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…