Today I'm pleased to introduce a new feature here at The Humble Games online outpost-- call it profiles in naughtiness:
Before |
| Rich Snob |
Occupation: Heiress to the Lane shipping and logging empire.
Birth Date: Mar. 21 1987
Birth Place: Palisades, New York, USA
Nominated For: Arrogance, narcissism, and greed.
This blonde socialite sailed through our competition as easily as she moved through every other aspect of her life. Born into one of the richest families in America and sole beneficiary of it's vast fortune, it was pure greed that lead her to the Humble Games-- the desire to have something she couldn't buy with her vast fortune. She made it to the winner's circle without suffering an unbearable amount of humiliation... her wish?
"I want the perfect husband-- one who's truly worthy of me and my top quality genetics. He should be strong and handsome and spoil me like a princess! A guy who gives me the level of attention I deserve!"
After
"Just as I suspected," he said, dispassionately touching the sodden cloth between her thighs, "soaked again! I swear, you're as bad as a two year old, Katie."
Pouting and sulking, she diverted her gaze to the floor to avoid his piercing stare. She felt him take a gentle, firm grip on her chin and tilt it back until their eyes were locked, and this time there was no escaping their icy stare. She squirmed from foot to foot; just when she thought her situation-- standing in front of her sexy dominant husband in nothing but a diaper-- could possibly be more humiliating, he could still manage to find a way to make her feel even more exposed... to make her shame sharper and more defined.
She knew she should tell him to go to hell-- to boldly reassert the independence due to her as a modern woman. She was rich an powerful and certainly didn't need his shit. But when she looked into his eyes, all she could do was mutter a weak, pathetic "Sorry daddy."
'"It's OK, darling," he assured her condescendingly, "You're still a helpless little baby... It's not your fault." She fumed and blushed, angry and humiliated when she heard his assessment of her. "But... I'm still going to have to punish you," he said, tapping his thigh with a hairbrush.
"Oh, please no daddy," she whined and mewled pitifully, blushing hotly as tears began spilling from her eyes.
"Hush," he said patiently, delivering a stinging swat to her pampered backside. "You know you have this coming... I want you over my knee right now young lady!"
Before
 |
| Diva |
Name: Faith Skye
Occupation: Singer/songwriter
Birth Date: Oct. 14 1988
Birth Place: Santa Barbra, California, USA
Nominated For: Preening self-importance, an over-inflated estimation of her talents, not to mention a myriad of brushes with the law and general public naughtiness.
People often ask me how I manage to get women who seemingly have everything to participate in a contest where losing their dignity is the best case scenario. It's simple; you just have to appeal to their vanity-- after all, nobody comes on a show like this EXPECTING to lose.
And in the case of international Pop Sensation Faith Skye, she had good reason to believe in herself-- one of the few winners of the American Hit-Maker competition to actually succeed outside the contest, she fancied herself an expert at reality TV game shows. Too bad-- if she'd known The Humble Games were more about luck than skill, she might have decided to give us a pass.
And believe me when I say that in our entire history, we'd rarely had a contestant as unlucky as Ms. Skye; arriving late on the first day, she found herself spanked with a speed rivaled only by current contestant Destiny Starr. On day two she lost a competition and wound up a laughing stock in adorably ridiculous little girl frills with a massive, bulging diaper beneath. Which worked out well, because on the third day, she was caught cheating and rendered incontinent (much to her squealing dismay). And on the fourth day she was voted out.
And what became of poor Faith, now incontinent of both bladder and bowel, confined to diapers and baby clothes? Well, since touring and recording were out of the question, we had to find someone to care for the little urchin...
After
SPLAT! "OW! SSSSS!" Faith hissed, sucking air sharply through her teeth, another firm, open handed blow from her mom's hand making her plump buns ripple like a pond struck by a stone. "Mom, please! OW! It's not fair!"
"You hush, little girl," her mother scolded, stepping up the tempo and turning her grown daughter's rump an angry red. "You know you deserve this! Not only for being so naughty at tea time this afternoon," she began, making Faith blush as she remembered being trotted out and put on display for her mother's cackling friends in her diapers and frilliest little girl dress, "but for all the worry you've caused me over the past few years! Do you have any idea how it broke my heart to see you dancing around like a slut on TV night after night?!"
SMACK! "OW! Mom, I'm sorry! Ouch!" Faith pleaded and sobbed, hoping to get her mother to release her.
"And those tours!" her mom continued, spanking her world-famous daughter like a naughty child. "Young lady, just because you're playing to a sold-out crowd in Rome doesn't mean you don't have to check in with your mother-- I was worried sick!"
WHAP! "OWIE! I really sorrrryyy mommieeee!" she wailed, bursting into tears.
"Thank goodness for that nice Game Master," her mother continued, walloping her daughter's backside in spite of her tears and pleading. "I'm going to keep you diapered and in a playpen, young lady, until you can prove to me you're responsible enough to be on your own again!"
"WWWWAAAAAAHHHAAAAAAHHHAAAAA!" Faith bellowed, pounding the floor and kicking her legs as fast as the diaper around her knees would allow, frantically trying to calculate how long it would take her to earn her way back into her mother's good graces again.
Before
 |
| Brat |
Name: Naomi Mader
Occupation: Marketing/advertising
Birth Date: Jun.14 1985
Birth Place: Charlotte, North Carolina, USA
Nominated For: Aggravated bratting, third degree trouble making, and general obnoxiousness.
Occupation: Marketing/advertising
Birth Date: Jun.14 1985
Birth Place: Charlotte, North Carolina, USA
Nominated For: Aggravated bratting, third degree trouble making, and general obnoxiousness.
Normally, contestants in the Humble Games are nominated by a person they have wronged, annoyed, or otherwise run a fowl of. Maybe it's a sibling nominating a bratty sister, or a disgruntled employee nominating an overbearing boss, or sometimes it's a student nominating that teacher who just keeps making their lives hell. Naomi's was actually a group nomination, compiled by her sisters and including exhaustive testimony from family and friends. They compiled a mountain of evidence detailing a lifetime of bratting, teasing, pranking, stealing and tattling.
Which would have been bad enough coming from a little girl, but Naomi carried her penchant for causing trouble well into adult hood. She'd pull childish pranks on family and co-workers alike, cause tension between friend and start scurrilous rumors.
When confronted with the application, I really had no choice. Naomi promised to be the naughtiest played we'd had in over a hundred years and there was no way I was going to turn down the opportunity to teach the little brat a lesson she wouldn't soon forget.
In the end, it wasn't even a challenge: losing a competition the first night she was reduced, kicking and screaming, to the level of an adult baby. Like all brats, she was a sore loser, and so on the second day, she endeavored to pull a childish prank on me, little realizing that she was dealing with the master of mischief. I paddled her bottom soundly, grinning to the sounds of her caterwauling and complaining, but it wasn't enough. An example had to be made-- one that would let the contestants know once and for all the penalty for challenging my authority...
After
"Oh Naomi," her younger sister laughed, watching her squealing, diapered sibling upend the bowl of pudding and plop it on top of her head like a crown, the remnants of the pudding within-- that which hadn't already been dribbled down her chin and onto her bib-- began slowly oozing down her forehead and around the sides of her head, dribbling down her long blonde tassels and and around her ears. "Just look at you!" Kelly laughed in faux anger, hands on hips. "You're a disaster!"
Naomi just giggled mischievously-- even robbed of her adult memories and reduced to an adult toddler, she still maintained her naughty side. She seemed to delight in creating messes for her mother and her younger sisters to clean up. Since the night she had turned up on her mother's doorstep, babbling, a line of drool dribbling down her chin, she'd been under her family's care. No doctor could adequately explain her current state, let alone offer a cure. So it was up to her loving family to keep her clean and fed-- and she repaid them by drawing on the walls and throwing food on the floor.
"Honestly, honey," Kelly continued, "I don't think you could be any messier if you tried!"
Naomi grinned impishly... somewhere, beneath it all, she'd not only understood Kelly's statement, she'd taken it as a challenge. I'll show you messy, she thought with a wicked grin. With a full, satisfied belly it would probably take just a little push...
She leaned over to one side as far as the try of the high-chair would allow. "Uhhh..." Naomi began softly grunting to herself, clutching the table with white knuckles and straining as hard as she could.
"Naomi?" Kelly asked when she heard her sister grunting softly to herself. "You OK?"
Naomi grunted out a large, gassy fart in response; Kelly gaped open mouthed as Naomi began to deposit a large, nasty load into the seat of her diapers. "Oh Naomi," she groaned, exasperated, watching her older sister begin filling her diapers. "Are you really going to do that now? Here?"
She responded with a grunt-- a thick, muddy squelching sound emerged from inside her diaper, loud gas vibrating the padded seat of her diaper. "Goodness!" Kelly tittered, her big baby sister straining as hard as she could to fill her diaper. Noisy, wet farts were emanating from her diaper, accompanied by extended mushing and squishing noises. The hot, mushy mess was pouring from between her cheeks, sloping and blurping into every nook and cranny, slathering each cheek and filling her butt-crack, even as the seat continued to balloon out behind her.
The mess slowed to a stop. Spitefully, Naomi bore down and pushed as hard as she could-- she wanted this diaper to be as messy as possible. "HHHHuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhh...." She grunted, her face beginning to turn red.
"Oh Naomi!" Kelly giggled, exasperated as her sister's grunting was rewarded with a massive fart, followed by another hot, mushy avalanche into the seat of her diaper.
But Naomi wasn't listening. "AAAAHHHHH!" she exclaimed, the relief in her belly almost indescribable. She sat back in her char with an audible squish, giggling at the feeling of the muddy mess spreading out across her entire backside.
"You little stinker!" Kelly chided in mock outrage. "What are we going to do with you?! Hmmm? What are we going to do with that stinky bottom of yours?"
Naomi just laughed mischievously, planting her full weight on her rump and squirming her tushy back and forth in the stinky, sloppy mess, giggling maliciously as she imagined poor Kelly having to clean her up.
"C'mon you little shit machine," Kelly said wearily, sliding the tray from the high-chair. "Let's get you cleaned up, and then I think it might be time for a nap!"
