Dreena the Ballerina

"It is very important to me to develop my husband's effeminate side," explained Agnetha. "I have met with success in sissifying him, as you can see, but now I feel he needs dainty activities."
"And what better for that purpose than ballet dancing," said Mademoiselle Flounce, her swan-like neck extended fully as her chin rose to the ceiling. The chiffon hem of her ballerina skirt all but touched the polished floor all round her as she stood beside husband Darren Parsiphone and took one of his arms. Her wrists melted with daintiness, but he felt the grip of her fingers and found himself pulled to his feet.
"No, heavens no," declared Mademoiselle, "one must rise from the hips, but with the impression that it is your fingers which draw you upwards. Arc your opening hands, like so, in a graceful sissy movement. Goodness, a creature of indeterminate sex like yourself should find it comes naturally."
Indeed it did, and Darren found himself standing with his toes pointed at ninety degrees as Mademoiselle divested him of each of his garments. He shrank with a shy modesty when he was naked, his hands covering his embarrassment. Agnetha watched with pursed lips. Her idea of having him learn ballet was an inspiration. Parsiphone's arms were spread by Mademoiselle Flounce.
"Open out," she cried. "How am I to dress you in your hose?" The soft nylon was slotted over each of his feet as he held the bar, and soon his penis stirred with girlishness as the panty closed over it and encased it in pale ballet pink. Agnetha watched approvingly. Next came his leotard, his arms threading through as it slid over his head and body, for Mademoiselle to collect front and back under his crotch and pop each of the fasteners. He blushed at the girl who looked back at him from the mirror.
The petticoat she brought was bursting with frills of silk chiffon. He stepped each pointed toe into its waist, and from then on carried a bouncing platform of frills around his waist. His tutu dropped onto his frills from above, and its fragrance filled him with girlish dreams as it passed his nose, its ribbons catching on his shoulders as the skirt sizzled to his waist.
"The sissy will start with tap dancing," said Mademoiselle, placing a pair of hard-soled shoes on the boards with a clunk. Their heels lifted Darren into the air, half a head above his ballet teacher. He would need her hands to guide and support him, round the soft nylon waist of his leotard or on the plump nylon curves of his panty. His ballet lessons were ready to begin, and his panty gusset was pushed high into the ruffles of his petticoat as he made his first, tenuous steps. It would be a long road ahead, but the destination for the new ballerina, as Agnetha knew, would be a sweeter, more girlish femininity.