A teaching area was set up off to the right side of the nursery, opposite of the changing table where the stacks of diapers seemed to loom. Against the wall hung a dark green chalk board, hemmed with a cracked, brown wood. Sitting about five feet away from the board sat a wooden desk, equally as cracked and old as the rest of the room. Everything had an eerie bluish green glow to it and gave off a ghostly fog.

The nanny led the way as Mix-Up trailed close behind. Somehow he felt obligated to follow the nanny's lead, despite clearly having the freedom to run out the door at any time. For a fleeting moment he even worried that he might get lost in this strange haunted mansion if he didn’t follow her. Whenever he didn't move quite fast enough, he was ushered along by a gentle nudge from the nanny's magic. She was in no way pushy or rushed with her advances, but kept things up at a steady and efficient pace. She couldn't have her charge dawdle now.

Hoisted up once again by the nanny’s magic, Mix-Up was plopped into the desk chair, his diapered rump cushioning the impact as he was dropped onto the warped wooden seat. Old, rusted joints creaked under his weight as the desk felt cold to the touch. It was as if he was sitting on a metal bench on a cool winter evening.

The nanny meanwhile took her place in front of the board, levitating a stick of chalk into the air. With graceful dexterity, the chalk danced across the blackboard's surface, drawing out opulent letters in a thin and wispy cursive handwriting. The nanny's penmanship appeared elegant in design, yet stiff and rigid in execution.

With the white chalk, the nanny wrote out the first subject of today’s lessons: Etiquette and Manners. “A proper colt should know how to carry himself in important social gatherings,” she began as she wrote a list of items with her chalk, “he is polite, quiet, and well mannered.”

And with that, the nanny’s sudden school was in session. All the lessons were delivered dryly and by the book. The nanny solemnly strayed from the topic and presented each lesson in the same short and to-the-point manner that seemed to orchestrate the rest of her life. She never wasted time with colorful descriptors or off topic anecdotes. Her job was to present the information and that was it.

Mix-Up felt like he was back in some twisted version of grade school. For a fleeting moment he flashed back to those days back when he spent less time learning and more time goofing off. He did the homework, most of it, but hardly ever paid attention during the tedious lectures that all the teachers in his life needed to give. No matter the class, mathematics, social studies, reading, the information was always presented in long winded speeches where the teachers would talk to the class for hours on end about whatever was on the lesson plan that day. In that way, it was as if the nanny was a conglomerate of all past experiences he had in the educational system.

Even nowadays, his entire high school career - or...was it middle school - was a constant uphill battle. It wasn’t that he was deliberately trying to be a bad student, it was just difficult to focus on anything being taught to him when it was delivered with the same mundane, monotone voice. When he’s forced to sit for hours on end, listening about modern history or poets from hundreds of years ago, it was no surprise that he’d spend the time daydreaming. Even now he could feel his focus fading and he spent more time staring at the cracks and carvings in his desk than at the board.

“Back straight!” the nanny shouted, whipping a wooden ruler against the chalkboard with a sharp smack.

Mix-Up popped out of his daze and immediately shot upright in his seat, back perfectly straight. His jumped to the top of the desk parking themselves on top, spaced evening apart on opposite sides of the desk’s surface. His attention snapped back to the chalkboard which was now covered in a number of figures and math problems which the nanny had been slowly working through as the lecture continued. How long had he been spacing out?

Throwing a glare at her ‘stubborn’ pupil, the nanny returned to the lessons. She took meticulous steps in explaining each math problem by the order they were solved. The equations, however, were incredibly low level. She taught him so much, but in a strange way he felt like he was being untaught.

He felt a fog grow over his mind, although it might have just been out of boredom. Everything he was being taught was so juvenile and obvious. It didn't take a genius to know how many sides a square had or which clock hand was the hour hand. It was like his mind was shutting down from the under stimulation and disinterest. Like his mind was draining of knowledge and information he had learned over the years. It very nearly put him to sleep.

Before long he acquired a sort of half focused, half opened eye stare. He was paying attention for the most part, but didn’t appear to be the most interested of students to teach. Listening to the nanny drone on about mathematics and literary devices was tiresome.

He began to stare at the notes on the chalkboard with a daze. He watched as the words and sentences turned into shapes and then into blurred white blotches. The blurred images remained incoherent for the longest time, but soon morphed into fluffy clouds. The clouds gently floated across the blackboard, drifting aimlessly across the surface like the night sky. Among the soft clouds popped out an airship, still just as white as the clouds, but much more detailed than the fluffy clouds it cruised through. The airship powered through the clouds before being joined by other airships until a whole armada floated across the blackboard sky. The clouds then turned into gentle waves as the airships lowered themselves among the white ocean.

He imagined himself on a white sandy beach, watching the ships go by across the horizon. The late afternoon sun above still felt warm even as it was slowly setting over the sea. The beach felt so real from the silky fine sand to the cloudless summer sky. He could hear the crashing of the waves, hear the cawing of seagulls, and smell the salty ocean air. He could even feel the sun's gentle rays warming him up as if he had just finished swimming in the cold white water. It was tough to say how long he imagined himself sunbathing under the summer sky

The warmth seemed to linger even after the daydream image began to fade. When the salty air and the sound of waves reached their natural end and began to disappear, the one thing that stuck around was that strange warmth. It took him a moment to realize things that the warmth now focused around his crotch instead of his entire body. Something was wrong.

Mix-Up finally snapped out of his daydream, startled by the glowing heat that now encompassed his crotch and back side. Did he really just pee himself? A subtle wetness had grown between his legs. His school boy pants now bulged out tightly against his crotch. He looked between his legs with wide eyes and a flushed face.

“U-uhm, M-miss Nanny?” he spoke up with a bit of an embarrassing squeak.

“A proper colt does not interrupt!” the nanny barked, barely looking up from her notes.

That shut Mix-Up down almost immediately, silencing any further attempts at grabbing the nanny’s attention. He could only imagine what sort of twisted punishments this strange spectral world had in store for him if he disobeyed. He had no choice, but to sulk and wallow in his soggy diaper.

The lessons continued on normally as he sat there in a heavy moment of disbelief. He could hardly comprehend the fact that he let his control slip that much. Just what was going on in this strange mansion? How could he have let himself get this far? Why was he just sitting there in a wet diaper, allowing this ghostly nanny teach him these childish lessons?

His mind flooded with these thoughts that conflicted with his situation. His mind made escape seem so simple and yet there was a part of him that didn't want to. Maybe it was the dread of disappointing the nanny or the fear of incurring the wrath of whatever magical powers hung over this strange place. For some reason, and this was rather strange for Mix-Up, peeing in his diaper felt...good. He couldn't even explain it. It was as if the act of wetting himself made him more comfortable in diapers. It was relaxing in a way and that’s what confused him the most.

After what felt like hours, the nanny finally wrapped up her teaching with a brief lesson summarizing the three different types of triangles. All of which was thoroughly explained in excruciating detail earlier in the lessons.

"I suppose that will be all," the nanny sighed, placing her ruler on the large desk that now appeared in front of her, "for now Madame Jewel has requested that I verse you on your dancing skills."

With a glow of her magic, the nanny helped Mix-Up out of his chair and ushered him out of the room. At the same time, she took the opportunity to check the young stallion’s diaper, finding it thoroughly soaked, but not wet enough to merit a change.

Mix-up was pulled back into the main hallway which was now pitch black and full of shadows. In the brief time he spent there, his slow adjusting eyes could only pick out faint and blurry afterimages of hanging frames and extinguished candle fixtures. The trip was brief, but even in that time he noticed the lack of creaking from loose floor boards or the musty stench of stale rainwater. The floor even felt cleanly carpeted in some parts.

Further down the hallway they entered a large, open room that was lit up by a number of small glass chandeliers. It appeared to be the same dance studio that Mix-Up had explored earlier, but it seemed more vibrant in color this time. The wood was no longer stained with mud and the ballet bar attached to the wall was no longer broken or rusty. The cloudy windows on the far wall were no longer broken and opened the room up to an early morning sun.

The gardens that stretched beyond the view through the tall glass windows glowed in a golden morning glow. Lush green trees with finely groomed, round tops dotted the landscape. Squared off flower beds of blues and reds and octarines decorated the gently flowing green lawns. Occasionally the whole landscape seemed to quiver and shimmer, revealing a blink of sepia toned evening sun. This was difficult to notice, however, since the more Mix-Up focused on it, the less the flickering seemed to happen.

Off in the nearest corner of the room stood an old record player sitting on a square table made of an ornately designed dark wood with a highly polished gold horn protruding from its top. A jet black record sat still as a shiny gold needle arm hovered over it, practically begging to be played.

"Let us begin," the nanny stated, standing face-to-face with Mix-Up with an expectant stare.

She waited a beat, looking at the colt as if he was expected to do something. Still trying to process what was happening in this strange, ghostly funhouse, Mix-Up hardly had any idea. She looked at him longer and he just stared back at her. Finally the nanny rolled her eyes and crudely helped the colt up to his hind legs. She then hoisted his forehooves into the air, positioning one on her hip and the other extended to the side, joined up with her own. She paused for another beat, examined her footing, the stallion's stance, until finally casting a small spell onto the record player.

The record player crackled to life, its hand crank twisting on its own as the vinyl on its turntable began picking up speed. The music started slow, moaning out long, drawn out notes before the eerie instruments evolved into sounds that Mix-Up could recognize. The tune was an orchestral piece, muffled by the vinyl medium, but lively all the same. Through the distortions and record static, the song appeared to be some sort of waltz that blocked out a steady tempo.

“And," the nanny started, straightening up and pulling Mix-Up's hooves up. "One two three. One two three. One two three,” the nanny called out the steps to the tempo of the music, leading Mix-Up along a sort of waltz.

Mix-Up felt silly being guided along the wooden dance floor. He didn’t know how to dance so he practically stumbled over every dance move. Every stumble caused his sagging diaper to slosh and crinkle underneath his tight school boy pants, exaggerating his loss of balance every time he swayed just a bit too far to the left or right. The nanny led him well, even going as far as to supporting him when he was just about to trip over his own feet and fall. There were even times where she helped him up to his feet with a firm push into his soggy diapered rump, but for her this simply was a means to an end.

The pair danced around the center of the room, going through the gentle sways of a typical ballroom dance. Over and over again, the nanny walked Mix-Up through the routine, leading him in circles as the music continued to play. She practiced with him a dozen, no maybe it was a hundred times, until he got the hang of it. He was dizzy and felt like he had two left hooves the entire time, but he was getting the hang of it.

The waltz transitioned into a steady slow dance as the enchanted record player flipped to its opposite face. Muffled violins were now predominantly on display in the musical piece, giving it a more romantic and floaty tune. The nanny changed positions and pulled Mix-Up right up against her in a surprisingly intimate pose. At least it might have been considered intimate if she didn’t maintain the rigid professional attitude towards it all. To her it was all just a job even if the colt she was dancing with started to blush.

Mix-Up meanwhile struggled to breath for a moment. As he was pulled closer into the nanny’s grip, he felt his heart shiver as everything in his body seemed to shudder and shift in a millisecond.

The dance was much easier to learn than the first one. Generally speaking it simply involved the pair swaying in place, rocking from their toes to their heels. The simple dance routine made it easy to memorize and within moments Mix-Up spent less time staring at his fumbling feet and more up at the nanny.

Amidst the lofty tunes, their eyes met. The nanny’s charcoal gray eyes twinkled in the light as Mix-Up stared deeper into them. Her embrace felt warm. Soothing almost. For the first time during the night, Mix-Up no longer felt that ever present chill in the air. He took a deep breath, which for once felt warm and almost tingled a bit.

The warmth was almost intoxicating. It was like a nice warm blanket on a cold winter day. It was comforting, calming, fuzzy even. It sent a pleasant tremor through his whole body, surging through his legs and pulsing up to the tips of his blushing ears and then down to the tip of his tail.

Suddenly the gentle swaying was interrupted by an immense, burning pressuring that abruptly appeared in Mix-Up’s gut. He squatted down immediately, bearing down on a pressure in his gut that he just HAD to get rid of. The urge was so primal. Something that he couldn't put off. His diaper bulged out against the fabric of his pants. The tight material ensured that the whole thing stayed close against his body.

The dancing grinded to a halt as Mix-Up made a baby of himself in the middle of the studio. His strained grunts and tiny huffs were amplified by the echo chamber of a room around him. It felt like he was up on stage, putting on a forbidden show of taboo for a captivated audience.

When he finally finished, the teenaged pony straightened up back into the expected dance position, only when he looked back up at the nanny, her stern and straight faced expression had morphed into a surprised and mildly irritated one.

“Madame Jewel will be very displeased when she hears about this,” the nanny sighed although she didn't sound entirely disappointed or all that surprised by this.

Mix-Up could only feel shame for what he had done. First wet diapers, now he was soiling himself out in the open like some kind of overgrown toddler. Just what had gotten into him? What was going on in this place? How could he get back on the nanny’s good side?

The enchanted record player stopped with a crackling thud as the tonearm snapped back into its raised position. That was enough dancing for today. The nanny forcefully pulled Mix-Up out of the room, nearly pulling the startled stallion right off his feet as he scrambled to follow.

The main hallway was now well illuminated by the orange glow of flickering candles that hung off the walls in ornate metal fixtures. A red velvety carpet stretched down the middle of the wood paneled floor, connecting the number of closed doors to each other. The ruined landscape paintings and tattered tapestries that Mix-Up could only faintly recall seeing not too long ago now appeared completely restored to pristine condition. Gold trimmed, wooden frames were no longer splintered and there was nary a frayed string in any of the red and purple draperies.

The portrait paintings that the pair so briefly passed appeared in much better shape this time around as well. One painting in particular was the portrait piece consisting of the aristocratic mare and the faceless colt. The regal mare appeared just as she did before with her lavish dress and elegant mane. The color in the painting’s pigments even looked as if they had more life put into them. The colt in the painting, however, appeared to be the age of a toddler...although as Mix-Up thought more about it, he began to think the colt was always that age. Still, much like before, the colt’s face was impossibly indistinguishable.

It was tough to really take in the sights at the rapid pace that the nanny kept up. Mix-Up had much more trouble keeping up this time through the hallway as the heavy load in his diaper kept his back legs bowed out in a toddlerish gait. He felt ridiculous waddling after the nanny like some kind of lost puppy. Everywhere he went, the heavy stink of his diaper was not too far away.

Returning to the nursery, the nanny wasted no time pulling Mix-Up onto the padded changing table. The stallion’s heavy diaper slopped against his backside as it mushed against the table, molding its oozy texture around his backside as he cringed..

“I hope you know that I will be telling Madame Jewel EVERYTHING you’ve done tonight,” the nanny firmly stated, disappointed, frustrated, and stiffly stern all at once, “she has not put me in charge of issuing punishments, but I assure you I will be giving her some STRONG WORDS about your recent slippings of discipline.”

“Y-yes, nanny,” Mix-Up managed to sputter out, fighting the instinct to hide behind his forehooves.

The nanny took a sharp breath of air and took a half step back. She recomposed herself and straightened her outfit out. “Yes well,” she started again, still sounding frustrated and stern, but strangely a little more collected and calm, “consider yourself lucky that I’m changing you tonight. If it were up to me, I’d make you sit in it for a few hours.”

Mix-Up gulped and nodded a submissive nod. He would have very much preferred NOT being changed into a new diaper, but looking into the stern eyes of the nanny made that option almost unthinkable.

The nanny immediately began the diaper change, ripping the diaper open and wiping the area clean. The stench of the mucky mess was replaced by the sterile and sour smells of scentless baby wipes as they were used to clean the stallion’s backside one by one. Shortly after that, a fresh diaper and a frugal covering of baby powder covered Mix-Up’s lower half and he was once again wrapped in the softness of the crisp, dry padding. All this time spent in a wet diaper made him miss that soft feeling.

“I’m sure you’re tired,” the nanny stated, prompting Mix-Up to let out a yawn, “an early bedtime then. You’ll need your energy for tomorrow.”

Another yawn slipped out of Mix-Up’s mouth as he struggled to find the energy to even ask what was happening tomorrow. Suddenly he felt so exhausted and lethargic. His eyes felt heavy as sandbags and his thoughts slow and sluggish. He heavily relied on the nanny’s assistance as he was helped into his crib.

“Ah yes, and one more thing,” the nanny stated as she lifted up a toy with her magic.

The toy was about twice the size of Mix-Up’s head, resembling an adorable plushie sheep. It’s body was a roundish ball made of a curly, faux wool fabric with four cute stubby feet filled with beans for an added bit of weight. Two brown glassy eyes were attached to its snub nosed muzzle as two gray horns made of minky protruded from the sheep’s head, curling over its cute little floppy ears. The whole thing was stuffed with just enough cotton to make it huggable.

“Madame Jewel picked this out for you to sleep with,” the nanny said as she handed down the plushie.

Mix-Up accepted the gift with unsteady hooves. “She...picked this out for me?” he replied, examining the stuffed animal, “uhm...tell her I said thank you...”

“I won’t have to,” the nanny replied, “you will be seeing her tomorrow at the banquet.”

“Banquet?”

The nanny let out an aggravated sigh. “Yes, the banquet. The estate’s annual harvest celebration. You, of course, will be expected to attend.”

“I-I uhm...alright,” Mix-Up replied, returning his attention to the sheep plushie, “does uhm...does he have a name?”

“I don’t know why it would,” the nanny raised an eyebrow as she magically hoisted the crib’s gate up into place, “but if you must, you may name your toy.”

Mix-Up snuggled into place, sliding under the blankets with his new bunkmate in hand. “Uhm...G-goodnight,” he felt he needed to say something.

“I will return in the morning,” the nanny simply said as she made her way out of the room. “I cannot expect you will be able to dress yourself.”

And just like that, the overhead lights were turned off as the blue glow of the moon came flooding in. With his plush sheep in his arms, Mix-Up rolled over onto his back and stared up at the dark ceiling that hung high above him.

How very strange that he’d be put to bed so early in the day. Or was it early? Mix-Up had trouble keeping track of time. The only thing he had to base things off of were the brief glances he got of the outside. And even that was tough to keep track of. It felt like just hours ago it was morning. Or was it yesterday? What time was it now?

He held his sheep toy up in the air and looked at it in its glassy eyes. “I don’t suppose YOU know what time it is,” he said to the toy, not surprised when it didn’t reply. Instead he let his hooves drop to his sides, allowing the plushie to roll wherever it might roll.

These fuzzy distortions of time followed Mix-Up well into the night when he finally fell asleep.

Author's Note

What do you call a dancing sheep?

A baa-lerina!