How could I have forgotten? I’d sucked his cock nearly every night, and most nights he’d fucked my ass as well. I’d licked his body clean from neck to toes. He’d fed me pipe smoke right into my eager mouth. And I had somehow forgotten all of it, gone off to school each day like nothing strange was going on at all. I realized I had done none of my studying that I’d needed to do, and I was failing all of my classes. The semester was nearly over, and I had no idea how I was going to turn any of it around. Perhaps it was silly to worry about school when you discover some old man has been manipulating you and forcing you into diapers, but it was something I could think about. I didn’t want to think about his old cock in my mouth–I didn’t want to think about how much I wanted his cock in my mouth, really. Because I did. And I wanted him to fuck me. And so I ran.
He probably expected me to try and run; he didn’t even try and stop me. I didn’t even care that all I was wearing was a diaper soiled with my own cum, I just wanted out of that house. I flung open the front door and ran out across the lawn, but as soon as I was outside, this monstrous fear rose up inside me. I was outside. More than outside, I was lost. I didn’t know where I was. The world was gigantic, and I had no idea where Daddy was, and I might never get home, and who was going to take care of me? I made it to the curb, tears rolling down my face, no longer able to focus on getting away, not even really understanding what I was feeling, and then he was beside me, pulling me close–Daddy. I was so happy to see him. I gave him a huge hug, and he led me back up the driveway and into the house, where the fear immediately disappeared, and my mind tried to get a grip.
“I wouldn’t try to run away again, baby bear. You all try it once, but if you keep trying, then I’m going to have to punish you,” he said. Daddy said. I struggled with his name, trying to find it in my mind, but his name was just that–”Daddy”. I remembered that was the same thing all those strange men who visited called him, and before I could ask, he explained what he had done to me, and to the rest of them over the last several decades.
It was true–he was lonely. He had been a very skilled hypnotist when he was younger, and he decided to make himself what he called “Baby Bears”–young men he’d keep in diapers, and raise to be better men than what they might have otherwise been. Better from his perspective, of course–I was horrified at the thought, but he assured me that there would be no escaping my new fate. He told me that I had already accepted the first round of conditioning, and now it was time for us to decide what kind of bear I was going to grow up to be, and how much work it was going to take for me to grow up.
You see, he would only be able to make me into a “proper bear” after he’d destroyed and erased most of who I was now. This could be, he told me, a rather violent process, and leave a person’s mind quite damaged, unless they went along with him, and willingly allowed him to destroy their old selves so they could be reborn again. I, of course, was freaking out. He assured me that the more I fought, the worse it would be for me. I was convinced that if I tried hard enough, if I proved indestructible, he would have to let me go. He smiled. It was almost like he liked the idea of me fighting back. And then he said something, some phrase I can’t remember, and things grew slippery. I could feel him ripping out chunks of my personality, and I was fighting him, trying to hold onto them, but he would just tear harder, and it would hurt, like a massive migraine, but I couldn’t let him win, I couldn’t.
I don’t know how much time passed before I came back to myself again, shaking on the floor in a fetal position, Daddy sitting in an armchair beside me. I was still me. I still had lost some, but I still remembered who I’d been. He told me to quit fighting him, that if I kept fighting him, he was going to have to make things worse for me. I laughed, and told him to give it his best shot. He looked disappointed, repeated that mysterious phrase, and this time, I had no real understanding of what was happening. When I resurfaced, however, something had changed in my mind. I was moving slower. I tried to ask him what had happened, but all that came out was baby talk. I also realized, to my horror, that I had pissed my diaper again–and that I had also taken a massive shit as well. I tried to get up, I tried to stand, but my body wasn’t working quite right. All I could do was crawl. Daddy got down at eye level with me, and told me that I was being a very dumb baby bear. That I was going to grow up and become a very dumb baby bear, and if I didn’t let him win, I was going to be the stupidest bear he’d ever raised, that I’d never even be able to go potty like a big boy again. I didn’t want to be that stupid, I really didn’t. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life wearing diapers. One day, I wanted to be a big boy, I wanted to grow up again. I was crying, and he asked me if I was done fighting him. I wanted to say no, but I was exhausted, and I knew he would win. When I went under that final time, I let him remove every bit of me that he could find. This is the last of me, this is the last little bit, the last chunk, and I’m holding on, but he’s coming, he’s coming and–
Bracken's Corner 