the Premium Baby, the PDF will be up soon, too. Hope you enjoy it, and let me know if you'd like more stories like this!

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Miss Helena’s Ballet Academy for Immature Mothers

It 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 were, 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. A force of nature, some called her, and they were right.

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. She was a drunk and an absent parent, and Camille wasn’t going to deal with that. Not if she could help it.

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 much taller and with massive breasts. Even for someone with a kid, she kept herself looking fine. Some would call her a MILF. She would call herself a sexy, independent, and powerful woman.

“Mom, it’s going to start soon.”

“It’s okay, darling. We’ll be there in no time.”

“You promise?”

Marissa nodded.

“She’s supposed to be the best of the best. I wanna make a good impression.”

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 fighting 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 later.

“Alright, let’s get you there,” said Marissa, kissing her daughter’s forehead.

Camille smiled.

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. Probably someone to give her some pleasure. Her mind went straight to her college days, and a kiss with someone she had not seen since. Those were the days.

Finally they arrived at the academy, but unluckily, 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 pharmaceutical 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.

So, 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. She glared at Marissa, though smiled kindly at Camille.

“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.”

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 old cow 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 her,” said Marissa, “Some people are just not designed to be parents.”

“True,” 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 while talking with the teacher. She wasn’t happy about it.” 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 eventually make more money than her husband. 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 Brett 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 Brett.

Brett did the same, “I’m one-sixteenth Cherokee. Just so you know. I’m not just white.”

Candace laughed in her face.

“You wanna fight?”

“Bring it, 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,” said Brett.

“I’m trap here with you, so it does.”

“Fuck off,” said Candace.

Marissa was rd with rage.

“Yeah, fuck off,” said Brett.

She didn’t want to do it. But all the anger 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 for 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.

“Miss Helena will know about this.”

“What? Why?” 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 locked 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. It was okay, she kept telling herself.

But then, she felt pain in her wrist. Before she knew it, the rough-looking assistant had 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 just couldn’t 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, “We’ll deal with them soon.”

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 Stella onto 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 spank 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 her to know, so she forced the young woman in front of a mirror.

There, staring back at Stella, 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. Something in Stella broke in that moment. The image she had of herself blurred and blended with the image of little girl staring back at her.

“Wait, something’s missing,” said Helena, placing something in Stella’s mouth, “What say you, Greta?”

Stella sobbed as the pacifier was placed in her mouth.

“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 now?”

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 paralyzed, shocked at the scene unfolding in front of them.

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.

“What do we have to do?”

“For all intends and purposes, you will be little girls at my care. You will learn to dance like your daughters. Every day. You’ll be taught. And if you manage to perform a perfect recital. I’ll let you be free.”

“Free?”

Miss Helena nodded.

“Do you agree?” She asked in her thick accent.

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 couldn’t believe what was going on.

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, though. 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. She just sobbed like a dumb toddler.

"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. Naked but for the diaper, Candace sat next to Stella and Brett. Marissa’s heart began racing fast.

"She looks 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 and all defiance left her body.

"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, when 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 one single 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, knowing there was no way they knew about it.

"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. So that means walking around in these ridiculous clothes.”

"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 sobbing 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

Twelve-year-old Marissa was breathing heavily. She knew her mother was looking for her, and she knew why. Never had she cared about anything Marissa did, but she cared about her bedwetting. Why couldn't she be more understanding? Marisa asked herself, fighting back tears of frustration.

"There you are, Marissa! Come here right now!" Shouted her mother.

But Marissa didn't move.

"You're going to come here and get ready for bed, or I swear you'll be sleeping outside with the dog!"

But then Marissa woke up.

She was an adult now. A mother, a successful career woman. Yet, even though she was an adult, 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 kept her eyes closed. Not wanting to draw attention to herself.

"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 that 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."

"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 disgus…."

But Candace couldn't finish her sentence. She was feeling 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. I'm so 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 holding onto 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.

She lost the battle for the first time in her life. She felt small and terrified, and yet, she didn't cry. Unlike the others, she remained as stoic as possible.

….

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. America was such a fun country; she was glad she had left her hometown. And she was glad she hired Greta as her assistant. People in this country needed a bit more roughness.

The door to her office opened.

"It should be time," said Greta.

"Ver well," said Helena, smiling, "Let's check on the babies."

….

The nursery-like room in the ballet academy stank with the unmistakable smell of ammonia and shit. With the windows closed, there was no way to ventilate the place. So the four mothers sat there, in their own mess, sobbing. All of them, with the exception of Candace. Humiliated but still resilient, the proudest of the four mothers refused to cry in front of anyone.

She breathed slowly, calming herself.

"Can you stop sobbing like babies?" She asked the others.

"What do you prefer we do?" Asked Brett and her voice surprised Candace and the others.

"You stopped crying," said Candace, matter-of-factly, "I thought you'd never would."

"Don't be rude," said Stella.

"Rude?" Asked Candace, "Rude?! You pissed yourself in front of your stepdaughter and ended up in diapers, which probably led to all of us ending up in them," she then turned to face Brett, pointing at her, "And you! Your tantrum's got us in this mess. I'm sure of that," then she directed her anger to Marissa, "And you. You're pathetic. Getting off to diapers and pee and a woman younger than you. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"That's not fair," said Stella.

"Well, life's not fair. If you haven't noticed, we are trapped in this place, diapered, and sitting in our shit. That motherfucker's enjoying it, and the other one's been crying non-stop for an hour. And you, you seem to not care about it!" Candace said, "I'm getting out of here. And I will divorce my bloody husband, and I'll sue this place and Helena and that manly woman. And…”

And then, the door opened.

"We need some ventilation here," said Miss Helena, walking into the room alongside Greta.

Marissa blushed as she saw her, remembering what had happened before. She looked away, but all she could find was Candace's judging looks and Brett's red eyes. So she looked down at her disgraced diaper, which was doing its best to keep all of her fluids inside. Though, she didn't know how long that would be.

"Do you think they deserve to be changed? Or should we get them to earn that privilege?"

Greta smiled, "Little girls should earn the right to be clean. I think."

"Good then. Here's what will happen. You four will perform for us. If you manage to do a pretty dance for five minutes without falling on your asses, I'll… we'll change you."

The four mothers didn't know how to react or answer.

"What if we fail?" Asked Candace.

"You stay in that dirty diaper for another hour. That should teach you the lesson," said Helena, "Anyway. Who wants to go first?"

Brett raised her hand immediately, given the state of her diaper, no one was surprised by it. However, when Candace raised her hand right after, even Miss Helena couldn't believe it. It would be a fun performance, that's for sure, and she was planning on enjoying every second of it.

Chapter Five

Candace's pride refused to accept the idea of dancing in front of others wearing a ridiculous onesie and a full diaper. And yet, that's the situation she found herself in. Her bare feet trembled with every step, and her heart raced.

Stella stood up, ready to try her luck.

"So, you've made up your minds?

"Good," said Miss Helena, grinning with delight. "Starting… now."

A loud sound filled the room. It was the sound of tap shoes clicking on marble floors. The four women, once proud and powerful, walked toward the center of the room. Each one wearing a massive diaper filled with their own mess. Each one trembling with fear, uncertainty, and embarrassment. Each one fighting against their own urges to either break down in tears or run away. Yet, none of them did.

For ten seconds, twenty, thirty, the music played, and their feet moved according to its rhythm. Candace was the first to fall, tripping over her own feet and landing on her rear, spreading the mess inside her diaper even further around her crotch. Stella followed suit, losing balance and falling into Marissa. Together, they crashed onto the floor, creating a chaotic mess. Marissa tried to stand up again, but her wobbly legs gave in, sending her sprawling onto the ground. Brett managed to remain upright, but she fell down when she noticed the weight of her diaper had won the battle against the tapes. Not even the onesie was able to hold onto it. It broke, and the diaper fell to the ground, revealing all its contents and forcing Brett into humiliating sobs.

Miss Helena chuckled.

Greta chuckled.

The other mothers didn't know how to react.

"I think that's enough for right now. We might as well get you clean before we try again," said Miss Helena to her rough-looking assistant, "Greta, can you help me get some fresh diapers for our girls?"

Greta nodded, smiling, leaving the auditorium right away.

For a second, the rough-looking assistant was transported to a scene in her past. Greta was younger and wearing some sexy lingerie. In front of her a woman older than she had been. She was crawling on the floor, wearing nothing but a diaper. It had been her job back then. Paid to humiliate or take control over people, rich and older. And she was good at it. This woman was a heiress to big fortune. But inside the room, she was Greta's baby. The older woman moved around, sucking on a pacifier. If only the world knew she wasn't a powerful, independent woman but a diaper-wearing baby under the surface. But Greta was a professional, and she would never tell on her clients.

She continued walking down the corridors, knowing she had made the right decision. She had picked the right job for her talents. She would turn those bratty women into proper little ladies.

Back in the auditorium, Miss Helena was observing the mothers. She wanted to see who would crack under pressure first. Would any of them give up their adulthood? If she was a betting woman, she would bet for Marissa. It was clear to everyone she was not hating the punishment, no matter how much she pretended she did. But, being honest with herself, Miss Helena wanted them all. Something inside her had awoken, and now she couldn't turn it off.

As Greta returned with the fresh diapers, she could feel the anticipation in the air.

"All right, ladies," said Miss Helena, looking at them sternly, "We're giving you another chance. Prove to me that you can obey. That you are very good little girls. And you will win your freedom. Disobey, and you won't like what will happen. Well, at least most of you will hate it," she said, looking at Marissa, who blushed at those words.

"Can I get a fresh diaper now?" asked Candace, still looking proud.

"Me too, pwease," said Brett.

"Sure," said Miss Helena, and an idea came to her. She could push them further. Make them accept their new reality. But not force them. Not yet. And then asked,"  Let's start with the most pathetic of you. Who do you think that is?"

No one said anything.

"If there's no answer. There's no clean diapers for any of you."

"It's me," said Brett, sobbing. Her naked crotch in full display, messy and wet. Her butt was covered in her own poo and out in the open for everyone to see. She was indeed a delight to behold.

"That seem's bout right," said Miss Helena.

"Who should go next? Who is the second most pathetic baby here?"

Once again, silence.

"I guess only one baby will get a fresh, new diaper…"

"Me!" said Marissa, blushing and avoiding eye contact with Miss Helena. She didn't hate being in diapers like the others. She didn't mind her own mess. In fact, she actually enjoyed it. But she wanted Miss Helena's touch again.

"Good. But ask nicely."

Marissa hesitated for a second, "Pwease, can I have my diapy change, Miss Edena?"

Miss Helena felt a rush of excitement in her beautiful sex. She was so wet down there already; she might as well put on a diaper, too. "That's more like it," said Miss Helena, breathing in and out slowly to keep herself calm, "Who will be third?"

Stella raised her hands.

"Ask for it, little girl," said Miss Helena to the young woman who was closest to her age.

"Pwese, Miss Edena, can I get changies?"

Miss Helena nodded.

"That leaves us with you," said Miss Helena, "I thought you wanted to get clean. Or is it you like it just like Marissa?"

Marissa blushed even redder, but she couldn't deny her own sex was craving the treatment.

"I'm not a baby. I'll dance for you. That's okay. But I won't degrade myself. I'm not like them," said Candace with determination in her eyes.

"Aren't you know?" asked Miss Helena, "Suit yourself. But you earned yourself more time in your own mess. If you get a rash, that'll be on you."

Miss Helena turned to her assistant, "You can get the babies clean, Greta. I'll deal with this one."

"Yes, Miss Helena," said Greta.

One by one, Greta led the mothers back to the nursery room until it was just Helena and Candace. It was time for the ballet teacher to have her way with the proudest of the mothers. If she can break her, the others wouldn't stand a chance.

What was her end goal? What did the Russian bitch want? Candace asked herself as she was left alone with Miss Helena.

"Do you know why I know none of you will tell on me?"

Candace shook her head.

"Cause you Americans care too much about other people's opinion. You cannot cope with being looked down upon or being disliked. Being ostracized by your society scares you."

Candace smiled, "As soon as I go out. I'll sue the shit out of you."

"I know. The others won't," Miss Helena said, grabbing her phone and taking a picture of the diapered mother, "I'll make it easier for you. I'll upload this. And a video of you dancing in your diaper. And let you go free. You can do whatever you want. Sue me or not. How does that sound?"

Candace's world broke in that moment.

"You wouldn't," said the elegant and beautiful mother in a state of desperation.

"You'll neighbors will see it. Your husband will see it. Your daughters. People from your church. And yes, you could say I made you. But everyone will see it. And not everyone will believe you. And you'll have to live with that tormenting you every single day."

And the mother who hadn't cried yet. The one that had endured the most. The one that remained proud during the entire time broke down. Sobbing, she asked, "What do you want me to do?"

"Accept you're baby now. Say it."

"I'm a baby," said Candace, crying desperately as she did.

"Now say, Miss Helena, please change me."

No hesitation anymore, Candace said, "Miss Helena, please change me."

"No. No. Something's wrong here. Say it like a baby."

"Pwease, Miss Edena, changies, pwease."

Miss Helena smiled.

"Suck on your thumb."

"What?"

"Do as I say and suck on your thumb."

Candace hesitated this time, for just a second, but soon her thumb found her mouth, and within a blink, she was sucking on it as if her life depended on the very action. Tears fell down her cheeks, staining her face with mascara while she kept her thumb in her mouth, completely humiliated.

Miss Helena took advantage of the moment to undress her, revealing her perfect body, slightly marred by the diaper and poop smeared across her bottom. The proud, strong Candace now lay helplessly, feeling her shame deepening with every action taken by Miss Helena.

Miss Helena smiled cruelly, seeing Candace's discomfort. She unbuttoned her blouse, baring her shoulders and cleavage. With one hand, she cupped Candace's face, gently caressing her skin with her thumb. With the other, she reached for Candace's blouse, pulling it upwards and exposing her breasts. Candace squirmed, her embarrassment palpable as she struggled against the restraints holding her in place. Miss Helena smiled at the sight, relishing in the power she held over these once-proud women.

Pulling the diapered mother closer, Miss Helena removed Candace's thumb from her mouth and kissed her, stopping her tears of humiliation.

"Why?" Asked Candace.

"It all began as a way to teach you a lesson. Brady American mothers. Annoying. Arrogant," said Miss Helena, "But Marissa woke something in me. And now I want you all. And I will have you all. I always get what I want."

And Miss Helena kissed Candace again, awakening in the once-proud mother something primal. Not even her poopy diaper could stop her from feeling aroused.

"If you accept being my baby, I'll make you feel this way every day, all day."

Candace hesitated.

"Or I could let you go. And you won't get it again. That's your choice. But if you decide to stay, you won't be a little girl anymore. You'll be my baby girl. Full-time."

"I—I don't," Candace paused, but she had a better way to answer. Her thumb found its way back into her mouth, and she sucked on it. But there were no more cries. She was actually smiling. She was giving up her adult life. No more parties. No more entertaining high-society ladies. No more going to church twice a week. No more debating libtards in her free time.

"Such a cute baby girl. Let's get you clean now."

Candace said nothing. She just kept sucking, her adulthood drifting away.

Chapter Six

Marissa was happy to be in a clean diaper, if only because it meant she could wet herself and fill it all over again. The notion of her being a mother, wife, and successful career woman was almost unthinkable. And it had only been a matter of hours. What could happen in a matter of days?

She didn't have to wonder that for long.

Miss Helena came into the room, leading Candace by the hand. The once proud and elegant mother looked different. She was sucking on her thumb as she waddled behind the ballet teacher. She seemed happy about it somehow. She followed Miss Helena's orders without question, smiling innocently as she walked beside her mentor. Candace's smile betrayed an inner happiness she hadn't known before. Her former self vanished as quickly as it had come. It was as though she had always been meant to walk behind Miss Helena, hiding herself like a timid little girl.

The once haughty mother now found contentment in such a simple task.

Stella's transformation was equally striking. Gone was the air of entitlement that had once surrounded her. No one would confuse her for a bimbo trophy wife anymore. How could they? She was wearing a diaper and smiling at a crib mobile playing in the background. Things progressed even faster for Brett. Confrontational would've described her well just earlier that day, but now, she was just as gone, parading around in her diaper, waddling because of its thickness.

And the days went by, and there were very few things they could do but for what Miss Helena allowed them to. Every day, they would dance to earn a diaper change right after they were given laxatives. The smell itself would've made Marissa throw up in disgust. Now, though, she didn't care. She was used to it. When they weren't eating, sleeping, or dancing, they would be allowed to play, but not to talk. They weren't allowed to talk to each other anymore. And Greta was always there to ensure that was the case.

None of them seemed to care anymore. Not after days of the same treatment, begging for Miss Helena's touch whenever possible.

As for Marissa, within a matter of days, she had turned from a successful businesswoman to a diaper-dependent little slut. She couldn't conceive the idea of cumming without being in her own mess. She wore a bright pink tutu, her hair pulled back into tight pigtails. Her face displayed pure joy as she spun around in circles, occasionally losing her balance and giggling. No one would have guessed that she used to be a multimillion-dollar company's strict and domineering CEO.

Marissa, who had always prided herself on her impeccable appearance, now reveled in her newfound infantile state. She relished the experience of dirtying herself, the soft, comforting warmth of her diaper wrapping around her legs. Even the act of sucking her thumb provided her with a sense of calm that she had never quite achieved in her previous life.

Miss Helena observed her transformation with satisfaction. The changes wrought in these once powerful women had exceeded even her expectations. She had initially assumed that their pride and dignity would prove too great a barrier to break through.

She had won, but there was one more boundary to break, and she was going to break it to the point of no return.

"Girls, I have a surprise for you," said Miss Helena.

The mothers turned their attention to their captor and now, Mommy.

"We are going to put together a little show, just you being cute together with your nice outfits in front of your families, colleagues, and friends."

The women looked at each other, unsure what to make of this sudden announcement. "You all will wear your best outfits and your prettiest accessories," Miss Helena continued, her voice gentle yet firm. The mothers looked around at their filthy diapers and stained clothing, still trying to process the idea of participating in such an event.

"Our daughters will see us?" asked Candace.

"My employees?" asked Marissa.

"Our friends?" Asked Brett and Stella.

Miss Helena nodded, "And so will anyone who wishes to come." She knew it was the last push. It would be the last boundary to be broken. Once they accept everyone else thinks of them as babies, they will, in fact, become babies. There would be no way back. And they would become hers for as long as she wanted.

"You know, girls, you are already doing so well. You've become well-behaved little babies. Wouldn't it be fun to show everyone just how good you are now? We can do it publicly! All your loved ones will witness your growth and transformation. Wouldn't that be fun?"

The mothers glanced at each other, clearly unsure.

"Pwease," said Candace, sobbing, "Don't."

Marissa was conflicted. On the one hand, didn't want anyone to know what she had become or what she had always been. But on the other hand, she craved the humiliation it would bring. Her thoughts were disrupted by a familiar warmth spreading around her crotch.

"It's fun you think you have a say in the matter," said Miss Helena, "Greta, can you get the girls ready for their big debut tonight?"

Greta nodded, "As you wish, Miss Helena."

Without waiting for any further protests, Greta picked up Candace first.

Candace's eyes filled with tears, "Please don't let them see me like this." She clung onto Greta desperately, hoping to avoid facing her reality. But there was no escaping it. What Miss Helena demanded, she would usually get, and if she didn't, it only meant the four mothers would be spanked until they couldn't cry anymore.

……………..

That night, everyone in the audience awaited for what was to come.

There was chatter amongst them, people wondering whether the invitation they received was real. Most of Marissa's employees were sitting, waiting patiently. They wanted it to be true. The cold-hearted bitch was never popular among those who served her. They occupied almost two full rows of seats. But it wasn't just Marissa's employees in the audience.

Stella's best friend was there. Another trophy wife who envied her because Stella's husband had more money than hers. Stella's stepdaughter was in the front row, impatiently waiting to see her horrible stepmother embarrass herself in front of everyone. Then there was Candace's entire church community. The women that had respected her in the past but had also loathed her self-righteousness. Candace's daughters were there too; the youngest was barely seven, while the oldest was already a woman.

Brett's wife sat there with their daughter. She had always regretted marrying her, but they had a kid together. A group of Brett's closest LGBT friends was there too. They didn't judge. If Brett was happy as a baby, why make her feel bad about it, right?

And then the light went off, and Miss Helen appeared on stage.

"Good night, everyone. My name's Miss Helena," she said, smiling at the audience, "And tonight, we will witness something unique."

Silence in the entire theatre room.

Then, the stage lights dimmed, and as the curtains opened, a melody began to fill the auditorium.

The four mothers stood center stage, dressed in their best attire. Each of them wearing nothing underneath but a thick diaper. As they stood before the crowd, some looked slightly uncomfortable, while others seemed oddly confident. They didn't move. Frozen in their places, they could barely stand, thanks to Greta's idea to double-diaper them before their presentation. Each had been given a suppository, too.

They knew what would happen, and they dreaded it.

"Dance, girls. Or you won't get a change tonight," Miss Helena said, and some chuckles echoed in the auditorium.

Brett took the initiative. It didn't surprise Marissa. After all, she had already been through that before. But the passion in which she danced was admirable, actually. As if, somewhere deep inside the mother, she wanted to humiliate herself right in front of family and friends. Marissa didn't have much time to question herself as, soon enough, Candace and Stella followed until it was just her standing still.

Marissa closed her eyes and followed the rhythm of the music. She imagined herself somewhere else. Still diapered, of course, she couldn't picture herself without a thick padding around her crotch anymore. But she imagined herself somewhere else, somewhere with Miss Helena. The Russian woman completely naked, and Marissa on her lap, attached to the ballet teacher's bosom, sucking the sweet nectar that came from it. That was now her happy place.

The music kept going, and everyone was enjoying the spectacle.

All of a sudden, Brett stopped. The shortest and chubbiest of the mothers felt a familiar sensation spreading in her lower abdomen. Growling, her stomach forced her down, squatting right in front of everyone. Perhaps what followed was, according to Marissa, the most embarrassing moment of their lives. Candace followed her, and then Stella, and then Marissa herself.

The entire auditorium remained quiet as they witnessed women in their forties and very pretty bimbo shit themselves as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Marissa's eyes were watery as she pushed the entire contents of her bowel into her thick padding. Her eyes made contact with each of her former employees. They were smiling, and their judgment felt more pleasurable than sex itself. Had it not been because her daughter was in the audience, she would've rushed her hands to the front of her diaper. But she didn't. None of them move.

"The show's not over, girls," Miss Helena said.

And the four mothers stood up, feeling the mess inside their diapers, and went back to dancing.

They moved to the beat of the music, their faces red with shame. Their eyes met occasionally with their loved ones in the audience. Still, none dared to look away or show any sign of sympathy. Each step they took symbolized surrender, a final goodbye to their previous lives. And they danced, and they shamed themselves, and they enjoyed every moment of it.

Miss Helena watched, her smile growing wider with each passing second. She had succeeded again. She had managed to break another boundary and reduce them to the state of helpless infants. They stood there, looking like the biggest fools ever. This was what they had agreed to - to become infants, to give up their control and submit fully to Miss Helena.

"You've won your freedom, girls," muttered Miss Helena behind them.

They couldn't really answer as she forced pacifiers into their mouths.

Soon after, Miss Helena announced that the evening was ending.

"Thanks for coming!" she said, "Please, pick up your baby. You can change them yourselves."

Candace's husband, a prominent figure in their church, was visibly upset. He held his wife's hand tightly, not believing she had allowed herself to be exposed in such a way.

His heart ached, but he also felt an unwanted stirring in his pants, knowing that even if she wore a diaper full of her own shit, she was still incredibly attractive. The other church members shifted uncomfortably in their seats, feeling both pity and embarrassment for their once esteemed leader. They couldn't believe the transformation of Candace, who used to be the epitome of moral rectitude and propriety. How did she allow herself to be degraded in such a manner?

Brett's wife was silent throughout the performance, her eyes filled with disbelief and anger.

The couple had been through many difficulties together, but this was undoubtedly the lowest point. Seeing her wife humiliated like this broke her heart, but she also couldn't help but feel a mix of jealousy and arousal towards her new persona. Maybe they needed this, she thought for a moment. Maybe, just maybe, she wanted the same treatment.

As Marissa left the stage, she saw her daughter's teary eyes and crumbling façade. She felt an immense sense of guilt, knowing that she had betrayed her own child. How could she ever expect to be considered a mother again? She could barely walk because of her full diaper, and as she emptied her bladder, she followed her husband's lead.

"Unbelievable," he said with a severe tone.

Marissa could do nothing but suck her pacifier. At least she had somewhere to go still. Stella would've to stay with Miss Helena as the bimbo had been dumped by her rich husband.

The forty-something-year-old mother looked back at the stage.

Miss Helena looked right at her. The teacher knew Marissa was hers, and she would return to her no matter what. It would just be a matter of time. In the meantime, perhaps, she might regress Greta just for the fun of it while she waited for her babies to return to her.