"Scrub faster, loser! My boyfriend will be here any minute and he doesn't want to fuck me in a filthy bedroom, does he?"
"N-no superior! Squeak squeak!" I said, scrubbing the floorboards and squealing as she whipped my back anyway.
"What a selfish horrible stinky little sissy mouse," huffed the ballerina, kicking me in my little balls as I scrubbed. "When Miss Heseltine said you wanted to spend one of your days off from ballet making it up to all of us for delaying our lesson by doing chores, she could have mentioned that you're a pathetic lazy loser!"
"I'm so sorry, superior! Squeak squeak!" I sobbed. Internally I was seething. This little brat, a pretty redhead in her mid-twenties, had been running me ragged all day. I'd mowed her lawn, cleaned out her garage, scrubbed and spit shine her car and her boyfriends motorbike, hand-washed all his disgusting laundry, scrubbed the kitchen until it had gleamed, and now I was on my hands and knees in their bedroom, desperately cleaning the floor, still stuck in my silly ballerina mouse costume, my last diaper change a distant memory.
"I can't believe I've had to smell your stinky sissy loser diapers all day!" she yelled, holding her nose and kicking me again. "I'll be sure to tell Miss Heseltine AND your mommy about how inconsiderate of one of my precious senses you were, sissy!"
"Oh please, please don't do that, superior! Squeak Squeak!"
"Silence! You disrespectful little toad. Just for that you can wash my boyfriend's truck too. I'll tell him to drive it over," she said, smirking and texting him. "That means I have to wait even longer for him to fuck me - ugh, why are you obsessed with ruining my life you sissy freak?!"
I apologised and kept scrubbing. This was only the first stop. I still had eleven more of these ballerinas to visit and do maid work for. Surely they couldn't all be this cruel and unfair?
These happy thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell, which naturally I was sent to go answer. I thought I'd die of embarrassment as her boyfriend burst out laughing at me in all my pink sissy finery. I just curtsied and asked him to come in. He pushed past me and soon they were passionately making out while I just stood there feeling like a stupid frilly third wheel. A quick glimpse in the mirror at my mousey makeup and the word 'LOSER' freshly applied to my forehead reminded me there'd be little kissing in my future.
"We're gonna go upstairs," said the redhead, kicking me in the balls again to get my attention. "Have fun washing the truck, loser!" She giggled and winked at me as he lifted her up in his big strong arms and left me to my latest miserable chore.
Maybe miserable isn't strong enough a word. The truck was absolutely caked in mud, and he'd parked it in the street rather than the driveway. I blushed anew and got to work, fruitlessly scrubbing at the caked-in filth and trying to ignore the laughter, the hushed comments, and the not-so hushed comments as the sissy ballerina mouse made a complete spectacle of themself. It was a hot, muggy day and soon I was sweating in my stupid outfit. My diaper felt like a furnace. I moaned as I predictably pissed myself yet again, to shocked laughter and 'oh my gods' from the many onlookers.
Finally, after hours of horrible scrubbing, the truck was spotless and gleaming, and I was a sweaty, muddy, stinky sissy mess. I pranced back up the driveway and went to enter the house. But one of them had closed the door and locked it. I was about to ring the doorbell when I heard giggling directly above me.
"Nice job, loser!" said the redhead, smirking to me from her bedroom window, arm in arm with her grinning boyfriend. "Did you have fun cleaning my boyfriend's truck?"
"Y-yes Superiors. Squeak squeak!"
"Aren't you going to thank my boyfriend for the honour and privilege of getting to touch his truck, sissy?"
I blushed and held back a scream. With my best sissy smile I said "Oh thank you ever so very much for letting sissy mouse touch your truck. Squeak squeak!"
