From The Humble Games Archives: Contessa Antonia Regina Di Serpieri

     Greetings once again, Humble Heads!

     This will, of course, be the first time the Humble Games will be filmed and broadcast for the entertainment of you fine folks at home… but did you know this isn’t the first Humble Games?

     I established the games for my own amusement far more years ago than I’d care to remember. At first the girls were local peasants, and while it was entertaining to transform them into helpless, babbling adult infants, there was something missing.

     I made my living in those days as a wise man and a healer, traveling to the homes of the rich and powerful to offer advice and medical treatment for a small (OK, large) donation of silver and gold. (And sometimes, if I couldn’t find any business, I’d cook some up myself, but anyway…)

     Word of my achievements spread throughout the old world like wildfire, eventually reaching the ears of the young Contessa Antonia Regina Di Serpieri. Rumors at the time said that the Contessa was the most beautiful woman in Italy, possibly in the whole of Europe; and baby, the rumors didn’t exaggerate.  Lovely and dark-eyed, the Contessa had been orphaned at 16 and inherited a shipping empire that spanned the globe and swelled her bank accounts like a tick. At 23, she had the world on a string— an army of servants dedicated to ensuring her comfort and happiness every second of every day, palatial homes throughout the old and new worlds, and an inexhaustible supply of money. And, as you can probably imagine, it made the Contessa what people would today call “socially maladjusted, aggressive, and narcissistic,” and what people at the time called “a spoiled brat in need of a warm backside.” Needless to say, when I received a note summoning me to her sprawling villa in the Italian countryside, it was more than my curiosity that was  piqued.

     I made the journey as quickly as possible, assuming there must have been some emergency. I was quite annoyed to arrive in the dead heat of the mid-July sunlight to find the Contessa the picture of health, wandering the garden in a silken gown, attended by a team of cowering, simpering maids. She looked me up and down, a lazy smile playing on her full sensuous lips. She was, I’m quite sure, the most spankable woman in the world—an opinion that, being a gentleman, I resisted the urge to share with her.

     We retired inside. I attempted to shift the conversation to the business at hand, asking her what urgent issues she had called me away from my own pressing business (it isn’t easy taking care of five full grown babies, after all.) But the Contessa insisted on tea first, making mindless small talk and regarding me with that infuriating, lazy smirk, asking me about the trip and how my business was, and did I know Lord and Lady Suchandsuch from Whereeveritis, and already I could sense her toying with me.

     Finally, we came around to the business at hand. The Contessa apologized for her ruse, but it was necessary to get me there as quickly as possible so that she could make me her offer.

     My ears perked up… and what offer might that be? I asked.

     Her lazy smile widened her eyes like deep, warm pools of tar. In her accented but otherwise flawless English, she expressed her desire for me to come and join her staff—full time. She painted a rosy picture of traveling the world and tending her empire with me by her side, her faithful advisor and personal physician, offering her advice and tending to her needs (“In business and beyond,” she promised lustily.)

     Dear readers—I won’t lie and tell you that the offer was tempting—and gazing at this vision of loveliness, her succulent body and hauntingly beautiful features (not the mention that she had the money to buy two of everything in existence) I nearly relented. But I knew in my heart it just wasn’t for me… I’m too much of a free spirit at heart, given to odd whims and strange appetites… in other words, not the domestic sort.

     I explained my position to the Contessa… but she didn’t see it my way. First she insisted, her smile growing wider, her platitudes growing warmer. Then, once it became obvious that I couldn’t be bought, she pouted and fumed. Her smile dried up, and her warm brown eyes became narrow pits of lava. She snapped at me for wasting her time (as though she’d had to leave her home to trek across the country side for a meeting under false pretences) then began implying that I in some way owed her.

     Last came the threats—if I refused to take her up on her offer to join her staff, she would pull some strings and see me imprisoned. And it was then that I got annoyed.

     In those days, I shunned overt displays of my abilities in public lest I draw any unwanted attention—especially in a situation where there was money to be made. And yet here I was—confronted by a woman who could surely qualify as one of the naughtiest and most spoiled in the entire world, who would wield her power and influence against me. Had I not used my abilities on far less deserving targets for far less outrages than this?

     “You drive a hard bargain my dear.” I said with a smile, “but so be it— I agree to your terms. Gather the staff so that we may inform them of this new arrangement.” Delighted at having gotten her way, she summoned the head maid and dispatched her gather the staff in the parlor.  She produced a series of contracts and an elegant pen, and she grinned like the Cheshire Cat as I signed them.

     When we arrived, the entire staff, from the maids and cooks to the gardeners, had been gathered in the front room. The Contessa stepped forward, about to introduce me, but I stopped her. “Please allow me, my darling,” I said, taking the back of her hand and kissing it gently.

     “My friends,” I said, stepping forward to address the group, “I am Contessa Di Serpieri’s personal physician and business advisor. It is my sad duty to report that the Contessa has contracted a rare illness and will be unable to attend to her estate and her business affairs for the foreseeable future. Until she is able to return to her position, I will be overseeing all business matters and attending to her health personally.”

     “WHAT?!” the Contessa cried “What are you trying to pull, you poltroon?” she demanded hotly, her eyes blazing furiously.

     “Now now, darling,” I admonished gently, “you’ll aggravate your condition.”

     “’Condition?!’ Just what are you referring to, sir?! I have a good mind to contact the authorities and have you thrown into—”

     A dark stain began spreading across the front of her dress. The Contessa could only gasp and blush as she watched a puddle beginning to spread beneath her feet. The staff looked on—some mystified, some horrified, other just delighted.

     “What—but—no—” she stammered, looking confused.

     “Silly girl,” I admonished, “I told you that was going to happen.”

     I dispatched one of the maids to find a mop and then, In front of the shocked, giggling staff, I stripped the Contessa nude and took her by the hand, leading her over to a nearby fainting couch. “Don’t dawdle sweetheart,” I admonished giving her bare, jiggling rump a swat, sending ripples of delight through the staff.

     From my bag I took a blanket and laid it on the sofa. “Come on, sweetheart—up you go…” I said, giving her another sharp spank. She looked at me, her eyes wide, confusion, humiliation and fear swimming across her face as she complied. “Would the maid staff please step forward?” I said, smiling at the young ladies and their nervous hesitation—would they wind up like their employer?

     “I will require assistance with the Contessa’s care,” I explained, “so please watch closely—although I sure some of you may have some experience with this,” I said, reaching into my satchel and removing a large, cotton diaper. There was much giggling all around as I took the Contessa’s ankles and lifted her legs into the air, exposing her bare bum to the entire room, and slid the diaper under her tushy.

     Though thoroughly humiliated in front of the entire staff by this point, there was still enough arrogance and entitlement left in the Contessa for one last angry outburst: “You can’t do this to me, you oaf! I’ll spend my entire fortune ruining you! I’ll—” but before she could finish her thought, I shoved a pacifier into her mouth. She now stared at me with pleading eyes, but I just smiled as I hoisted her legs into the air once more. I began applying a thick gooey ointment of my own creation to her delicate backside. The cream was designed to prevent diaper rash in adults, and I spread the cold goop across her rump, massaging it into her plump buttocks and caking it in nice and thick into her butt-crack, paying special attention to her crinkled anus. She groaned and shivered with embarrassment in response. I just smiled and lowered her bottom to the fluffy cotton below.

     When I began rubbing the cream into her pussy, the Contessa’s reactions became markedly different—she groaned and sucked the pacifier eagerly, squirming and spreading her legs to reveal her moist, glistening sex. The maids continued giggling (and, if I may say myself, a couple looked like they’d like to strip down and jump up on the couch after I’d finished with the Contessa.)

     Staring at me from behind the pacifier, her eyes smoldered as I pulled the diaper up tight between her legs—though whether she was angry, embarrassed, aroused or some combination of the three, I couldn’t tell. I pinned the pampers on tight, thick and bulky around her slender waist.

     I helped her to her feet, the gathered servants openly laughing now. The Contessa blushed and sucked her pacifier, the puffy padding pushing her legs apart. She looked out at the snickering audience incredulously, her breasts heaving as she sucked deep breath into her lungs, feeling faint from her humiliation. I held a pair of frilly pink panties out in front of her. She hesitated, then daintily stepped into them a foot at a time, and allowed me to tug them up her legs. A frilly pink bonnet followed, and finally, her transformation was complete—the rich, spoiled, and arrogant Contessa Di Serpieri had been reduced to an overgrown sprat in a big bulky diaper.

     She watched helplessly from behind the pacifier as the maids gathered around her, chuckling to each other as they inspected their newly infantilized boss. The Contessa blushed and cringed as the women whose lives she had run roughshod over for so long gathered around to pat her heavily padded butt and gloat teasingly over her downfall.

     “Ladies,” I said, addressing the maids as I took the Contessa’s hand, “please follow us. The rest of you can return to your regular duties, and I thank you for your patience and attention.”

     I pulled her by her hand; she waddled after me awkwardly, trailed by a gang of giggling maids. I pushed open the doors to her bedroom—what she saw shocked the Contessa Di Serpieri so much she nearly dropped her pacifier.

     Her massive bedroom, once the pinnacle of modern feminine luxury, had been transformed into a massive nursery, easily equipped to handle the needs of such a big baby. Her bed was now outfitted with six foot high crib bars with a locking door at the foot. Her vanity mirror had been replaced by a heavy-duty changing table, her make-up transformed into all manners of powders, creams and salves to keep her dainty bottom clean, fresh, and rash free. Her extensive wardrobe, once the envy of nearly every woman in the world, had been replaced by an array of infantile party dresses, frocks, tights, bloomers, onsies, drop-seat jammies, booties, Mary Jane shoes, and ten of every other item a baby girl might wear. And everywhere there were toys—dolls and stuffed animals and blocks and balls, with trunks stuffed overflowing with playthings lining the walls.

     I addressed the maids. “The Contessa is to have absolutely no stress from this point on. She must have total relaxation, a minimum of eight hours sleep per night, and a least one nap per day. She must be kept clean and dry at all times, which is why one of you ladies will be assigned to her in shifts 24 hours a day—at the first sign of a wet or messy diaper, the Contessa must be changed as the stress of a diaper rash will only aggravate her condition further.”

     By now, the Contessa had heard just about enough of this. In spite of having wet herself in front of the staff and being diapered by a man she’d intended to bed, she still possessed vast reservoirs of arrogance and self importance. She spat the pacifier from her mouth and launched into a furious tirade.

     “That’s enough of this charade! This… this charlatan has enchanted us all with some kind of sorcery!”

     “Contessa,” I warned gently, “you must be careful not to aggravate your condition…”

     “I do not have a condition!” she spat, stomping her foot like a tantrum throwing baby. “I demand that you return myself and my estate to their former condition, or I’ll see you…”

     A noisy gurgle emerged from her tummy. Clenching it, she doubled over with an agonized squawk. Sweat began to run down from beneath her bonnet. Inside, her bowels percolated and heaved, twitching and contracting and expanding with gas.

     “What’s… happening?” she demanded in a strained and trembling voice, the hot, burbling cramps descending lower and lower inside her.

     “I warned you what would happen if you got too riled up, sweetie,” I said calmly.

     The maids giggled and whispered amongst themselves as they huddled together to watch the Contessa’s latest humiliation.

     Her bowels heaving and straining and gurgling, the gripped her stomach, gasping and grunting as she began clenching her buns, even as she slowly realized what was happing was inevitable. And then, before the realization of this futility had even fully dawned, she began to noisily fill her diaper.

     “Oh my!” one of the maids exclaimed as the mess arrived in the seat of the Contessa’s diaper, pushed out by a loud, gaseous accompaniment, the Contessa emitting a pathetic mew as the mess settled into the thick, cotton seat.

     She redoubled her efforts to keep the remaining mess inside her body, but it was no use. She gasped, another noisy gush surging uncontrollably from between her clenched buttocks.  Her breath coming in ragged, heaving gasps, she reached behind herself with a trembling hand and gingerly felt the seat of her diaper, as though unable to believe what had happened. She grimaced, feeling the mess squish beneath her prodding.

     Her insides were still heaving, and there was still plenty more just waiting to come out. There was a smattering of giggles behind her. She shot a desperate look over her shoulder at the tittering maids.

     “Help meeee!” She begged uselessly to them, moments before the final, highly flatulent load was involuntarily dumped into the expanding seat of her diaper. Her legs buckled, her buttocks parted, and a warm, sloppy mudslide came rumbling uncontrollably into the heavy, lumpy seat of her diaper.

     Now finished, the Contessa straightened and checked over her shoulder at the saggy diaper behind her. The stench had emerged, and the maids fanned their faces and pinched their noses, openly commenting on the smell.

     “Goodness! Someone certainly made a mess!” said one with a giggle.

     “P-U! I think you’re right!” another agreed, pinching her nose shut.

     “Princess has stinky pants,” one said sagely.

      “Phew! I’m going to open a window,” said another, crossing the room to do so.

     Taking the Contessa by the hand, I led her across the room, her waddle even more pronounced than before. Taking her by the underarms, I lifted her onto the changing table, delighting at the way she grimaced when her full diaper hit the table, squishing audibly beneath her creamy buns.

     The maids snapped into action, helping fetching cloths and diapers as I popped the pins on her pamper open and pealed the front panel down, revealing a mess so massive most wouldn’t believe it was possible. The entire back panel had been used almost entirely up, the mess caked thickly into her butt crack. The poopy smell increased 10 fold, and I fanned my face. “Phew!” I chided her, beginning the clean-up, “You certainly are a stinky little girl! I can see we’re going to have our work cut out for us here!”

     I cleaned her thoroughly, then anointed her quivering bottom and adorable pussy with an array of lotions and powders. She sobbed and pouted through the entire process, until I finally had her wrapped up in a clean, fresh diaper.

     The maids had selected an outfit for her to wear, and I admonished the Contessa to hold still while they dressed her in an adorable frock, hemmed so high her thickly padded derriere stuck out from under it.

     Assigning one of the maids to watch her, I escorted the other giggling women out of the nursery and shut the door behind me, smiling as I saw the Contessa watch me depart, a silent plea on her face as the door clicked shut behind me.