Story #92: Doo-Doo in his Tutu

Story #92: Doo-Doo in his Tutu (Content Tags: Light sissy stuff, messy undies, wet and messy diapers, public humiliation, diaper punishment) "Ballet will teach you poise, grace, and patience; all things that you sorely lack. Maybe it'll also teach you to not make fun of your sister for it." Billy wasn't a happy camper. Billy was your average nine year old boy: he liked sports, video games, fart jokes, and getting dirty. He thought girls (like his little sister) were lame, and that their interests were even lamer. He was a messy, trouble-making, immature kid that wore backwards baseball caps and a mischievous grin. Billy was in ballet right now. Billy was a *ballerina*. It was a grave injustice, and one that he'd so desperately attempted to stop from happening, but here he was. He was one of three boys, with the rest of the class being all girls, of widely varying ages. The youngest was probably around three, while the oldest could easily be twelve or thirteen. The younger girls wore the more traditional tutus, while the older ones simpy wore leotards. The boys were thankfully spared from any tutus, but their own ensemble was not significantly better by any measure; white tights and a white shirt, with some of the boys sporting a leotard of their own. He hated it here, having to share a frilly class with his baby sister. Thank goodness that none of his friends or classmates knew, but *he* still knew, and that was bad enough on its own. The boy tried to act up, to get kicked out, but all it did was make his mother get increasingly enraged by his antics. One day during a lesson, he and some of the other boys in the class got bored and began to have a juvenile little contest. First it was just burping, to see who could do it the loudest or longest, but it didn't take long for that to twist into gas of another sort. "...You think *that* was loud, check out *this* one." Billy had boasted. He clenched his fists and raised a leg, pretending to be doing one of the stretches, and then he pushed. He got a lot more than just a winning fart. Billy could feel it as soon as it was happening, but he was powerless to stop it at this point. A mushy, warm pantload was making its home in his dinosaur-printed underoos. His expression was a better indicator than the smell, though not better than the big brown stain he'd made on the backside of his white tights... His mom had really chewed him out over that one. To her, it seemed obvious that the dirty little brat had done it on purpose, as retaliation for being forced to participate in the class. Perhaps he thought that if he ruined his outfit, then he'd have to stop going? Regardless of the real reason, she wasn't going to let him revel in any victory for it. Luckily, there was a backup leotard in his size! And as for the potty problems, she got him a package of diapers. Pull-Ups didn't seem fitting for having messy 'accidents', and these diapers would still be small enough to allow him a decent range of movement; though with them on, his leotard would more effectively look like a onesie. No matter his fussing or crying about it, Billy got sent back to ballet like that. Everyone remembered his little 'accident' from the last class, though seeing he was put in a diaper was still pretty surprising. His fellow dancers really got a kick out of that! It didn't help that even the youngest toddler of the class was past diapers, making his rump the only one padded in the room. So now Billy was still in ballet, except he had a worse uniform and the shame of being returned to diapers at the age of nine. The tables really turned with his little sister; instead of him teasing the Kindergartner for being a 'baby', it was her who was calling her brother 'Baby Billy'. His attitude toward the class got a lot more rotten than before, if that was even possible, but he at least was keeping his pants clean from any further accidents. Or he *was*, until he overheard his instructor speaking to one of the other parents. "...Oh, the diaper? No, he's not special needs, his mother just thinks he went in his pants to get out of taking the class. He hasn't had any more 'accidents', so I haven't really had to talk to her about our pottytraining policy." "Oh, so the diaper is just a punishment, not a precaution?" "I'm pretty sure. If he starts using them, then I'll probably have to discuss his future here with his mom. We don't really have the resources to be changing diapers..." He didn't eavesdrop long enough to hear the whole conversation, but he'd gotten enough of a gist to consider what his next move should be. As embarrassing as it seemed, he needed to go in his pants again, this time on purpose. He needed to do it soon too; the big recital was rapidly approaching and the dancers would be performing for the local school... *His* school. It would mean death for his reputation if he had to dance like a ballerina for everyone, and even more-so if he was doing it in a diaper! So Billy waited for the next class to come, and he made sure not to use the bathroom before it started. It would have to be a smaller sacrifice of his dignity now, if he wanted to avoid a worse shame next week. The boy let the class go on for a bit, feeling his gut gurgling progressively more intensely, before it was finally showtime. He'd been so anxious about crapping his pants again, that he'd spent much of the class dribbling into his diaper. The garment had swelled underneath his leotard and made his balance suffer, but the real damage was about to be done. "William, it is your turn to show me your rehearsal; please come to the front." His instructor requested. The boy cringed at hearing her use his full name, but he gave a grumble and came up to the front of the class to do as she asked. He'd considered doing this part with just a tad more privacy, but perhaps this would be better? This way, his teacher would *have* to notice his 'accident'. Billy began his routine. He was a beginner, so it wasn't too complex, but it still required a fair level of effort for him to pull off, especially with his damp diaper taped to his rump. Some of his classmates giggled, likely because they realized that his diaper had gotten a little bigger than it should be, and it had some sway even with it being held so tautly in place by the leotard. He got to the part where he had to lift up his leg and decided that it was now or never. As his leg raised up high, and his hands were up above his head, the boy gave a big push; the result was surprisingly swift and didn't require nearly as much effort as it should for something so antithetical to his ingrained toileting. **PBBBHHHHFFFT---PLOP!** A semi-solid steamer squeezed itself out, with an impressive length and girth, and the back of his leotard stretched out with a huge tenting bulge. The log pinched off and plopped before his leg even came down, and the diaper-seat sagged with the putrid parcel in a crinkling crescendo of shame. "W-William!" His instructor shrilly chastised, absolutely bewildered to see the boy do a big number two in the puffy padding that she'd been so assured was just for show. The rest of the class were in hysterics, especially his little sister. She'd been the one person he really wished didn't have to see that, since he knew he'd never hear the end of it, but it was still a small price to pay if it meant missing the recital next week! He'd been sent to sit off in the corner for the remainder of his class, forced to sit in his own filth like a dumb little baby. His teacher didn't have anything to clean him up with, and even if she did, she hadn't become a ballet instructor to change poopy diapers. It took him a little while to adjust to the feeling of the squishing underneath his buttcheeks, but he ultimately decided it was almost somewhat pleasant. At least until it began to itch, and the warmth began to fade. But by that point, the class was ending and his mother was coming to pick him and his sister up from it. That also meant it would be time for the woman to have a word with the teacher about her son's lacking 'potty skills' and how they have a policy about students being properly pottytrained to attend the class. But then apparently the talk didn't go the way he expected. He wasn't there to hear it, since the woman had angrily sent him to wait in the lobby with his sister, but he heard plenty afterwards about where things would be going from here. His little sister poked and prodded at the back of his padding, laughing and saying it was like he had play-doh in his Pampers. Before he could really lay into her for her obnoxiously invasive taunting, their mother had come out to take them to the car. The woman hadn't brought any diapers with her to change the boy, so he'd have to continue sitting in it until they got home. "...So, umm, no more ballet?" Billy inquired, the car beginning to back out of the parking lot. "And why do you think that would be, Billy? Were you thinking that if you soiled yourself again, that they'd kick you out of ballet?" Her voice was angry, but surprisingly calm for how enraged he knew she must be. It was definitely worse than if she just came out the gate shouting at him. "W-well, don't they um, have a policy about diapers? Uh, *going* in diapers?" "Yes, Billy, they do. There may be toddlers in that class, but its still a dance studio, not a daycare. They can't be pausing the class to deal with a little boy messing himself." "So, that means no more ballet class--" Billy didn't get through the end of the sentence without being interrupted. "No it doesn't, mister. I already told Mrs. Tiffany that I'd start staying for the classes, just in case my *nine year old* son needs his *diaper* changed. I had to do the same thing when you were four and the preschool had a potty policy, I volunteered to be a class assistant, since you were taking your time with learning the potty." Billy blushed and his sister laughed again, hearing for the first time that Billy had still been in diapers when she was. With his embarrassed silence, his mother continued on: "I'd thought that when I finally got you trained before Kindergarten, that you understood it. Maybe I rushed things and you needed more time...Or, you decided that you would do this on *purpose* to get out of your class. I suppose it doesn't really matter which it is, now does it?" The fullness in his gut returned and they were still at least fifteen minutes away from home. "...I have to go again." The boy quietly mewled. "Well you might as well finish your business in your stinky diaper. You're going to be wearing another one when you get home, and I don't want to have to change you twice in a row." "H-huh?!" "Billy's gonna wear diapers at home too?!" His sister chirped. "Yes, he is. Until he can learn to behave himself and become properly trained. That means no using the potty until I see your attitude improve, mister." Without much in the means of choice, that meant Billy would indeed need to finish messing his diaper before he'd be given a fresh one to wear. The boy sulked, but ultimately gave into the urges from down below; he lifted his bottom as high as he could from the seat, until his seatbelt was stopping him, and he closed his eyes. A burbling percolation came from the back of his leotard and he could feel his diaper filling with a much softer ooze. The drifting odor intensified for the rest of the car trip, and once he was getting pulled out back at home, it became clear that he'd suffered a blowout. His mother told him not to worry about the brown-stained leotard, because he'd be wearing something else entirely for the recital. She sure wasn't kidding about that either. On the day of the recital, after changing him out of a soggy diaper, she pulled out a different package than before. These diapers were much thicker, they were pink, and they had prints of rainbows and unicorns all over. These were *girly* diapers! He tried to complain about them, but the woman slyly mentioned that nobody would see them; that they would be covered. She wasn't lying, but he honestly wish that she had been. It was just a couple of minutes before the recital would start; Billy stood backstage with the other younger kids of the group, a position he'd been demoted to on account of his potty failures. Instead of the leotard, he now wore a tutu like the youngest kids and just as his mother said, his pretty pink diapers were totally obscured by a big ruffled diaper cover. Billy was a bundle of raw nerves. In just a few minutes, he'd be seen by the entire school in this sissy baby get-up! He was piddling on himself, or at least he was pretty sure he was from the warmth on his groin, but his diaper was thick enough that it wasn't noticeable from the outside. The boy could feel an anxious fluttering in his gut, and he really, really hoped that was just from his nerves too. Bad enough he was going out like this, he didn't want to glom on any other humiliations to the parade of shame. The curtain came up. Almost immediately there was some giggling from the audience, but with all the teachers and parents around, there weren't any verbal insults coming his way at least. Billy attempted to do his routine without his face being seen too much, but it was hard enough to do things even normally, with the extra thickness spreading his legs apart. He'd just come out of a relevè when he felt a spurt of warmth spread across his rump. The routine was nearing an end, but it wouldn't finish fast enough to save him; he did a few other moves, and could feel more soft poop jetting out into his diaper. With the music going, only those closest to him could hear the nasty sounds, at least for now. The dam would burst completely just as the recital was coming to a close; Billy's final move was to twirl and bend forward, which would unfortunately present his bulging ruffled rump to the crowd. The music faded out, but before there could be applause, there was a typhoon. It sounded like a firehose of mud being sprayed into a crinkly plastic bag; of course Billy's bowels had to wait for the worst possible public moment to unleash the most explosive diarrhea of his young life. There was no stopping it either, he just had to maintain the bent pose, while an unyielding geyser of sludge flooded his diaper like a tsunami. The garment swelled up like a balloon, and even the thicker diapers were unable to contain everything; the pink ruffled rhumba panties were staining brown in some choice spots, while the crowd looked on in bewildered horror. It took less than ten seconds to fill his pants, but it might as well have been an eternity for the fourth grade boy. Finally, it was his sister that came to his aid and grabbed his hand, leading him in a squishy waddle off the stage. He hadn't heard mockery for it yet, but he knew he wouldn't be able to escape it once he was back at school tomorrow. Especially since it was pretty much certain that he'd be in diapers for quite some time. He'd been afraid that ballet would make him look like a sissy, but now he looked like a sissy *and* a big baby.