Friday, 23 November 2012

Day One Act Four

We're Back!

The Master tossed Alice a roll of toilet paper. Cheeks blazing bright red, she tore off a wad and reached beneath herself to begin gingerly cleaning her delicate back passage.
     “Quite the performance,” the Master said smugly, “I’m sure the viewers at home loved it too!”
     Alice grimaced and blushed, radiating pure hate. The last thing she needed was to be reminded of the disgusting and degrading spectacle she’d made of herself, nor of the potentially millions of people who had just watched it.  She wanted nothing more than to punch this jerk in his self-satisfied face.
     But she knew there would be dire consequences if she even tried, so she swallowed her rage and continued wiping the sticky, gooey mess from her behind and stewing in her own anger and humiliation.
     Ironically, the other contestants watched her enviously. Shifting from foot to foot, trying to acclimate to the huge, heavy messes in their pants, they would have gladly endured Alice’s humiliation, and then some, to have spared themselves this indignity… especially Brittany, who was now sobbing at the thought of being incontinent. Lucy stiffly tried to comfort her, vividly aware of the mushy mess currently plastered over her own butt.
     “Well ladies, all in all a very successful evening, wouldn’t you say?”
     The contestants moaned or grunted in response, each one too busy wallowing in her own misery to muster up an answer. Alice had finished cleaning her rump and was now busy cleaning the smear she’d left on her leg. With a snap of the master’s fingers, the potty and the mess disappeared into thin air as quickly as it had appeared in the first place.
     “Now,” he continued, reveling in their embarrassment, “Ms. Stern, you need a fresh diaper, so you stay here while we get that ready for you.”
     Maggie sulked and pouted, but simply nodded sullenly in response. The messy mudslide in her diapers had effectively taken the fight out of her… for the moment anyway.
     “You too, Ms. Philips,” he said to the sobbing Brittany. “The rest of you are free to return to the living quarters for the evening… and might I suggest a shower, ladies? You’re beginning to smell a bit ‘off,’ if you know what I mean,” he chuckled, delighted with his own wit.
     Destiny, Lucy, and Alice took the opportunity without hesitation. A maid appeared to lead the way, and they shuffled off slowly behind her, trying to minimize the movement of their derrieres to avoid squishing the poopy loads any further.
     Once they were gone, the master reached into a nearby chest and removed a wide plastic mat, which he spread out on the floor. Making eye contact with Maggie, he pointed firmly to it without saying a word.
     For a moment she simply stared uncomprehendingly. Then, all at once, his intentions came clear to her, and she turned pale. She looked up into his face pleadingly, and knew that he was absolutely serious. This… this bastard intended to give her a dirty diaper change!
     “… But…” she began piteously, her voice high and whiney at the injustice of it.
     “Right now young lady,” he said sternly.
     Maggie pouted and whimpered and stamped her foot, but the master didn’t budge an inch. Reluctantly, she lowered herself to its plastic surface, nearly retching when she felt the load squishing under her now Kardashian-esque booty, spreading across her cheeks and oozing up her crack. She realized, with some small satisfaction, that the Master was going to have his work cut out for him getting her poopy tushy clean again. Watching him gather supplies from a cabinet, she spitefully planted her entire weight onto her rump and wriggled her cheeks in the muddy mess, squishing it around as much as possible. Part of her knew it was childish and pathetic, but she was desperate to maintain a certain level of defiance… she still had her principals, after all, poopy diapers or not.
     “OK,” he said, setting the supplies nearby and taking a spot between her legs, “let’s check the damage.”
     He undid the tapes and folded the front of the diaper down, whistling as the mess came into view. The load itself had been massive and mushy to begin with, but Maggie’s squishing and grinding had spread it all across her butt-cheeks and caked it thickly into the crack. The back panel of the diaper had been stained almost up to the waist band. “That’s a very big mess,” the Master chuckled, taking a wet wipe and diving right into the job of cleaning her up.
     Maggie blushed warmly. She’d tried to make the job as disgusting as possible… but this lunatic actually seemed to be enjoying himself.
     Then again, maybe it was just her embarrassment he was enjoying… Maggie pouted and blushed, her button nose twitching at the smell of her own poop. It did feel wonderful to get cleaned up, but the embarrassment of the entire situation—being cleaned up and diapered after an messy accident, and by a man to boot!—was just too much to endure. She was also vividly aware that the entire scene was being watched by Brittany, but Maggie knew she had problems of her own to worry about.
     “Oh what a messy baby,” the Master chided her, discarding another used wipe for a fresh one. “What a messy baby with a big, stinky bottom!” he chuckled, giving her butt-crack a firm wipe with the cool cloth, making her shiver and blush. It was a thoroughly degrading experience… all the more when she found herself becoming aroused. The militantly lesbian Margret was now forced to confront the alarming possibility it wasn’t just her body that the master had changed… either that, or she was actually aroused by getting a diaper change… she wasn’t sure which was worse.
     Finally, he had her poopy badonkadonk cleaned off, and it was time for the Vaseline. “Bottoms up!” he chuckled, hoisting Margret’s ankles into the air above her, drawing a squawk of shock and outrage. She fumed when he began working the gooey gel into her seat, coating each cheek thoroughly, and plastering her butt crack with it, her toes curling with humiliation when he thoroughly greased her butt-hole. And through it all, Maggie found herself more and more turned on.
     The powder came next… in her highly aroused daze, Maggie felt him patting it first into her rump, then lowering her legs to repeat the process on her front. The sensation was like nothing she’d ever experienced, tangling her insides into a knot of humiliation and arousal. She’d never felt so deliciously, delightfully feminine. The arousal was building and building inside her—she could feel herself coming up to an earth-shattering climax…
     The diaper was pulled tightly between her legs, thick and bulky, the heavy padding muting her pleasure like cotton in an ear. She gave an indignant squeal as she found herself diapered again. She gave the Master an outraged look.
     “There now… you’re all ready to go to bed!”
     “Now, young lady!” and with a snap of his fingers, she vanished.
     When she opened her eyes, Maggie was in a darkened room. Momentarily frightened and disoriented, she was blind until her eyes could adjust to the darkness. Feeling around her, she realized she was seated on a thick mattress, surrounded by soft pillows. She slowly stretched her hand out, quickly coming into contact with something solid. She touched it, put her fingers around it and ran them slowly down the entire length. Some kind of wooden bar, stretching from the base of the mattress and high above her—higher than she could stretch her arm from this seated position. There was a similar rail beside than one, and another and another…
     With a sinking heart, she realized where she was… her eyes adjusted to the dark, quickly confirming her suspicions… She’d been imprisoned in a giant crib! Outraged, Margret furiously punched the mattress. How dare they treat her like this?! Worse, she was still aroused from her diaper change. The physical arousal was still coursing through her, and the more she remembered her humiliation at the master’s hands, the stronger it became.
     Soon, she couldn’t contain it any longer… she reached down the front of her diapers and began to masturbate guiltily…
     Brittany squirmed under the Master’s gaze and that damn grin of his. “And last, but not least, we come to the very stinky Ms. Philips.”
     ‘Who’s he talking to?’ she wondered briefly, before remembering the audience at home. The realization just made her blush even harder.
     “First, let’s clear one thing up—although you no doubt don’t feel any difference, you’re now totally incontinent of both bowel and bladder.”
     “Oh God no!” she whined, breaking into sobs once more.
     “Oh yes!” he said, practically cackling with devilish delight, “and now you have a choice to make.”
     She looked up, sobbing and quivering. In his hand, he held a small, plastic square. She broke down once more when she realized it was a diaper. “No!” she cried, “please! I can’t wear that!”
     “I can’t make you, of course,” he replied, “but your housemates might not be too pleased with you leaving smelly puddles everywhere. So now you must choose:
     “You can go without diapers and instantly become the least popular girl in the house. Or, you can wear the diapers—but you will be unable to change yourself, and will be dependent on others to do it for you.”
     She cried even harder. This just wasn’t fair! “Please! I can’t wear diapers, I just can’t! I…” She trailed off, feeling a strange, warm tickling feeling below her waistband. She looked down and gasped at the large wet patch growing on the crotch of her shorts. She was wetting her pants!
     She grunted and moaned and sobbed, trying to clench up and re-gain some control, but it was no use, and Brittany could only stand there pissing down her legs until she was finished.
     She looked over to the master, who stood in front of the plastic mat expectantly. Inside Brittany was at war with herself—could she really allow herself to be put back in diapers? And go around begging changes from people? The thought was too awful to contemplate! Then again, did she really have another choice? He’d said she could fix herself if she got won another challenge… and if she alienated the other players by leaving “puddles,” she might not be around long enough to do that. She had to go along.
     Brittany forced herself to lie on the mat, whimpering as the mess squished beneath her. She lay back and tried not to squirm as he pealed her shorts and undies off, depositing them into the nearby trash. Brittany couldn’t help but think he was throwing away a piece of herself with them.
     She forced herself to lie still as he wiped her clean with the cool cloth, which she reluctantly admitted felt much better. She blushed when he lifted her legs to powder her tushy, realizing she must look just like one of the kids at daycare—and on national TV, too! It was by far the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to her.
     Before she knew it, the Master had her sealed in tightly. Brittany stood, looking down at herself in dismay… the diaper was huge and bulky and could surely contain any accidents she may have. But it crinkled loudly, made her butt stick out behind her, and was way too big to fit under any of her clothes. It was, in other words, totally infantile, and Brittany realized how ridiculous she must have looked, even before she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She looked like a beautiful, modern 23 year old woman… Except that down below her waist, she was wearing a massive, puffy diaper… one that looked exactly like something a baby in her daycare would wear.
     “Now off you go, young lady,” the Master said, delivering a hard swat to the beautiful blonde’s heavily padded rump, sending her running from the room, diapers crinkling loudly behind her. He watched her go, a broad grin on his face… And the best part was… this was just the beginning. He could hardly wait to see what tomorrow would bring.
Tune in next time for more spankings, more messy hi-jinks… and for our first vote, where you, the audience, decide who goes on and who leaves the show to begin her new life.

Tuesday, 20 November 2012

Day One Act Three

We're back!

     When Margret had returned to her seat, the Master once again addressed the contestants.
     “And now-- unless anyone else has any statements to make?” He looked around with a smirk as the women averted they’re eyes, none of them wanting to wind up on the receiving end of another one of his demonstrations. “I think it’s time we moved on to the first challenge.”
     At once the doors behind them flew open, making more than one contestant jump in her seat. The tension was unbearable as they watched an impossibly attractive woman in a lurid and sexy French maid’s uniform entered holding aloft a silver platter. Perched atop its polished surface were five immaculately crafted sherry glasses, which the maid distributed amongst the contestants, smiling placidly as they accepted them. The glasses were filled with a green solution, thick, creamy and almost syrupy. The contestants looked at it with reluctant expressions—even without knowing what it was, none of them wanted to drink it.
     “Ladies,” the master began theatrically, a devilish smile playing at his lips. “May I present, guaranteed to unblock the most stubborn clogs and loosen up even the tightest asses among you: Formula 666—the world’s most powerful laxative.”
     There was a stunned, disbelieving silence. The women examined the cloudy solution with wrinkled noses, shuddering at the implications.
     Alice was first to speak. “Surely you don’t mean for us to…”
     “That’s right ladies—down the hatch! The last to ‘go’ is declared winner and get’s a prize—anything she can imagine!”
     “What about the loser?” Brittany asked quietly, voice full of dread.
     “The first to fill her pants becomes incontinent. Permanently…”
     There was dead silence and palatable fear in the air. Each woman shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
     “…Unless,” he continued, “She wins a future competition and wishes herself back to normal.”
     “What if we wefuse?” Margret asked in her adorable lisp.
     “Then you’re out of the contest. I’m sure your friends in the women’s movement will take you back the way you are now,” he grinned, knowing it wasn’t true. “Heck, I may even make you incontinent before you leave, anyway, just for the fun of it!”
     Smiling, he crossed his arms. “I’m waiting, ladies…”
     Her throbbing backside kept Destiny silent, though she'd have liked nothing better than to scream, "Are you kidding?!" when she heard the challenge. He couldn't possibly be serious! But there he was, passing out those stupid tiny glasses of whatever. Her hand shook a little as she took it, eyes darting around the room to the other girls. Were they going to do it? Surely they had to see how insane this was, how ridiculous and juvenile.
     She considered not drinking it, just giving up her spot now and getting out of there while she still could, but she could feel her resolve grow as the countdown began. She'd already endured a spanking, after all - did she really want that to be for nothing? Besides, he couldn't really expect them to poop their pants! She had a feeling this was a bluff of some kind. It had to be!
     Lucy looked around at each of the girls in turn, horrified by what she had just witnessed. This man, this master, whoever, whatever he was, could do some amazing things. Things she wanted no part of. But she couldn't leave. That wasn't fair to the others, and it would more than likely lead to something horrible happening to her too. A smell of innocence, that's what the master had said... so, maybe these girls weren't innocent? Were they criminals maybe? Lucy shook her head, chasing away the thoughts and slowly raised the glass to her lips. If this is what my sister would have had to do, then I better do it too.     
     Maggie heard The Master issue the challenge and it was so surreal it almost didn’t register. Before her recent demotion to toddlerhood, the fearless Ms Stern would have tried to lead her sisters in a solid refusal to comply with the orders; but in her new wardrobe the only thing she was fit to lead was a stuffed animal tea party. She didn't want to take the laxative but as the others contestants grimly consumed it she knew she could not afford to be singled out after her recent crushing humiliation. Reluctantly, she raised the glass to her lips and downed the thick, putrid liquid; she began to tremble, feeling real fear for the first time in a long time. She felt her remaining hubris and self respect drain from her as she took the laxative and emptied the glass.
     Brittany swallowed back the thick, creamy liquid, gagging at the taste. To her dismay, she noticed the thick, gooey concoction was sticking to her tongue. “Bllek! That stuff tastes awful,” she whined, smacking her lips together and lashing her tongue against the roof of her mouth to try and expunge it’s horrible flavor from her mouth.
     Destiny realized as she felt her insides churning, that it wasn’t a bluff. She looked around at the other contestants, looking for a sign that they were in just as much, if not more, distress than her, but if they were, they seemed to be hiding it better, probably because they didn't have a freshly-tanned bottom making them feel especially helpless. 
     Lucy drained the glass, grimacing at the taste of the strange concoction. Nothing to do now but wait I suppose, Lucy thought to herself, watching the others drain and lower their glasses one by one. If these were laxatives, like the master had said, then surely he'd provide restroom facilities for the guests... surely?
     'Oh, God,' Destiny whimpered to herself, wrapping her arms around her churning stomach. 'Don't let me be the first one!' If he had really given them laxatives, and had really spanked her and baby-fied Margret, she had no doubt he would make the loser incontinent. She looked frantically over at Margret, and the bulging diaper between her legs. She couldn't wear one of those! She'd never get an acting job if she had to wear big, baggy clothes all the time to try to hide that!
     Brittany forced herself to sit ramrod straight in her seat, sweating and clenching her cheeks, her buttocks gripping each other as tightly as a drowning man clutching a life-preserver. She thought about every disgusting dirty diaper she had ever changed. The idea that she might someday be the one with the big, gooey load in the seat of her pants had never occurred to her. Things like this weren’t supposed to happen to girls who were as pretty as her. She imagined how it would feel with a big, stinky pile in her pants… With a grunt, she redoubled her efforts to stay clean.
     Lucy's stomach gurgled disdainfully as she felt the green liquid make its way through her system. Bending forward, she grasped at her stomach, a sharp pain rushing through her tummy. "Excuse me... umm Master, sir. Umm... where would the facilities be located, please?" Always be polite, that's what her mother had taught her, and even if he was rude in return, at least she had asked.
     “The facilities are off limits until the end of the contest, Ms. Smith,” the master explained with a smile.
     Lucy went pale. “You mean…?”
     “Potties are for winners, dear,” he smiled, delighting as Lucy turned white and crossed her legs.    
     Margret clenched her buns and shifted in her seat, the thick diaper shifting beneath her. The Master’s threat to make the loser diaper dependent for life didn't sound plausible-- but nothing that had happened so far could be deemed plausible. Hell, she thought, an hour ago I wouldn’t have thought it “plausible” that I’d be sitting here dressed up like an oversized Betsy Wetsy doll, but…
     The room went silent but for the occasional gasp, grunt or moan, and the almost constant shifting of legs. Suddenly, there emerged an enormously noisy fart, louder than a whoopee cushion blasted into a megaphone. There was a gasp, and all eyes turned to adorable Lucy, who sat blushing.
     “’Scuse me,” she whispered, drawing chuckles from her fellow contestants.
    The master came to her side. “Lucy…” he asked sternly, “did you have an accident?”
     She shook her head stiffly, but the Master simply pulled her forward in her seat a bit, reached behind her and pulled out the waistband of her pants. She realized with a blush that he was checking her panties like she was a toddler with a loaded diaper!
     “Nope, still clean,” he chuckled, letting the waistband snap back across Lucy’s buns and making her yelp.
     Maggie had strong digestive system as a vegan health nut and hoped she could hold strong but a queasy churning started swiftly and she began to sweat and shift in her seat from one position to another as her ridiculous crinolines swished and swayed nosily.
     Brittany was grunting softly to herself, her hair matted to her face with sweat. She knew she couldn’t hold out much longer—but she couldn’t poop her pants; she just couldn’t! She hadn’t yet considered the possibility that she could wind up incontinent… but with an impending mess ready to explode into the seat of her pants, she was now forced to confront grim reality. With mounting horror, she thought about having to go through life like one of the kids she took care off. As disgusting as the thought of having “accidents” in her pants was,  it was nowhere near as frightening to her as the thought of being out of control… of being so helpless she literally couldn’t even keep her pants clean.
     She felt a sharp cramp followed by a noisy gurgle from her stomach. She squealed and shot up out of her seat, legs crossed tightly. She reached behind herself and clutched her backside, hopping from foot to foot in a desperate potty dance, squeezing her cheeks together with all her might. “Oh god,” She moaned desperately.
      Brittany’s expression went blank… a massive, mushy farting noise came from the seat of her shorts drawing looks from the other contestants. Brittany gasped, feeling a slick wetness between her cheeks. She knew all was lost—that it was mere prelude to what was coming next. Sill she fought, grunting and clenching her cheeks as tightly as they’d go. She could feel the others watching her like buzzards, just waiting for her to go first so they could end their own torment.
     She redoubled her efforts, putting everything she had into one last mighty clench of her buns. If she could just hold out a tad longer…. She strained and moaned and grunted: ‘Uh! Ah! Oh! Ee!”
     There was a noisy, gaseous explosion—Brittany screeched as she began to mess herself uncontrollably, the poopy load surging wetly into the back of her pants with a noisy bubbling fart. She grunted, another bowel spasm pushing out further mushy mess into her pants.
     “Oh my god!” she moaned, barely restraining the urge to retch as she felt the load squish into the seat of her pants. She could feel it there, all hot and gooey and mushy… It plastered her cheeks and filled her crack. Worse, the stench was incredible, enveloping her in the wretched, poopy smell she knew and hated so much. “Eeewww!” she cried, her hands flapping uselessly in front of her like wounded birds.
     She turned to the master, tears beginning to streak her face. “Please let me try again!” She begged. “Please don’t make me incontinent! Please give another chance!”
     The master smiled. “Sorry sweetie… but you know I can’t do that!”
     “But it’s not fair!” Brittany whined, stomping a foot in frustration. “This can’t happen to me! I…” There was another gurgle, another sharp cramp in her stomach, and a sickening fullness in her rump. “Oh no!” she cried, moments before she doubled over, eliciting another nasty, mushy load with a sizable fart. The weight in her underwear doubled, and Brittany broke down into defeated sobs.
     Destiny groaned as a cramp hit her, doubling her over. The end was already quite near, she could tell. She watched the other girls, who were starting to show signs of distress, but, she thought, not nearly as much as she was. Tears started to well up in her eyes again at the unfairness of it all. Why had she even come here?! She should have just stayed home! She'd already gotten spanked, and she was about to mess her pants, and...
     She let out a sigh of relief as she saw the seat of Brittany's pants expand outward, rendering her the loser. She felt a little sorry for her, but she was glad it wasn't her, especially since it was a matter of moments before the next cramp hit her, and she felt her body betray her, filling her already slightly wet panties with a pile of warm mush, pushed firmly against her red bottom by her tight shorts. She didn't want to announce what had just happened, but she couldn't help a disgusted, "Eww!" escaping from her mouth as her nose wrinkled. She could feel the mess squishing out of her panties and into her shorts, which she was sure were showing the stain quite well, and were now ruined.
     Destiny felt very much like a naughty little kid. She'd been spanked, and had an accident in her pants, and now she felt like she was about to be pulled in front of her mother by her babysitter and forced to confess, so she could get another spanking. Except, of course, that this was what she was supposed to do. Without a bathroom, this was what they all had to do. She didn't know what the Game Master's deal was, but he was obviously a very sick person, with a lot of power. And, like it or not, she was under his control. On TV. She had just pooped her pants on television. She couldn't help but feel a little sick at that, but what was worse was she had no idea what else she was going to find herself subjected to here.
     It was not long until Margret’s resistance failed and she pooped her diaper. On some level Maggie was grateful for the diaper and the limited privacy the full but short petticoats gave. Here she was: Ms. Stern, the most feared and vocal voice in a new wave of militant feminism having a poopy accident in an infantile party dress on national TV. She knew her career could never recover. She had crossed over from a role model and icon to a contemptible punch line.
     Lucy gasped, the pain moving downwards, tears forming in her eyes. With a large gas emission, Lucy voided her bowels, messing her panties completely. Tears flowed from her eyes, upset at having lost, certain she had been the first one out. Slowly raising her head, Lucy looked around the room, only to see Brittany in a much worse state.
     She sighed with relief. Maybe she wasn't the first one to lose. Standing up, she awkwardly walked towards Brittany, the load in her pants feeling disgusting as she moved. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she hesitantly asked, "Are you okay?"
     Brittany gave her a piteous look of fear and confusion. “I had to go….” She finally declared quietly.
     The Master howled with laughter, a cacophony of farting and squishing erupting throughout the room, savoring the expression as each prissy, snooty woman unloaded explosively into her panties (or diaper in poor Maggie’s case.) They were each disgusted and humiliated… but he also knew each one was thankful, safe in the knowledge that they were still better off than poor Brittany.
     Every eye in the room went to Alice. The tough business woman was living up to her reputation—aside from looking slightly sweaty, disheveled, and stiff; she gave no outward sign of her discomfort aside for the occasional shift in her seat. She looked like she’d had to walk up a few flights of stairs or had to run to catch a train… looking at her, you would have never guessed the immaculately dressed beauty was struggling to contain a massive load of explosive diarrhea.
     “Ladies and Gentlemen,” the Master smirked, “looks like we have a winner!”
     The other contestants looked on jealously, vividly aware of the big, stinky loads in their pants.  The Master smiled at Alice. “Now, my dear,” he said, “what is your fondest wish?”
     She looked up at him, sweat dribbling down her face. She was trying to maintain her dignity, but she was shifting and squirming at an almost constant rate now. “Potty,” she finally managed quietly, her frantic desperation increasing by the second.
     “I’m sorry, my dear, could you repeat that a little louder?” The Master asked sadistically.
     “Potty!” Alice shouted. “Oh, dear sweet God, someone please get me something to poop in!”
     “Your wish is my command,” The Master said whimsically, snapping his fingers. In an instant, an over sized pink plastic potty appeared in the center of the room. All eyes were once again on the horrified Alice.
     The potty looked so inviting, innocently so… but people were watching, possibly millions. She could hear her stomach gurgle and the heavy, burning weight in her rump was getting too intense. Sweat dripped down her  neck, running down her  back, sending a shiver along her spine, forcing her to straighten momentarily. Such a mistake, the pressure off her back causes the poor tightly clenched but failing ring of muscle to flex, just enough for a small trickle of sticky, oozing mess to venture out against the barrier of the cloth. Terror, cold and plain, riveted her to the spot; she could feel the damp, hot spot, sticking to her behind, made worse by sweat and the knowledge that many eyes watching. Alice began to tremble, holding on for this long was certainly not good for the system, she knew.  ‘Then get rid of it!’ a small voice echoed in the back of her mind, the voice of primal, uncaring human nature. ‘Just take a shit! Who cares who sees?!’
     ‘I care!” Her ego cried. Clenching harder, the clock ticking, time running out, Alice tried to decide if she had enough strength left for a run to the bathroom. ‘I’m a strong, professional woman, they can't break me!’ The rumbling intensified within, the walls of her bowels were rebelling against her, her straining buns trembling, glistening with sweat... The wet, sticky gob between them gooey between her buttocks, she was vividly aware that the main load would feel worse so much worse. But the potty would fix that, no mess, no terrible sticky feeling, just cool, clean relief… with millions of eyes watching, through their TVs, through computer, iphones, in their home, workplaces, on the subways, each with a front row seat to her humiliation.
     Limping across stage, in front of the camera, the other remain contestants and the Game Master, Alice popped the button on her beautiful designer jeans and pull them to her ankles, kicking them off across the room. Now standing in her underwear, a blush spread across her cheeks; she knew there must be a stain showing at the back of her silk panties. The action of removing her pants, compressed her stomach, increasing her urge. The potty sat before her, innocent, sturdy and horrifying. She could barely take in her surrounding as she carefully swung a leg over the plastic bowl. Misjudging the distance, she fumbled while sitting-- a fatal mistake. She felt her butt cheeks spread, a cue for her poor abuse anus to release. Time slowed; as she attempted to reposition herself, a heavy gush squirted forth, narrowly missing the bowl of the potty and leaking down the side. She barely notice as even this small piece of relief was heavenly, certainly enough to overcome her embarrassment. Alice slammed her backside down hard on the bowl, feeling the cold comfort of the plastic against her ass, not even caring for the sticky, foul smelling mess that had seeped the side of the chair and now smeared her left leg. Alice settled in and simply let go.
     Alice exploded. The tiny hole at her base relaxed and the pent up ooze bubbles forth in a cacophony of gas and splattering thuds into the waterless depths of the potty. She could feel the soft, gooey mess erupting forcefully out and past her body to hit the plastic bowl beneath her, pooling there, with heat creeping up and warming her poor abused bum. It was heaven-- even the foul-smelling bursts of gas which accompanied it brought sweet relief. And it just kept coming! Wave after wave, with cramps rising and subsiding, a small leak of her bladder causing a gush which drenched the filth in the bowl, adding more to the heap. As the cramps finally subsided, a stench began to rise from the bowl. She took a deep breath, realization suddenly sinking in—‘I just took the biggest, most explosive crap of my life—and the entire country was watching!” Cheeks burning red, eyes thick with tears she looked up and spoke. “I'm finished…”

We'll be back after these important messages!

Wednesday, 7 November 2012

Day One-- Act Two

Act One


“Well, this is just typical.” Margret’s voice was clear and crisp in the room, which was silent but for Destiny’s choked sobs. “Another testosterone addled bully who thinks he can cow and control us with physical violence!”

     “Baby, maybe you didn’t notice, but I didn’t lift a finger,” The Master said smoothly. “I didn’t even move from this spot.”

     She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. You have no right to paddle Destiny’s fat butt—even if she is a decadent slut and a patriarchal stooge within the entertainment industry.” Destiny glared at her, tears still streaking her face as she shifted uncomfortably on her hard seat.  “You’re a bully and a coward and we aren’t going to stand for it!”
     The other contestants looked down at the floor and pretended they weren’t listening. After what happened to Destiny, there was no way anyone was taking any chances by throwing in with this goofball.
     “Very well, Margret,” The Master said with a smile, “perhaps you’d like to come up to the front of the room and tell everyone your grievances?”
     “Gladly,” she said, rising from her seat. The Game Master stepped aside and watched with a grin.
     Still sniffling and squirming on her chair, Destiny found it hard not to feel vulnerable as this woman had called further attention to her own humiliating plight. So she couldn't help feeling a twinge of satisfaction as she was called forward, sure she was about to endure something just as mortifying. 
     Margret stood before the audience, feeling a slight trill at having so effectively stolen the spotlight from the So-Called Master. Clearing her throat, she began to speak. “I know you all think shows like this are just harmless entertainment, but they do real damage to our society in general and the advancement of women in particular…”
     God, thought Destiny, this bitch is just asking for it.
     “By putting us up on display wike dis, we awre weduced to the wevel of childwen.” Margret stopped and touched her throat. What the hell was that? She could see the word clearly, but suddenly she was lisping like a child. Now her fellow contestants were paying attention, each one watching her out of some morbid fascination. Clearing her throat, she pressed on.
     "Male dominated social constwucts ultimately wead to dese fawcical ciwcumstances..." Margret stopped, dumbstruck; her previously confident and domineering voice now sounded like a lispy parody of Shirley Temple on the verge of a tantrum. A humiliating blush rose to Margret's haughtily aristocratic cheeks. Being a control freak, Margret was completely unaccustomed to the situation. Around her, her fellow contestants were tittering, and Margret could only shift and squirm.
     “I—um—dat is…” she cringed when she heard them chuckling at her. It was a strange, awful feeling. Like a drunk, knowing exactly what needed to be said but unable to form the words without slurring, Margret knew exactly what she wanted to say but couldn’t say it without sounding like the shy little girl she’d spent her whole life trying not to be.
     “It’s like one of those dreams, isn’t it Margret?” the Master said smoothly. “You show up late for an important test… but then you realize you didn’t put any clothes on…”
      She wondered briefly what the hell he was talking about when she felt a chill. The other contestants were watching her and tittering in amazement. Hesitantly, she looked down at herself, squealing when she suddenly realized her butch business clothes had vanished and she was as naked as a newborn baby. She let out a shrill shriek that was reminiscent of bimbos she mocked and hated.
     There was a strange tingling sensation in her scalp, followed by a growing weight around her skull. She could feel something tickle her ears and the back of her neck. She reached up quickly and felt something soft and glossy hanging there. Catching sight of herself in a nearby mirror, Margret was stunned and mortified to see that her trademark little boy crop was growing into a shimmering mane of big, puffy bouffant banana curls in the most trashy shade of platinum blonde. "How-- why did oo do dis?' Margret stammered feeling further shame over her squeaky little voice 
     "You don't like it?" The Master replied sardonically. "That short ‘do was holding you back you’re such a pretty little thing and it suits your new voice so much better. You would make someone a wonderful housewife with some further changes your vegan diet and fitness obsession has left you skinny and androgynous—why, your body’s as flat and boyish as your silly old haircut".
     She felt the tingle spreading below and  a strange pressure inside her. A tightness appeared in her chest. She looked down, realizing that her breasts were beginning to swell. She forced herself to look over into the mirror. She let out a squeal when she saw that her breasts had ballooned into the b-cup range and heading for c territory quickly. She made a series of horrified squeaks as she watched her six pack disappear, her tummy becoming soft and just a little flabby, critically wounding Margret's ego and self image as her pride and joy six pack abs were replaced by a cute, pudgy pot belly. The tingling pressure descended even further, and Margret let out a horrified squeal when she saw her hips surge outwards. She turned to the side and watched, slack jawed, as her flat, bony rump began to inflate, each cheek quickly swelling to the size of half a basket ball and beyond, with no end in sight.
     Margret's mouth gaped open in a perfect impersonation of a vacant mallrat bimbo as she saw in the mirror her hips widen her buttocks swell to a fatness where you could she them from the front.
     She now had a derriere which made Kim Kardashian look anorexic, perfectly proportional to her new breasts, so big and beautiful they’d make a porn star weep. Margret, unbalanced from the changes and unaccustomed to the new weight both in front of and behind her, lost her balance and fell cutely on to her over-cushioned rump. Tears were flowing down her face-- she hadn't cried in years, but that didn’t stop her from bawling like a little girl. Not even the knowledge that there were potentially millions of people watching her transformation into the living embodiment of the repressive feminine ideal, but also bawling about it like a little girl who just lost her ice cream.
     "It's not fair..." Margret wailed like a spoiled preschool Princess having a moronic hissy fit.
     "Margret whatever’s the matter? Your childbearing hips and fleshy curves are the height of fashion, Christina Hendricks, Kim Kardashian and Coco are the biggest stars on television!" The Master interjected evenly.
     "I fucking hate dose twaitors to feminism!" The foul strident language was delightfully incongruous to the cute babyish voice.
     "Oh presumably you’re worried those old, manly clothes won't fit and i agree that would be unfair if I hadn't bought you an even more expensive wardrobe of extravagant little girl frocks" The Master spoke with mocking kindness.
       Climbing to her feet, Margret heard a loud rustle. Turning toward the mirror, she nearly fainted when she discovered she was wearing an ultra short, ultra full, chiffon party frock in a pale pink , the tight puffed out sleeves pinch hard on her pudgy baby fat arms. Its shortness was increased by a mass of outdated net petticoats, displaying a round, jiggley rump that was made even more comically oversized than before due to the presence of an ultra-thick adult diaper and nearly transparent ruffled rhumba panties.
     On her head sat a jeweled tiara, the epitome of the decadent, aristocratic excess she long ago rejected. On her feet where ostentatious mink trimmed boots, a terrible insult to Margret's animal rights activism.
     "Well, that was a very good attempt to enlighten your sisters and put us men in our place, but you have to go sit back down with your BIG sisters dearest Maggie" The Master said patronizingly with a playful swat of her jiggly backside for emphasis. Margret looked at him with pure hatred, but with her new look frankly that just made look cute as a button. She was seething with rage but reasoned she needed a retreat to collect her thoughts and think of a plan; ideally a plan that ended up the so called 'master' strapped to a rubber sheeted gurney going to the feminist activist infiltrated hospitable she work with for orchiectomy. Margret's ego and hatred of men was so strong a glimmer of confidence and a desire to fight was returning.
     Destiny watched Margret slink back to her chair, gleeful. It was just what that bitch deserved, she thought to herself, glancing back up to get a glimpse of the girl toddling back to her seat. But her face began to fall as she realized the implications of what had just happened. Sure, Margret had deserved it, but if it could happen to her, it could happen to anyone. And Destiny knew that what this Game Master, whoever or whatever he was, was doing wasn't just some trick. Believe it or not - and she wouldn't have, without her firsthand experience - he was a wizard of some kind, and if he wanted, he could turn every one of them into overgrown toddlers at his whim. 
     Suddenly, Margret's punishment seemed a little less funny. 


Monday, 5 November 2012

From The Humble Games Archives: Suki Saga, Biker Queen of Tokyo

   Hello again all!
     Thanks so much for the outpouring of attention and support—It really means a lot to me that people are out there enjoying what we’re doing. Keep those comments coming and feel free to leave comments for the contestants—you may even get a reply.
     At the Humble Games, we look for contestants from all walks of live. We’ve had women from almost every occupation hailing from every corner of the world: Teachers, doctors, lawyers, police officers, models, housewives, students, military personal, CEOs—even a belly dancer.
     But even by our standards, Suki Saga was unique—undisputed ruler of the Cobras, a legendary gang of rowdies on wheels, and at their peak one of the most powerful criminal organization in Japan. Suki’s father had been a founding member, a fact she’d leveraged to gain entrance to the gang at just 16. By 23 she was running it. Three years later, she’d established the Cobras as the underworld’s courier of choice… since she’d either wiped out the competition or taken them under the Cobras banner. They ran everything everywhere, across the island and beyond, and made a nice percentage off every transaction.
     Compared to all that, she must’ve thought our little game would be a cakewalk.
     How wrong she was…
     Arriving late, Suki stormed in wearing full leathers, tracking mud across my floor and scowling at the other players. She was lewd, loud, and uncouth during the introduction, she smoked and drank, and attempted to bully the other players.

     She may have been cute… but beneath she was a little demon. But if there’s one thing the master loves, it’s a challenge…
     “Excuse me, Ms. Saga,” I said reasonably, “there’s no drinking allowed during the competitions...”
     She snorted derisively. “Loosen up, grandma,” she sneered in perfect English, taking another swig from her flask.
     “It’s no joke, Ms. Saga,” I said urgently, “it would be unfortunate if you had an accident.
     She smirked. “Now I know you aren’t talking to me! Worry about these other stupid little bitches—I can hold my alcohol!” Then, to demonstrate, she put the flask to her lips, tilted her head back and proceeded to chug.
    I smiled and said nothing. On the outside, I made no move.
     A small, dark stain appeared on the front of Suki’s cut-offs. It started to grow, getting wider and wider as streams of urine started running down her legs and gather at her feet like a puddle. Oblivious, she continued chugging the contents of her flask—and the more she gulped down, the faster she peed down her legs, until she’d emptied both the flask and her bladder.
     She took the flask from her lips with a satisfied “AAHH!” she stared at me for a moment, smirking an arrogant, as if to say ‘what’re you gonna do about it?”
Slowly, she realized that something was wrong. The smile evaporated… she realized she was standing in a puddle. Hesitantly, she looked down and give a loud, squawk of displeasure when she realized she’d wet her pants.
     She reached down comically to cover up, but it was too late and of little use anyway… Suki’s pants were soaked through and her legs glistened with pee. Blushing bright red, the other contestants giggling around her, shifting from foot to foot in a puddle of her own creation, Suki shot me a pleading look.
     “Well,” I said, crossing my arms, “we’ve made rather a mess here, haven’t we young lady?”
     She looked at me, her cocky sneer replaced by a shocked ‘o’. Taking her hand, I lead her out of the puddle and began stripping her. She was shocked and nearly protested, but a look from me rendered her silent.
     “Look at you,” I chided. “I told you something like this was going to happen!”
     She looked at the floor and blushed furiously when I used her own shirt to clean her off. Once that was done, I pulled her toward a chair on the other side of the room, took a seat, and pulled her across my lap.
     “You bad little girl!” I admonished, beginning her spanking before the gaping crowd. “I explicitly warned you what was going to happen and you deliberately ignored me.”
     “I’m sorry! Owww!” she whined, pumping her legs in a futile attempt at escape. Her rump quivered and jiggled beneath my spanks, and soon her bottom had turned pink. The other players gathered around to titter at the tough biker girl sob and kick across my knee as she took a spanking.
     Her tough girl persona in tatters, Suki kicked and howled and cried as I warmed her butt like a misbehaving child. She begged and pleaded and whined, but I held firm and delivered a spanking that she wasn’t likely to forget.
     Finally, after I’d turned her butt bright red, I finally let her go. She leapt from my lap and launched into a furious war-dance, prancing rapidly from foot to foot and rubbing her spanked bottom. The other contestants looked on and jeered (conveniently forgetting it could have been one of them.) She ooo’ed and aahh’ed, kneading her stinging rump and continuing her silly dance.
     I gave her a few more moments, enjoying the show, before I grabbed her arm. “Come along” I instructed, propelling her forward with a swat on her still stinging bum. She yelped and allowed herself to be lead toward one of the many fully stocked changing tables I have throughout my home. “Up you go,” I said, lifting her to its padded surface. She squirmed uncomfortably on her freshly spanked bottom. “Lie back,” I instructed, retrieving my supplies from beneath the table. She reluctantly followed my instructions, and in moments I had her by the ankles, her legs hoisted high in the air, her tight, round bum exposed to the room, and slipped a big disposable diaper under her tushy.
     Taking a large palm full of Vaseline, I began to work it into her rump, massaging it into her buns and rubbing it into her crack. Suki could only moan and groan helplessly in response. Next came the powder, on both her crotch and her butt, which I patted in firmly. I lowered her rump, still warm and glowing from its recent spanking, down to the soft cloth below it, letting her savor the sensation a moment before I pulled it up between her legs and taping it up—effectively trapping her in pampers.
     I helped her to her feet; by now the other contestants were openly laughing at her misfortune, and with good cause—the bulky, crinkly diaper looked just like an oversized pamper—but Suki’s ample breasts left no doubt that she was indeed a full grown adult diapered like an infant. I popped a pacifier into her mouth, and her make-over was complete. Shifting from foot to foot, she blushed and stared at the floor as the others laughed and applauded.
     “Now Suki,” I said firmly. “I hope your experiences here have taught you a valuable lesson about treating other people with respect. But just in case it hasn’t…” I said with a grin.
     And with a snap of my fingers, she vanished into thin air…

     For Suki, it was instantaneous—one moment she was in my living room, and before she could even blink, there she was, standing out in front of the Cobras’ clubhouse in Tokyo like she’d never left. Had it all been some crazy dream? She smiled at the thought, happy that she wouldn’t have to live out the rest of her life as an oversized toddler.
     “What the fuck?!” she heard someone exclaimed. Laughter quickly followed, first from one person, then from an entire group. She looked toward the noise and realized it was several of her underlings in the gang—openly laughing in her direction.
     Feeling the bile rising inside her, Suki made her way over to them and attempted to demand an answer. “MMupftha huck ‘oo llaau’hn aapp?” She demanded, drawing more laughter. Something had been shoved into her mouth… and she felt a cold chill when she realized it was a pacifier.
     She looked down at herself and realized she was dressed as she’d been when she’d left the Mansion—nothing but a pair of thin booties and a big bulky diaper. She squealed in embarrassment—if the gang saw her like this, they’d never take her seriously again!
     But it was too late... more and more members were coming out to see what the fuss was about.
     “Holy shit,” she heard someone say, “is that Suki!?”
     The gang gathered around, and suddenly Suki was very nervous… there was no way anyone was taking her commands seriously like this! Her stomach began doing summersaults.
    “Lookin’ good, boss!” she heard someone say, drawing derisive laughter.
     “Looks like our ‘queen’ has been keeping secrets from us.”
     “Think we should keep her on as a mascot!” one suggested, drawing cheers.
     Suki grew more and more nervous. I’d made her sensitive to stress, and upon hearing the suggesting and the cheers it brought, she felt her bowels lurch into action. The urge to defecate came quickly and grew uncontrollable as fast as it appeared. With her laughing former comrades watching in disbelief, Suki bent her knees, stuck out her butt, and began to noisily mess her diaper. The bikers first laughed, then groaned and took a collective step back as the stench began to emerge.
     As for Suki, she futilely tried to regain control. But her newly acquired stress-induced incontinence had left her without control, and she could only cry as she uncontrollably grunted out another mess. There was a sticky squelching, and the seat of her diaper began to visibly inflate.
     Now finished, she straightened. Behind her, the diaper was lumpy and saggy, a brown stain beginning to show through. Tears streaming down her face, she looked to her gang for understanding.
     “PU! I think maybe you should get on your bike and ride, Suki,” suggested one of them. The crowd parted… what Suki saw made her cry even harder.
     In her private parking space right out in front of the club, she notice that her pride and joy, the classic Vincent Riptide she’d restored with her own two hands was gone. In its place stood a tiny, yellow and black tricycle; Suki exploded into tears.
     One of the bikers brought the trike over and set it in front of her. Suki stared at it in horror—how could everything have gone so wrong?
     “C’mon sweetie, get that stinky butt on there,” admonished one of the bikers, giving her a firm, open palmed swat to the seat of her dirty diapers. Slowly, reluctantly, she forced herself onto the seat, her stomach rolling as she felt the warm, mushy mess squishing against her rump.
     And so, bawling and with a massive, mushy load in the seat of her diaper, Suki took off peddling into the night, the derisive laughter of the bikers ringing out behind her. Progress was slow on the tiny bike, with Suki’s knees coming up to her chest and the messy load squishing and spreading under her, making her stomach roll even without the foul stench, but soon she was out of sight.
      And that’s how the police found her.
     The situation made front-page news, of course. Soon the pictures of Suki sporting a messy diaper with her tricycle was on every TV station in the country.
     She was deemed unfit for trial (a notion re-enforced by the fact that she became so nervous she shit herself every time someone even mentioned the possibility of going to prison to her) and remanded to the custody of her stern mother, where she remains to this day, still diapered 24/7, still paddled for misbehavior.
     But on the plus side, she still has her tricycle to remind her of better times…