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…
