Part 1 of 4
Hitchhiking is a thing of the past for most of us, but young people still seem to do it. It can be a bitch sometimes. This was the case for Mark, an 18-year-old, five-nine, 165-pound runaway. If you saw this handsome high school athlete, you'd wonder why he needed to run away from home. But he just found out he got a girlfriend pregnant. Since his parents are conservative Bible thumbing Baptists, there was no way he could live with them. That was especially so because only two months earlier, he got busted for smoking weed on campus and was suspended for a week.
No, he wasn't fitting in at home or at school. He enjoyed being on the football team, but that was not enough to meet his emotional needs. So, Mark Hartman was leaving. Trying to hitch a ride out of town on surface streets was not working. He decided to take his chances and thumb a ride on the freeway's side lane, so he went up the on-ramp.
His only concern was not getting picked up by the police. In his mind, he rehearsed what he would say if a cop stopped to harass him. He was thinking up some story about his car breaking down. He thought cops were people, too, and could be understanding.
Just as these thoughts occurred to Mark, a cop in a state police cruiser rolled to a stop at his side, rolled down the window, and asked Mark or his I.D. Mark produced his student card and handed it over. The cop looked it over briefly, and then instead of giving it back, he placed it on his dash. Then he got out and walked over to Mark.
"You know it's unlawful to hitchhike here?" Officer Dan Michaels asked. Mark tried to explain about his car, but the cop did not even consider that worthy of pursuing. "Too bad. You're also underage. Your folks know where you are?"
Mark replied that his parents didn't care where he was and where he went and were not interested in him. "Well, I'll have to take you in just the same." He took Mark's backpack and tossed it in the front seat of the cruiser.
"Assume the position," the cop ordered. Mark just froze. "Bend over the hood, kid. I have to frisk you. Regulations." Mark did as he was told, and the cop carefully ran his hands over his dark grey T-shirt and worn jeans, paying special attention to Mark's ass crack, which he fondled under the guise of a thorough pat down. He took Mark's wallet, the only thing he found in the jeans, and examined its contents.
"You wouldn't get far on this little money, kid." The wallet contained a mere $3. Mark was in a daze. He never thought he'd actually be arrested. The cop got out his handcuffs, secured Mark's hands behind his back, then put him in the back seat and abruptly took off. Mark thought they would exit the freeway at the next opportunity, but instead, the cop was driving him down the interstate for several miles before taking an off-ramp. After a few turns, Mark noticed they were on some unpaved country road. The cop was making small-talk all along, and Mark was responding appropriately. Little did Mark realize that this cop had a strong reason to obtain as much personal information about him as he could during this short drive. After a barrage of questions about his parents and general family life, he went on to find out more about his physical condition. "You look like you work out. That right, kid? You got some firm muscles under those clothes." Mark told him he did not work out but played football. "Oh, a football jock, are we? Well, at least you're in good physical shape, even if your financial shape sucks." The cop was fishing for bits of personal information to learn as much as he could about the kid and if anyone would look for him. Mark wondered where he was being taken but kept it to himself. It never made any sense to hassle a cop.
Officer Michaels was occasionally eying the boy in the back seat through his tilted-down rear-view mirror and thinking how his own son would have been about Mark's age. That is if his son were still alive. Michaels's son died of a severe fever about 15 years ago when he was just three. Officer Michaels and his wife could never get over the tragedy of their baby's death, which caused them to divorce long ago. But all that is history now, ... or was it?
Mark became confused as the dirt road narrowed further and voiced his concern. "Where are we going? This isn't the way to the police station, is it?"
"Don't worry about it, kid. You'll find out soon enough." Eventually, the road, if you could call it that, ended in front of what appeared to be an old, abandoned cabin. The cop turned off his engine and got out of the car.
"What is this place?" Mark demanded, feeling panicky as the cop opened the cruiser's door and pulled him out.
"Come on in and find out!" The cop pushed Mark roughly, intentionally making him fall forward into some mud. Falling is a bitch when your hands are cuffed behind your back. He landed full front down in it and struggled to get back up. You're a filthy mess, kid!"
Then Mark heard a certain familiar sound of a zipper being undone. Mark turned around just in time to see a long, thick cock hanging out of the cop's uniform pants before the heavy spray of yellow piss hit his mud-covered grey T-shirt and then squarely in the face. "Hey, you son-of-a-bitch!" Mark screamed as he spat out the piss. The cop bent over and slapped him hard across the face, first one way, then the other, back and forth six or eight times.
"You will address me only as Sir or Officer, boy. You ever call me a derogatory name again, or I'll use my belt to beat the shit out of you!"
"You can't do this to me! I have rights, you know!" The big man calmly reached down and slapped him harder this time and then ripped open Mark's flimsy T-shirt, tearing it completely off him.
"Get this straight, you dumbass jock. You're here now, and if you cooperate, you'll be heading back on the freeway soon. But for now, I'm in control and can do whatever I want with you and to you. You will learn to do whatever I tell you to do, at least for the next few hours. Mark was thankful to hear that whatever was happening to him was temporary. He could deal with it and be out of here soon.
The cop grabbed Mark under one arm and dragged him over to a corner of the front of the cabin porch, where a faucet and a hose existed. Removing the handcuffs, he ordered Mark to strip completely. Mark considered running, but this would be only temporary, and thought it wiser to play along. So Mark stripped naked, seeing no other choice. He closed his eyes as the spray from the hose hit him like icicles. At least the mud and urine were being washed away! Then the cop pulled him up and shoved him to the front door.
Once inside, the derelict outer appearance of the cabin belied the clean, well-kept, modern interior. The cop ordered Mark to stay put where he was dripping water on the polished hardwood floor while he went into another room. A moment later, he returned with a towel and proceeded to dry off Mark from head to foot. When the cop got to Mark's ass, he lingered, running the towel into Mark's crack and between his legs. Despite the cold and the scary situation, Mark felt a thrill pass up his spine, and his legs involuntarily spread a little. The cop chuckled.
"Welcome to your new home, boy."
"How long will I be here? I'm cold," Mark said meekly. Officer Dan Michaels poked a finger into Mark's chest and corrected him, saying he was to refer to him as "Sir." So Mark obeyed, "I'm cold, Sir. Is there anything for me to wear while I am here?"
"Don't worry about that. You'll be warm soon enough," the cop told him. With that, he went over to a keyhole in the middle of the wall, inserted his key, and turned it. A bookcase pivoted slowly inward to reveal a strange, hidden room behind it. It was sparsely furnished. The cop pushed Mark inside and said, "I'll see you later."
"But, Sir? I gotta use the bathroom! I got to go pee real bad. I can't hold it until I leave, please?" The cop told Mark he had to hold it and closed the bookcase door, securing his captive inside.
The room looked more like it was for storage, not for living. A light in the ceiling was covered by a small wire cage like a light in a gym. It wasn't as bare as it had first looked from the outside. There were metal rings all over, recessed into the walls. Mark didn't know what they were for, which made him nervous. There was a cheap simple bed and a small table, but no chair. He sat on the bed, totally naked, needing to pee, and hugged his knees to his chest as he shivered from the still, chilled air. Then, not knowing what else to do, he fell asleep.
Unaware of the amount of time that passed, Mark Hartman woke from the strong urge to pee. The room was now quite warm; he was sweating. He felt warm air coming from ceiling vents. His naked body was slick with sweat. His bladder now ached with the need to relieve itself. He saw no toilet, so he tried banging on the part of the wall that opened and yelling. "Hey, Mister, I need to pee! God damn it!" There was no response; he continued pounding the door and yelling until the exertion exhausted him. Finally, not knowing what else to do, he walked over to the furthest corner from the door and relieved himself. As the piss hit the now-warm concrete floor, the stringent smell of it wafted up and filled his nostrils. But he felt a lot better, though worried about what the cop would do to him for pissing there. Hell, it wasn't his fault that there was no bathroom!
Mark sat back down on the bed and contemplated what to do about his present situation. He had no idea where his clothes might be and, beyond that, wondered about being in a wooded area somewhere. Worst, if he did get out, where would he go? No one cared about him, not his parents, not any family members. He wasn't even sure if even his school buddies would stand up for him in light of his getting a girl pregnant. He saw himself as an outcast.
If he got out of this building, he'd be stranded in the middle of nowhere, naked and alone, with a cop, no doubt, looking for him. If he could somehow over-power the cop, it would do him little good. Even if he stole the guy's cruiser, how far could he get in a stolen police car with other cops chasing him? If caught, which was almost certain, no one would take the word of a drifting teenager against that of a trooper!
He was confused and scared as the wall door opened, and the cop entered the room. No longer in uniform, he now wore a T-shirt, jeans, and his beloved hiking boots. Mark sneered up at him with a look of defiance.
"Hello there, kid." Officer Michaels looked in the corner where the puddle of piss lay. "What have we here? You know what happens to boys that piss on my floor?" With that, he reached down, undid his belt buckle, and pulled it from the loops as he walked menacingly toward the naked boy huddled on the bed.
"Fuck you! Where else was I supposed to go? You locked me up in this fucking dungeon with no bathroom, you idiot!" Mark yelled in anger.
"Tsk, tsk, you're going to learn, you super-tough jock boy." The cop raised his hand with the belt and…
The cop raised his hand with and struck him across the cheeks of his naked ass several times, as Mark cried out.
After the swats, the cop reached down, grabbed him by the ear, and hauled him painfully from the bed to stand. The cop sat on the bed, forced Mark to lie belly-down across his knees like a child, and walloped his naked ass with his bare hand. "If you are going to behave like a child, I'll treat you like a child." Mark struggled and screamed. The hand was a little better than the belt, and it was relentless, swatting his ass everywhere, turning his cheeks bright pink. "Are you sorry you pissed on the floor?" "Fuck you!" Mark yells, now in tears. "You're no copy. You're as fucking psycho." More smacks across the ass.
"Are you sorry, little Markie?" Mark whimpered louder but refused to give in. Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!
"Are you really sorry, little Markie?" Mark started to bawl like a little boy as the slaps to his ass got harder. Whack. Whack. Whack. Whack. Mark's head was spinning. His ass cheeks felt like they were on fire. He put his hand out for the cop to stop. But that's not the response the cop was looking for. Whack. Whack.
"Are you really sorry, little Markie?" he asked the boy again.
This time Mark managed to mumble out and weak "Yes," as he sobbed, tears streaming to the floor.
"Yes, what, Mr. Football star?"
Mark sobbed that he was so sorry and said, "Yes... Sir."
The cop stopped spanking Mark but then corrected Mark, "No, not ''Sir.'' Stop calling me ''Sir.'' When you act like a little baby, peeing on the floor and crying as if you are a scared little boy who has lost his Daddy and needs his Daddy, you will call me ''Daddy.'' Let me hear you say it. Tell me you will be a good little boy for your Daddy." The cop had flashbacks of his own son, who, at the age of three, of a fever. Officer Dan Michaels and his wife never got over the death of their sweet child. His wife left him after that tragic loss because he could not snap out of the years of depression that followed. He had an unhealed wound in his soul. Was he planning to use Mark as his replacement son? If his son had lived, he would be the same age as Mark now, 18. Is that where this Daddy-and-son thing was going?
"Yes, Daddy, I will be your good little boy," Mark told him, not being at all sincere but knowing, at least for now, he had little choice but to obey his captor.
"Good." With that, the cop pushed him off his lap and onto the bed, "Get up on your hands and knees, Markie."
Mark complied, not knowing what was coming. He was afraid. His captor was an insane maniac, he thought. Naked Mark got into a doggie position on his hands and knees with his warm, pink ass facing the cop, as directed. With his eyes closed in shame and humiliation, he felt the coolness of grease smeared onto and into his tight asshole. He realized he was about to be fucked for the first time in his life. Then came the big man's cock, playfully kissing the outer rim of his asshole, removing all doubt that a fucking was at hand. "You like that cock, don't you, Markie. You like Daddy's big, fat cock knocking at your back door, don't you, jock boy?" Daddy produced a white pill from out of nowhere and placed it in Mark's mouth. He rubbed his throat to get him to swallow it with just the salvia in his mouth.
"Nooooo, Daddy, please don't. Please stop, Daddy. I'm not gay. Oh god, please, please don't do this, mister." But the cop knew exactly what he wanted. He slowly pushed his way into Mark's tight hole, never pausing, just fully pushing his big, meat dick all the way into that virgin asshole. Then, even as Mark let out uncontrollable sobs and shutters, his captor started his steady in-and-out gentle, pumping action. Mark released a moan, which he was unaware of, though his captor heard it well and smiled.
Mark felt like the cop's dick was a foot long. Before it was all the way out, he pushed it in again, ever so slowly. "Yes, you do like it, Markie, you do." Mark's cock was growing more rigid. "Tell Daddy how much you like it."
"I don't. Please stop. I'm not queer. I'll be good. Please stop. I don't get fucked. Please just let me go. You said you'd let me go." Mark tried to convince the cop, but then another shutter and a moan escaped Mark's throat. Despite the mix of disgust and hatred, he felt for this cop, Mark felt his cock begin to stiffen.
Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Officer Michaels was consciously slapping Mark's rose-colored, already sore ass cheeks with considerable force, so much so that Mark felt the dick inside him vibrate and twitch. It caused such an erotic sensation that started Mark's dick leaking volumes of precum. As he cried, not so much from the slapping pain, but from the fear he was feeling overcome with very erotic sensations in his ass, which he did not want to give into.
"Tell me you loveDaddy's big fat manly dick pumping your little straight bitch jock ass." But Mark said nothing as he shivered and moaned with pleasure between his slobs. Then, Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! "You answer me, Markie. Tell Daddy how much you need to get fucked by him." The cop knew the hard slapping set up an erotic movement in the boy's ass and would soon control him.
Mark was not going to confirm what they both already knew. He just moaned and seeped out a few tears once in a while. He was engrossed with the wonderful feeling in his ass and his big boner aching to be caressed to climax. He could no longer resist his urges and reached down with one hand and began to stroke his stiff dick.
The cop leaned over and, surprisingly gently, whispered in Mark's ear to take his hand off his dick. "Markie, that belongs to Daddy now. You cannot touch it anymore. OK, sweetie?"
Mark was so confused, first getting forcibly fucked, then slapped repeatedly into a frenzied state of arousal, then given a mysterious pill, then told not to touch his own dick, and now his captor was talking sweetly and calmly to him. He let go of his dick, but he was not sure why. But he needed to beat off desperately as his captor continued the slow fuck.
"Please, Daddy? Please let me rub my dick. Oh god, I need to shoot."
"No, Markie, that is no longer possible, at least not without my permission. And no amount of pleading and begging will cause me to give you permission, Markie." Mark's body shook as the cop's big hand reached around to lightly touch the boy's dripping steel pole, but he did not touch it with firmness, only with gentle, tickling stokes that barely made contact with Mark's dick skin.
"See, I can play with my baby's big rod all I want. You, sweetie, are just my little slut bitch boy who does not know how to do anything. Aren't you, Markie? My little baby cunt fuck. Your new purpose in life is to be the hole I choose to use. Isn't that right? Your ass and mouth are mine; they are both only for Daddy's pleasure. You are just my little cute baby whore; isn't that exactly it?"
"Please, Sir, just let me cum, please? I am really not gay. I'm a football player. I can't do these things."
"Oh? A big shot football star who no one loves anymore? Who no one even wants around anymore? Who has no family or friends to count on? No one to care for you? Until now, Markie, you have been totally alone, with no one to care about and love you. That is, up until now." How ominous. Mark's head was swimming, his eyes focused on nothing, but he was hearing every word, realizing it was true.
The Unmaking of Mark
Part 2 of 4
"Of course, if you are a big boy and admit what you are, maybe I'll let you cum. But you are getting confused again; you didn't call me Daddy. That shows me you are resisting your new role as Daddy's baby toy, as Daddy's cock sucking sweet little baby. I don't see why you should be rewarded with that attitude." Mark was freaking out. He did not know what to do. He just wanted to cum and do it now. Mark's dick was continuously bobbing up and down under his belly in his doggie position. Enticed by the cop's very tight, playful, teasing touches, Mark knew he needed to give in, not completely surrender, but just enough to climax. That's all he wanted. For now, then, he would plan to escape.
"OK, Daddy, I am so glad to be your cum dump bitch whore. Oh yes, Daddy. I know that now. I am only your sex toy, your fuck hole, your cock sucking cunt slut. I've learned my lesson, Daddy. I'll be a good boy. Please, may I beat my dick off now?"
"Oh no, baby. If you want to cum, first, it is my choice, not yours. And second, I need to do it, not you. Never you. You don't know how to squirt your dick. That's Daddy's job. Third, you are not a stud jock anymore, only my little pussy baby whore. Do you understand these new rules, sweetie? If you do, then ask me like a little slut baby is supposed to. You have to acknowledge that you will stay here forever and be my little, constantly-pleasing cutie whore forever, and do nothing without your Daddy's permission, EVER. And for that, I will care for you and love you." Mark just busted out in tears and cried and cried, still in his doggie position, still being slowly fucked in and out, still with his "Daddy" teasing his dripping dick to keep him on edge, and only on edge, in constant exquisite agony. Daddy was causing Mark's dick to control Mark's brain.
"Yes, Daddy, I am all yours," the 18-year-old Mark sobbed and shook in erotic frustration. Mark finally realized he was never leaving this place and would remain this sick man's captive, locked in a secret cabin room. No one knew he was there. And this cop, who insisted on being called "Daddy," was twisted, clever, controlling, and full of mind games. He wanted Mark to be his son to enjoy and punish. Mark was being brained washed, sort of. What was that white pill all about? It was not pleasant for Mark, but he was getting the attention his parents never gave him. Weirdly, Mark was getting something important out of being kidnapped, controlled, and held captive. But what was it? Importance?
"Oh god, Daddy, please fuck me. Shit! I don't care if I cum or not. It's up to you, Daddy, to care for your little pussy, baby Markie. Just train me to please you. No one ever cared; no one ever trained me to be of any worth. Fuck! I don't even know how to beat off. I can't even do that. I'm just your slut, cum dump, baby boy. Fuck Daddy, please do whatever." Daddy was pumping harder and harder, ready to ….
"Tsk tsk, you're going to learn, you super-tough jock boy, not to pee on my floor." The room Mark was locked in, naked for the night, had no toilet. The cop knew that but wanted to punish him anyway. The cop raised his hand with the belt and struck him across the cheeks of his naked ass several times when Mark spun around to protect his front side. After the swats, the cop reached down, grabbed him by the ear, and hauled him painfully from the bed to stand. The cop sat on the bed, forced Mark to lie belly-down across his knees like a child, and walloped his naked ass with his bare hand. "If you are going to behave like a child, I'll treat you like a child." Mark struggled and screamed. The hand was little better than the belt, and it was relentless, swatting his ass everywhere, turning his cheeks bright pink. "Are you sorry you pissed on the floor?"
"Fuck you!" Mark yells, now in tears. More smacks across the ass.
"Are you sorry, little Markie?" Mark whimpered louder but refused to give in. Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!
"Are you really sorry, little Markie?" Mark started to bawl like a little boy as the slaps to his ass got harder. Whack. Whack. Whack. Whack. Mark's head was spinning. His ass cheeks felt like they were on fire. He put his hand out for the cop to stop. But that's not the response the cop was looking for. Whack. Whack.
"Are you really sorry, little Markie?" he asked the boy again. This time Mark managed to mumble out and weak "Yes," as he sobbed, tears streaming to the floor.
"Yes, what, Mr. Football star?" Mark sobbed that he was so sorry and added, "Yes... Sir."
The cop stopped spanking Mark but then corrected Mark, "No, not ''Sir.'' Stop calling me ''Sir.'' When you act like a little baby, peeing on the floor and crying as if you are a scared little boy who has lost his Daddy and needs his Daddy, you will call me ''Daddy.'' Let me hear you say it. Tell me you will be a good little boy for your Daddy." The cop had flashbacks of his own son, who, at the age of three, of a fever. Officer Dan Michaels and his wife never got over the death of their sweet child. His wife left him after that tragic loss because he could not snap out of the years of depression that followed. He had an unhealed wound in his soul. Was he planning to use Mark as his replacement son? If he had lived, his son would be the same age as Mark, 18. Is that where this Daddy-and-son thing was going?
"Yes, Daddy, I will be your good little boy," Mark told him, not being at all sincere but knowing, at least for now, he had little choice but to obey his captor.
"Good." With that, the cop pushed him off his lap, onto the bed, "Get up on your hands and knees, Markie."
Mark complied, not knowing what was coming. He was afraid. His captor was an insane maniac, he thought. Naked Mark got into a doggie position on his hands and knees with his warm, pink ass facing the cop, as directed. With his eyes closed in shame and humiliation, he felt the coolness of grease smeared onto and into his tight asshole. He realized he was about to be fucked for the first time in his life. Then came the big man's cock, playfully kissing the outer rim of his asshole, removing all doubt that a fucking was at hand.
"You like that cock, don't you, Markie. You like Daddy's big, fat cock knocking at your back door, don't you, jock boy?" Daddy produced a white pill from nowhere and placed it in Mark's mouth. He rubbed his throat to get him to swallow it with just the salvia in his mouth.
"Nooooo, Daddy, please don't. Please stop, Daddy. I'm not gay. Oh god, please, please don't do this, mister." But the cop knew exactly what he wanted. He slowly pushed his way into Mark's tight hole, never pausing, just slowly pushing his big dick all the way in that virgin asshole. Then, even as Mark let out uncontrollable sobs and shutters, his captor started his steady in-and-out gentle, pumping action. Mark released a moan, which he was unaware of, though his captor heard it well and smiled.
Mark felt like the cop's dick was a foot long. Before it was all the way out, he pushed it in again, ever so slowly. "Yes, you do, too, like it, Markie, you do." Mark's cock was growing more rigid. "Tell Daddy how much you like it."
"I don't. Please stop. I'm not queer. I'll be good. Please stop. I don't get fucked. Please just let me go. You said you'd let me go." Mark tried to convince the cop, but then another shutter and a moan escaped Mark's throat. Despite the mix of disgust and hatred, he felt for this cop, Mark felt his own cock begin to stiffen.
Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Officer Dan Michaels was consciously slapping Mark's rose-colored, already sore ass cheeks with considerable force, so much so that Mark felt the dick inside him vibrate and twitch. It caused such an erotic sensation that started Mark's dick leaking volumes of precum. As he cried, not so much from the slapping pain, but from the fear he was feeling overcome with very erotic sensations in his ass, which he did not want to give into. "Tell me you love Daddy's big fat manly dick pumping your little straight bitch jock ass." But Mark said nothing as he shivered and moaned with pleasure between his slobs. Then, smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! "You answer me, Markie. Tell Daddy how much you need to get fucked by him." The cop knew the hard slapping set up an erotic movement in the boy's ass and would soon control him.
Mark was not going to confirm what they both already knew. He just moaned and seeped out a few tears once in a while. He was engrossed with the wonderful feeling in his ass and his big boner aching to be caressed to climax. He could no longer resist his urges and reached down with one hand and stroked his stiff dick.
Officer Dan Michaels was giving Mark some drug, but more than that, the cop was not allowing the boy to sleep at night, and when he did, it was just for a couple of hours. This helped Mark remain a bit incoherent, having trouble thinking clearly.
The cop leaned over and, surprisingly gently, whispered in Mark's ear to take his hand off his dick. "Markie, that belongs to Daddy now. You cannot touch it anymore. OK, sweetie?"
Mark was so confused, first getting forcibly fucked, then slapped repeatedly into a frenzied state of arousal, then given a mysterious pill, then told not to touch his own dick, and now his captor was talking sweetly and calmly to him. He let go of his dick, but he was not sure why. But he needed to beat off desperately as his captor continued the slow fuck.
"Please, Daddy? Please let me rub my dick. Oh god, I need to shoot."
"No, Markie, that is no longer possible, at least not without my permission. And no amount of pleading and begging will cause me to give you permission, Markie." Mark's body shook as the cop's big hand reached around to lightly touch the boy's dripping steel pole, but he did not touch it with firmness, only with gentle, tickling strokes that barely made contact with Mark's dick skin.
"See, I can play with my baby's big rod all I want. You, sweetie, are just my little slut bitch boy who does not know how to do anything. Aren't you, Markie? My little baby cunt fuck. Your new purpose in life is to be the hole I choose to use. Isn't that right? Your ass and mouth are mine, only for Daddy's pleasure. You are just my little cute baby whore; isn't that exactly it?"
"Please, Sir; just let me cum, please? I am really not gay. I'm a football player. I can't do these things."
"Oh? A big-shot football star who no one loves anymore? Who no one even wants around anymore? Who has no family or friends to count on? No one to care for you? Until now, Markie, you have been totally alone, with no one to care about and love you. That is, up until now." How ominous. Mark's head was swimming, his eyes focused on nothing, but he was hearing every word.
"Of course, if you are a big boy and admit what you are, maybe… But you are getting confused again; you didn't call me Daddy. That shows me you are resisting your new role as Daddy's baby toy, as Daddy's cock sucking sweet little baby. I don't see why you should be rewarded with that attitude." Mark was freaking out. He did not know what to do. He just wanted to cum and do it now. Mark's dick was continuously bobbing up and down under his belly in his doggie position. Enticed by the cop's very tight, playful, teasing touches, Mark knew he needed to give in, not completely surrender, but just give in so he could climax. That's all he wanted. For now, then, he would plan to escape.
"OK, Daddy, I am so glad to be your cum dump bitch whore. Oh yes, Daddy. I know that now. I am only your sex toy, your fuck hole, your cock sucking cunt slut. I've learned my lesson, Daddy. I'll be a good boy; please, may I beat my dick off now?"
"Oh no, baby. If you want to cum, first, it is my choice, not yours. And second, I need to do it, not you. Never you. You don't know how to get your dick to squirt. That's Daddy's job. Third, you are not a stud jock anymore, only my little innocent pussy baby who needs his Daddy. Do you understand these new rules, sweetie? If you do, then ask me like a little ignorant baby is supposed to. You must acknowledge that you will stay here forever and be my little, constantly pleasing me forever and do nothing without your Daddy's permission, EVER. And for that, I will care for you and love you." Mark just busted out in tears and cried and cried, still in his doggie position, still being slowly fucked in and out, still with his "Daddy" teasing his dripping dick to keep him on edge, and only on edge, in constant exquisite agony. Daddy was causing Mark's dick to control Mark's brain.
"Yes, Daddy, I am all yours," the 18-year-old Mark sobbed and shook in erotic frustration. Mark finally realized he was never leaving this place and would remain this cop's captive, locked in a secret cabin room. No one knew he was there. And this cop, who insisted on being called "Daddy," was twisted, clever, controlling, and full of mind games. He wanted Mark to be his son to enjoy and punish. Mark was being brained washed by a drug and sleep deprivation, and the constant forceful and manipulative talk from his capture. What was that white pill all about? It was not pleasant for Mark, but he was getting the attention his parents never gave him. Weirdly, Mark was getting something important out of being kidnapped, controlled, and held captive. Was it a sense of importance? Caring? Value?
"Oh god, Daddy, please fuck me. Shit! I don't care if I cum or not. It's up to you, Daddy, to take care of your little pussy, baby Markie. Just train me to please you. No one ever cared; no one ever trained me to be of any worth. Fuck! I don't even know how to beat off. I can't even do that. I'm just your slut, cum dump, baby boy. Fuck Daddy, please do whatever." Officer Michaels was pumping harder and harder ready to ….
\ Mark's spankings were intense and continuous. He pleaded with this man who wanted only to be called "Daddy" to stop pounding his ass. Mark just lost all self-control. He ran away from home only this morning because his fundamentalist parents rejected him for having sex with his girlfriend and getting her pregnant. Then he got picked up, by a cop no less, for hitching on the freeway. Then it really got weird. The cop drove him to his private cabin in the hills, stripped him naked, and spanked the crap out of him for hours. Now, ... this cop wants Mark to call him ... "Daddy."
18-year-old Mark Hartman had no way of affecting anything "Daddy" was doing to him. He had no choice and no more physical strength to put up a fight. He started down the path of surrender physically, emotionally, and psychologically.
He was becoming exactly what Officer Dan Michaels wanted, a compliant, programmable possession. It was real, and Daddy was winning. Yes, the captor knew there would be periods of rebellions and resistance, and Mark would need punishment and reinforcements along the way, but Mark had begun his journey.
"Such a sweet little boy you are. In many ways, you remind me of my own son. He would have been a high school jock, just like you, if he had lived. But he never got the chance. And in the same way, you'll never be a jock either, at least not anymore. You will always be Daddy's little baby boy." With his dick carefully parked deep into Mark's ass, Daddy leaned his head to the side of Mark's face, kissed him so tenderly on the side of his face, and gently licked his cheek. "My long-lost little baby, whom I will care for, train, and love. You are finally home, sweetie. You are finally back."
Mark was filled with contradictory experiences from his new Daddy. He had been stripped, beaten with a belt, cuddled, face-slapped, kissed, ass-spanked, fondled like a baby, force-fucked, gently fucked, pissed on, caressed, forced to swallow a little white pill, praised, mocked, and "loved." It was too much craziness to wrap his brain around. His intelligence was of no use. He could not think. So he was forced to allow his feelings and emotions, colored by his tremendous erotic need for Daddy to let him climax, to guide him. He wanted his Dad's approval, attention, understanding, guidance, control, and love.
All that, coupled with a lack of sleep, minimal food, and an intense and constant need for sexual release that would only be allowed by his new Daddy, cause him to need this cop more than ever. He stopped thinking for himself and gave into what he was being told he felt as his body sagged into his Daddy's fucking embrace. As for his boner, he was resigned to letting it bob up and down, now that his Daddy let go of it. "So, you're Daddy's little baby boy? And what do little babies wear, sweetie? Jeans? Tennis shoes? T-shirt? … Oh no. Babies wear what? Markie? What do they go pee-pee or potty in? Tell Daddy. What is it you need to wear, sweetie?"
Mark burst out crying as he slobbered out the word "Diapers." His entire body trembled and shook on its own, uncontrollably. Daddy smiles with great joy and pleasure. He wanted Mark to repeat his need and ingrain it in his brain. Mark's sobbing turned into a constant moaning and whimpering. He felt the soothing, gentle, long-stroke fucking of his Daddy's dick as it massaged deep inside his bowels. "I need diapers, Daddy, in case I need to go pee-pee or doo-doo, Daddy." Mark Hartman had gone from stud football high school jock and womanizing fucker, to recognizing his current infantile needs for diapers in which to go "pee-pee."
"Of course, you need a diaper, sweetie. Of course, and Daddy has those for you. But first, we need to feed you. You've had nothing to eat since you arrived. You must be starving." Daddy slowly pulled his huge dick out of Mark's ass, and slowly turned the boy around to face him. He saw Mark's big boned-up dick, still bobbing a little, sticking upwards toward the ceiling. "And look at Markie's beautiful dick. Wow, you are so stiff, and… God, you are like a flagpole. I am so fucking proud of you! You need to cum, don't you, my sweetie? You want Daddy to allow you to shoot your boy juice all over the place.
"Fuck, Markie, I'll bet that dick of yours is like a cannon with a hair trigger. Isn't it, baby? Just patiently waiting for Daddy's approval. But right now, your dick does not matter. Daddy's dick, not yours, is your new baby toy. Daddy's dick is how you will please me most often. Daddy's dick is your reason to live. And right now, we'll use Daddy's dick to deliver a good healthy serving of Daddy's milk. Just look at Daddy's milk hose, Markie. Oh, don't worry about the little shit that's coating it. We'll just think of it as chocolate milk. Yum, Yum. Now get off the bed and kneel upright on the floor. That's a good boy."
Mark immediately did as he was told, without any need to question or think. He was allowed zero sleep during the past 20 hours. He was such a handsome, beautiful, nicely-toned athlete, now kneeling before his Daddy, naked, all boned up, staring at his Daddy's dick, all glossy-eyed and hungry. He was even drooling saliva down the corner of his mouth. "Yes, Daddy," was all he said.
"OK, sweetie, ready for your yum, yum?" Mark just nodded and opened his mouth, unsure what to expect since he had never sucked a dick before, yet it was Daddy's direction. He opened as wide as he could, and Daddy slowly slipped his massive dick, not full in, not yet. Markie needed to get used to it.
"That's it, baby jock boy. Show Daddy how much you want your milk. Good boy, lick Daddy's dick all nice and clean of your baby poo-poo as you suck it." He started to insert more and more and began gently to touch the back of the boy's throat. "Try not to gag, sweetie. Concentrate on pleasing Daddy. Moan for me, moan and think yum, yum." Mark moaned louder and louder as he began to move his head to match the rhythm of his Daddy's hip thrusts.
"OK, Markie, use your tongue and massage and lick Daddy's dick all around so Daddy will release your dinner and squirt it down your throat. Now, do a good job, and don't spill any of Daddy's power juice. If you do a good job, Daddy will let you climax, too." That did it for both of them; Daddy jammed his dick all the way in, and the boy sucked up as much as he could. The surprise blasts of cum caught Mark off guard, and some came out through his nose and the sides of his mouth. As Daddy collapsed in exhaustion, he leaned down and hugged his boy fully as he sat on the concrete floor. Mark was so pleased he did a good job. So please, his Daddy praised and loved him. He never felt this kind of acceptance at home. He loved it.
"Thank you, Daddy. I love you, Daddy. May I cum now?"
"Sorry, sweetie, you spilled some of your breakfast on my boots. So go ahead and lick those clean." Mark did as told and was pleased to obey. He licked Daddy's hiking boots all over, more than seemed necessary. Daddy was proud, and Mark was happy to have someone who took so much interest and care with him and taught him how to behave.
Daddy looked down at his new son and told him how pleased he was. "But, Markie, that big, stiff, leaking boner of yours will not be discharged today. You have to learn not to spill anything from Daddy's body. No piss, no shit, no snot, no man juice. Nothing that comes from Daddy's body is to be wasted. You have to…”
"Oh yes, Daddy, oh fuck yes!" Mark interrupted his Daddy to agree wholeheartedly. "I am so sorry, Daddy, so sorry that I fucked up. I promise to do better, to make you proud. Little baby Markie wants to be your pussy, cock-sucking, fuck boy toy and make you happy." He hugged his Daddy tightly around the knees and kissed those hairy, muscular police officer thighs he now cherished.
Daddy was very proud of the rather quick transformation of the straight high school football jock. In fact, he was ecstatic, but he didn't want his new son to know that. He preferred Mark stay stuck in need to always do better, learn more, try harder, and always please his Daddy.
"You did disappoint me, but I am pleased you are at least trying. That makes you a good boy. I know you will do better with every lesson. Don't worry. I will never give up on you as your parents, family, friends, and school did." In reality, only his parents gave up on him, no one else. But that was part of Officer Michaels' programming, reinforcing the idea that no one wanted him. "I will never cut you loose. I will always be here for you, training and caring for you. Now, get up on the bed and stay there. I'll be right back, sweetie." Mark did as ordered as Daddy exited through the hidden doorway closing it tightly.
Only a couple minutes went by when the secret wall-door swung open. "OK, boy, lay down on your back." Naked Mark complied, not knowing what to expect next. Daddy was carrying a somewhat familiar bag, but it didn't initially register. He stood by the side of the bed and opened the bag. It was then that Mark realized what it was, a diaper bag.
The Unmaking of Mark
Part 3 of 4
Daddy first took out a baby bottle filled with what looked like apple juice and set it on the bed. Then he retrieved a pill bottle from his pants pocket, opened it, and took one out (for the second time). "Here you go, Mark, another vitamin. Daddy wants you strong and healthy. And some apple juice to wash it down." Daddy inserted the pill between Mark's lips, placed the baby bottle rubber tip into Mark's mouth, and let him suck in the apple juice. Mark cringed at the bitter taste, unaware whether it was from the pill or the supposed juice.
Next, Daddy took out a fluffy white diaper, a container of powder, and a strange tape. It was a roll of "Lock Tape," which, when put on cloth or plastic, such as a diaper, could not be peeled off. It had to be cut off with scissors. He then grabbed Mark's ankles and lifted the leg of this 5'' 9", 152-pound, 18-year-old teenager. Yes, he had dropped a few pounds during his week-long activities due to being fed less. His minor weight loss was also part of re-marking Mark into a weaker lad. Yes, the former, well-built, high school jock had been reduced to a slighter-built, diaper-wearing, insecure, sometimes sobbing little baby. Daddy slipped the opened, flat diaper under his ass, then let the boy's legs down. Daddy admired his boy's big still-firm dick, still dripping a bit, as he rubbed it so gently to show Mark he could touch it alone. Mark could not help his hip bucking a few times in uncontrollable erotic reaction. Then, working like an expert, he secured Mark in his diaper, which held his dick inside, pointing upward. The Lock Tape actually went fully around the waist of the diaper. "Now, my little boner boy… You know, maybe I'll change your name to Baby Rod. Would you like that? It would fit you better. You'll be throwing a rod every day of your life. Well, we'll think about that. Now let me explain about this tape that is holding your diaper on. It seals the diaper around your waist and legs. You won't be able to slip your finger under it, and you can't tear it with your fingers, no matter how hard you try. And even if you try to, Daddy would be very disappointed in you, son. Very hurt and terribly disappointed. Daddy might even toss you out, like everyone else."
A look of terror flashed on Mark's face. He was stunned by that fake threat. "But don't worry, your salvation and my love for you will always be here as long as you obey."
"Oh yes, Daddy. But I have no need to remove it unless I need to go to the bathroom and…"
"Stop that right now!" Daddy yelled. "There is no such word as 'bathroom.' You will only use the words like pee-pee or potty, and poo-poo is OK, too." Daddy paused and lowered his voice, "Look, Markie, you must learn to obey me. I don't care who you were or what you knew. That's all in the erased past. Sweetie, just please me, that's all. You're my little baby. Remember that you don't know how to use a 'bathroom;' remember. That's what your diaper is for."
"Yes, Daddy, I am so sorry. I just wanted to say that I might have to go pee-pee soon."
"Of course, sweetie, of course. In fact, we are both going to get some sleep now. You will stay locked in this special room, at least until you are fully adjusted and accept who you truly are. Daddy will sleep in the other room. But first, you will go pee-pee in your diaper, just like all little baby boys need to do. So, go ahead, sweetie."
A week ago, an 18-year-old runaway, Mark Hartman, was picked up for hitchhiking on the freeway by this cop, Officer Michaels, who kidnapped him and took him to his secluded cabin. Officer Michaels never got over losing his own son to illness at the age of three. That was 15 years ago. This mentally disturbed cop had been looking for a replacement son all this time when he happened along Mark.
At this point in his re-programming, Officer Michaels switched from delivering painful spankings as punishments to delivering loving baby kisses, gently petting, and comforting hugs as rewards. With Mark's drugging, sleep deprivation, and constant twisted mentoring by Officer Michaels, the boy's identity became confused. He more willingly complied with Daddy's wishes. It felt much better to receive the love and care he longed for, even in this extremely psychotic way, than to be beaten. Daddy knew there would be periods of rebellion requiring further punishments, but he was pleased to see Mark's new attitude starting to bloom.
Mark was coming to believe Daddy was right. Daddy was right about everything. "Yes, Daddy." Mark scrunched his face trying to let go of a stream of urine. Daddy just looked and patiently waited. Then Mark relaxed and let out a sound of "Ahhhhhh." Then they both smiled.
"You know what would be a nice gesture, son? I want you to suck your thumb. Anytime you are not speaking or bored, just re-develop the habit of sucking your thumb." Mark immediately put his thumb in his mouth and sucked it.
While Mark sucked his thumb, Daddy felt the now heavy diaper. "There you go, son, there you go. I am so proud of you. Let me feel around your diaper and see how squishy that pee-pee feels all around your big dick boner." Daddy's hand massaged and rubbed the outside of the diaper to distribute the urine around the inside material so it would soak around his dick and balls. Mark felt wonderful getting his Daddy's approval. The diaper was so snugly fit on him that nothing leaked out.
Unbelievable. Those who knew Mark Hartman previously saw him as a nicely built, straight football jock at the local high school who was popular with the girls. He ran away from home this morning. He could not face his ever-lecturing Baptist parents, who would soon find out that he got a girl pregnant at school. Other issues involving his pot smoking, for which he was suspended for a week, compounded the problem. He did well on the football team, but that was not enough for him to put up with his narrow-minded, ever-criticizing parents. He truly felt unwanted and not at all understood. He had to leave.
But now? "Baby Markie" is in a diaper, filled with piss, his belly full of Daddy's cum. He has a huge boner, which he can never touch. He is now beholden to this stranger as his new Daddy. Mark is without freedom, self-worth, dignity, responsibility, true love, money, clothes, or any possessions. He is accepting, more and more, a life of total humiliation and degradation in exchange for what he believes to be genuine love. Unbelievable.
Daddy sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed Mark's hard dick through the diaper plastic. He nearly could grab it full around, but not quite. He pumped it from the base to the tip and up and down, over and over, then pushed it side-to-side like a windshield wiper, pointing to one hip and then to the other. Back and forth. Mark was in another world. Mumbling, "Oh yes, Daddy, oh yes, Sir, thank you, Daddy. Oh God, thank you." Mark knew his Daddy would finally let him shoot his long stored-up load.
Mark's diaper-covered groin was thrusting off the bed. His knees bowed out like a diamond shape to give Daddy more room to play with his diaper-covered dick. Then Mark went into heavy breathing. His hips were gyrating, and his chest was heaving, and then, Mark grunted out throaty animal sounds as he released his pent-up load into his already piss-filled diaper. As he did, his head came off the bed, and his upper body folded forward violently several times, full body thrusts as each mighty squirt wrenched his muscular frame. Then, he fell back onto the bed in collapse. He was so content that he finally got his much-needed release. "Oh, thank you, Daddy." He whispered in total heavenly exhaustion.
The brief moment of silence was broken by a tirade of anger from Daddy. "What in the fucking hell did you do!" Daddy, of course, had set this up and pretended to be surprised and angry. Mark's face went flush white in horror. Daddy reached up and firmly grabbed one of Mark's tits and squeezed it, holding it painfully between his fingernails as he yelled. "Just who the fuck do you think you are, you little bitch pussy hole? Who told you… you could cum? I thought you'd want to please me, obey me, be a good boy, and here you are, taking it upon yourself to have a good time, getting all self-centered and selfish. You shot your load without Daddy's permission?!"
Mark had trouble listening because his tit was being squeezed with vice-grip fingernails. He first screamed in pain, then he cried at the horror that he disappointed his Daddy. He felt so rejected, so unwanted, and lost. He bawled as he screamed, not knowing what hurt more, his tit or the rejection by his new Daddy. Then Daddy used his other hand to slap Mark's face to the right and backhanded his face to the left, back and forth, several times. Mark's lip was bleeding.
"You disappoint me so fucking much. I don't want you anymore." Daddy told him loudly. Mark fell to pieces, lost in self-pity and shame. Daddy waited a long time as he let the crying Mark wallow emotionally in agony, draining any hope of salvation, feeling the worthlessness of his being, gasping for deep breaths as he exhaled loud sobs.
Daddy pretended to calm down as he now kept a stern look and manner on his face. He spoke in a soft voice. "How… how could you do that to me, son? After all, I have done for you? I am the one who took you in when no one even wanted you. And here you go, slapping me in the face. I am so hurt." Daddy was a good actor. This was all planned out. He knew how to play with the boy's mind, especially with very limited sleep. Officer Michaels would build him up and slam him down repeatedly.
Daddy continued in a sad, pleading tone, "Son, I was enjoying myself playing with your cock, and so happy to own a new toy. I was so delighted I could do as I wanted, and you learned, I thought, to just fucking surrender and keep out of my business! And look at you. You can't even please Daddy by sucking your thumb like I told you to." Mark was frightened. He immediately put his thumb back in his mouth. He felt awful hearing this disappointment from his Daddy. Of course, Daddy was truly happy to hear his son completely break down and respond to him as if he did the most awful thing in the world. It was exactly what Daddy wanted to hear.
Daddy stopped talking and pretended to collect himself as he watched his hunky boy weep more silently, frustrated at his failure to avoid climaxing. "Look, son. I'm sorry I yelled at you. You know I love you, and as I said before, I will never give up on you or cut you loose as everyone else has. But… sweetie, listen to Daddy. I was here, sitting on your bed next to my dear cute little helpless baby and feeling his stiff pee-pee dick and playing with it like a toy race car, and I was driving it around your belly and from side to side and having a wonderful time.
"Markie? Daddy was just doing his own thing. Why can't you learn to mind your own business, son? Why in the world would you not want Daddy to have a bit of fun? After all the work I am putting into taking care of, you can't let Daddy have a tiny little treat? Do you think I like spanking you, fucking you, feeding you my prized Daddy milk juice? Did your former Daddy feed you his milk? Or care enough to fuck you?" Mark started to tear up more but listened and stared intensely. "You don't have to answer. I know he did not. No one did. I know, son. No one did. No one loved or cared for you enough to take the time to give you what you need."
"Even when I have to whip you with my belt on your naked ass, it gives me a sore back. Do you think I like doing that stuff?" Daddy was talking in a low caring voice, and Mark was again whimpering in shame and took his thumb out of his mouth so he could mumble the words, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," repeatedly. Daddy was so pleased he had broken the spirit of his new boy, the former football jock and high school hero. Amazing. He has now mentally regressed to a diapered, thumb-sucking little tot who only seeks his Dad's approval.
"Do you know how selfish you acted? It's as if you're telling me to fuck off, son. You are fucking telling your Daddy to fuck off." Mark stared in disbelief that he could be so disrespecting his Daddy. His sexy luscious mouth seemed "locked" wide open in shock. Saliva was dripping from the corners of his gaping mouth. He felt so ashamed, embarrassed, and totally wrong in the rude way he had just treated his wonderful Daddy.
“Da… da… Daddy… I am… I am… so, so…" Mark was trying to calm down so he could speak clearly. "I am so sorry. I… I… Please don't… don't throw me out. Please, Daddy, I am so, so sorry. I am so scared. I have only you… Please love me… Please, I… I am so scared. I…” And Mark again gave in to bawling like a true infant with snot and tears leaking from his face as he stared into Daddy's eyes for any sign that his Daddy would forgive him and keep him. He never looked down into Daddy's lap to see the big boner developed under Dad's shorts. Oh yes, Daddy was in erotic haven, big time.
Mark did something usual. He took Daddy's hand and placed it on his diaper-covered dick. It wasn't hard now, but still, he was trying to communicate that his dick was for his Dad's enjoyment. The boy moved the idle hand up and down over his diaper to signal he wanted to surrender his dick to his Daddy. Then, with Daddy's hand on his dick, Mark leaned back on the bed, laid there flat, then spread his arms and legs out to signal he had no more resistance. In fact, he stretched his arms and leg wide and stiffly outward, his sign of complete computation.
Finally, it was time for Daddy to give a clear sign that he would forgive Mark. He pulled Mark up to him and embraced his head, and squeezed the boy's body in a sign of love. "Look, son, don't worry. It will take some time, maybe a long time, to train you right, but I swear, son, I swear to God, I will not give up on you, even if my hands hurt when I spank you and if my back gets sore from using the belt on your ass. Fuck! Son, I'll do it for you. Damn it, I'll do it. I will because I love you." That was all Mark wanted to hear. Now he cried in relief, hugging his Daddy's shirt with clenched fists. He had a Daddy who cared about him.
"What a good boy. And that's not all, son. I will let you suck Daddy's huge, juicy bone, too." Mark just started to explain to his Daddy that he was not gay. He was not arguing, just meekly pointing out a fact his Daddy was unaware of. But his Daddy smiled and said lovingly, "Oh, my boy, it is not whether you are straight or gay that matters. It's that you'll want to show Daddy how much you need him and cherish him. And, of course, any of my friends.
"But, Daddy, I don't want… I mean… I don'... I don't know nothing about… ah… I can’t just… just...”
"Of course, you don't know nothing. I don't expect you to figure life out all by yourself, baby Markie. Look how fucked up and totally alone you made yourself. Honey? You're not bright enough to do all that figuring out. In fact, I don't expect you to think about doing anything ever again. That is what Daddy is for. I will make all those awful, manly decisions for you," Daddy said.
Daddy inserted two fingers into Mark's mouth and pushed in another of those bitter white pills. Mark swallowed it as he sucked on his Daddy's fingers. "This cute little face-hole of yours will be Daddy's pride and joy. Oh, Markie, you will make me so happy. And I will take care to see my baby gets all the nourishing milk he can handle, from me and from the rest of our extended family." Daddy was talking about his close circle of "special" friends as being Mark's uncles and their sons as being Mark's cousins.
"Now, you get some rest, son. We will start fresh in the morning." Mark asked if he could change to a clean diaper before bed. But his Daddy lightly tapped his adorable nose with his index finger and laughed, "Silly boy. Son, your pee-pee-filled diaper does not bother me at all. As usual, I'll be sleeping in the other room, so I won't even have to smell it. Since it does not bother me, do you really want me to go through all the effort to change you now?" Mark slowly shook his head, mesmerized, not knowing why he was agreeing. "So, do you have any more foolish questions, you silly weenie?" Mark blushed with embarrassment for being so stupid.
"By the way, just to let you know, I do forgive you for spilling your baby juice. So, I will take you to Mike's Balls in two days. It's a pool-hall-type bar where my friends hang out. They will all want to see you. Just remember to be on your best behavior, Markie. Make Daddy proud."
Daddy spoke as he cuddled Mark lovingly on his lap as both were on the bed. Mark was, of course, still diapered with a diaper full of piss and cum. As Daddy talked, he noticed that Mark had placed his right arm loosely over his Daddy's neck while his left arm was positioned straight out, limp, away from his body, just resting on the mattress. Daddy saw Mark's open arm position as a signal of trust and surrender.
Daddy placed his hand on Mark's diaper, which was clean on the outside, and began to lightly, most unconsciously, finger the groin lump that was his baby's slowly growing boner. Mark made no move to recoil. In fact, he did not resist at all, not even when his Daddy gently pushed Mark's knees wider apart to allow him easy access. And it pleased Daaddy further when Mark realized Daddy's wish and then spread his own legs even wider apart.
"All the usual guys will be there, so you can meet them. You'll have fun, too, Markie. I'm sure they'll all want to bounce you on their laps and take turns feeding you. Oh, don't let me forget to bring your baby bottle and a pacifier when we don't want to hear from you. Oh… and a couple of clean diapers. I hope one of them will want to help change you. I can't do that all the time."
Daddy was now moving Mark's diaper-cover dick, like a windshield wiper, moving that re-grown boner from side to side. Mark shuddered an erotic shiver but made no move to interfere with his Daddy's pleasures. Mark moaned, but even with that reaction, he tried desperately to keep to himself.
"You all horny now, my little baby?" Mark nodded yes, not knowing what else to say. "That's OK, Markie. That's just fine. When you have a big stiff boner, that means you love me. I am so fucking pleased that my little weenie kiddy is all boned up and so proud to show off his widdow pee-pee to his Da-Da." Of course, Mark wanted his Daddy to either stop touching him or let him climax, but he knew neither of those actions was his decision.
"OK, Markie, it's your turn. Let me hear you talk to your Da-Da like the little baby boy you are. Tell Da-Da how you would wuv for him to play with your pee-pee and make your weenie big-big. Go ahead Mar-Mar, tell Da-Da."
Markie stared at his… his… "Da-Da?" and saw no look of joking. Daddy was serious. His Daddy's eyes were intense. He was smiling, but his eyes ordered him to talk baby talk. It was like, "Do this, or I will reject you totally and completely and toss you out of my house!" type of order. Markie was trying to form the baby-talk words but started to shudder. Then he caved in. Hell, he had nowhere to go; worse, no one wanted him. Daddy… ah… a… Da-Da was all he had, and pleasing Da-Da was paramount.
Markie, teared up just a little and began, "Da-Da, widdle Markie... eh... Mar-Mar would wuv you to play with his pee-pee and make it grow to a big wee-wee. Peas Da-Da, make Mar-Mar widdle pee-pee go big-big."
Daddy continued to massage Markie's dick making Markie moan continually. Markie's erect dick was the tool Daddy used to manipulate Markie's mind and desires. "Peas, Da-Da, Mar-Mar wants… needs to cum-cum now. Peas? Oh, peas, Da-Da?"
"Oh, but Mar-Mar has no permission. We have been through this before, haven't we, son? But Da-Da will help out his little baby. I'll pinch your cute itty-bitty widdle tittie until dat nasty, mean urge to climax leaves your body. Would you like that?"
"Would you like Daddy to help you to obey? To keep you in good boy behavior so you don't need to get your ass-belted blood awful? Is Mar-Mar going to beg Da-Da for his help?" Daddy smiled broadly and opened his eyes wide, offering helpless Markie a burst of unbearable pain to abate his need to climax and avoid a long punishment session. Daddy was still rubbing his diaper-covered dick, and that dick was bobbing and screaming for release.
"Yes, Da-Da, peas," Mar-Mar whispered and then cried aloud, not so much for the pain he knew he was about to receive, but more for the fact that he needed to beg to receive that pain, beg for his Daddy to take away any dignity, any humanity, any adult-independence he might still have lodged in some corner of his soul. He cried louder now. He was on the verge of shooting his load. He knew if that happened a second time, after the harsh warning he received already, he would be thrown out, with no hope, no one, no place, just abandoned. Daddy was now thumping the tip of Markie's fully-erect dick as it bounced against the inside of the diaper fabric.
"OH, Da-Da PEAS! PEAS hurt me now. Da-Da, I need you so much, PEAS! PEAS! Quickwie Mar-Mar is gonna cum-cum. I need you so bad. I can't do nothing without you, Da-Da. Peas take care of Mar-Mar. I onwy have you. I only want you. PEAS… Hurt me. I'm about to.. to … I need you to hurt me so bad. Hurry, da…”
The Unmaking of Mark Part 4of 4
Mark Hartman, now known as baby Mar-Mar, was in complete panic. Asking his Daddy to hurt him so he could avoid an unapproved climax. He had no permission. He did not want to disobey his Daddy, who was disallowing him to even climax. The pills made his mind fuzzy in his ability to determine what reality was and what erotic fantasy was. He was no longer sure what was in his own best interest, so he relied on the only person here interacting with him, holding him, owning him. He only knew that Daddy was here for him, to talk care of him.
Markie wailed with his mouth open wide and spit dripping from the sides of his mouth as he felt his Daddy pinch his tit like a lock-jawed vise. Daddy did not do it quickly. He pinched it hard with his thick, manly fingernails and maintained full pressure. He did not want to draw blood, but that was fine if a little seeped out. Markie knew enough not to grab his Daddy's hand but to leave his body open as a continued invitation to allow Daddy to do whatever he wished without any interference from Markie.
At the same time as Daddy held Markie's tit in a fingernail vise-grip and squeezed it unmercifully, Daddy's other hand continued to play with Markie's dick, monitoring its deflation which it did oh so slowly. Markie continued to cry. Daddy continued to smile joyfully as Markie's dick went soft, allowing him to be kept in baby training. Finally, Daddy let go, and now gently rubbed the painful tit in tiny circles to restore the blood flow there. Markie calmed down, trying to breathe deeply, still sitting on his Daddy's lap. "You see, how Daddy helped you to obey? You see, Mar-Mar-Poo-Poo, how only Da-Da can save and protect you?
"Oh, Markie, you silly little weenie bumpkin. Daddy loves you so much. You are well on your way to being my little weenie boy. You have only one job: to please Daddy, and one way is always to have your big weenie joystick all hard and pointing out from your body, especially when you are fully naked, without diapers. But, as you have learned so well, you must never be selfish. You are not to climax and shoot without my permission. It might happen once a month if you are a good boy, a very, very good boy. Unfortunately for you, you won't get much pleasure out of it since it will be done in a way that gives only me pleasure. But at least you'll be able to empty your blue balls. And I will allow that, just because I love you soooo much."
Markie just blurted out, without thinking, "But why, Da-Da? Why can't you cum-cum?"
"It's all to help you, Markie, my son. Maybe you're not thinking clearly. Here, let me give you another vitamin." And in went another white bitter pill, which Markie swallowed without any need for water. "As we'll learn to keep your dickie all nice and hard for Daddy and his friends. This way, all my friends can clearly see how much you love me. The only thing that should matter to you is that everyone sees your dickie like a flagpole. And, of course, that it never be allowed to shoot and waste that pent-up baby cream. That's Daddy's treat and Daddy's only.
"You will learn, and… damn it, son! I'll help you along. No matter what it takes! You can always count on me, Markie. I won't disappoint you as your folks and every other person has. I'll be there for you, my silly little bumpkin." Daddy squeezed Markie's nose playfully."
Then, as Daddy let go of Markie's nose, he placed his hand right back down to Markie's diaper-covered soft dick and lightly petted the small bulge there. It was just the way it would be from now on. Daddy was in no hurry. He just wanted to tease Markie's dick because he liked to and because he owned it. It was just his habit and now his toy. Even if that dick was too tired and drained to come alive again, it needed constant stimulation, no matter how slight it might be.
"OK, enough for tonight; you need some rest. Tomorrow, I'll take you out to Mike's Ball's, the local pool hall."
"But I have no cose to wear, Da-Da? They were awh messed up and muddy with piss a week ago. I want to peas your friends, but I have nothing to wear." Markie was so confused. He was still learning not to ask questions, but it just blurted out. His thinking was more clouded by the pills and the indoctrinating treatment he was receiving from his new Daddy. The will of his Daddy was being implanted and replacing his own values.
"Oh, Markie, you make me smile. You can be so funny. That's why I love you, son. You are such a silly weenie, Mar-Mar. You won't be wearing clothes tomorrow or ever again. Tomorrow was the big day. Officer Michaels was going to take Mark to the pool hall where he regularly hung out with his cop buddies and introduce Mark to them. He had thought up a complex series of lies to make sense to his buds.
Mark again asked about his clothes. "You won't be wearing clothes tomorrow, men to wear. I already burned those smelly, muddy rags a week ago, including what was in your pockets. What are YOU going to do with a wallet? You silly-nilly little weenie. You can't even read anymore. Remember?" Daddy laughed out loud, not at Markie, but at the idea that he needed any personal stuff. Mark held his mouth and eyes wide open in disbelief. Daddy continued, "I realize that when you ran away from home, you probably put every precious item you owned in your backpack, things that are dear to you and important for your survival, at least dear and important in your previous life."
"I didn't want to intrude on your privacy, son, so I did not go through your backpack and pockets. I considered that was all your personal property, and I had no business checking it out. I never even opened up that stuff. I just tossed the entire bulky backpack, still zipped up, on top of the fire. And your pocket-filled clothes too. So, you are relieved of all your excess baggage, as physiologists call it. You are now free, free to depend totally on your Da-Da." Again, Daddy pinched Markie's nose in jest and smiled fully into the boy's confused blank stare.
"But, Sir? What about my iPod and my driver's license, my school…"
"STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!" Daddy abruptly yelled in a loud rage as he harshly slapped Markie's face, startling him. "You will never EVER speak to me like that EVER again. If you want Da-Da's love and kindness, you will behave properly to your Da-Da." Markie was frightened. He never wanted to see Daddy angry like that again. It was just the shock of losing everything. He freaked out but then calmed down and tried again in the proper way.
“Mar-Mar is so sorwee, Da-Da. But Da-Da? Mar-Mar's phone, Mar-Mar's stuff? Awh gone, Da-Da?" Mar-Mar whimpered. Just as quickly as Daddy displayed immediate anger and rejection, he switched to a demeanor of love and fatherly care. It was contrived, of course.
"What, Mar-Mar? What are you going to do with stuff like an iPod gadget? Who would you contact? Everyone who cares about you is right here, sitting beside you. What are you gonna do? Call to have new diapers delivered? Or your wallet? What in the world would my itsy-bitsy little Mar-Mar do with money or your I.D.? Or any of that useless crap? You'll be naked at home and when we go visit my friends. You need nothing, nothing except the love and care of your wonderful Da-Da. Don't you?" Markie nodded, all transfixed with eyes glazed over, hanging on his Daddy's every decisive word. It was getting to him now more than ever. Daddy was the only one he needed in his life. Markie felt that no one else loved him or wanted him. And this new Daddy was offering him a whole new world, including love and care. Yes, those bitter pills he was given helped to cloud his thinking, but this Daddy's wishes were now the focus of his life.
"Mar-Mar, if I take you to the mall or elsewhere in public, you'll wear diapers. You silly bumpkin. Why are you so foolish?" Daddy laughed. Markie's look of shock slowly morphed into one of embarrassment, as he could no longer think of any reason why he would need any of his "stuff," including his clothes, wallet, cell, or I.D.
Daddy reached out and lightly tickled Mar-Mar under his chin, "Gichie-gichie-goo." Daddy was all smiles as he looked deeply into his baby's eyes, seeing no resistance. “Gichie-gichie-goo.” Except for his baby's adult, muscle-toned build, there was virtually nothing left of the high school jock.
It took a while, but something snapped in Mark Harman's brain, or psychie. He just let go of the hurtful past. He was all done. No more fighting, no more thinking, no more asking stupid questions. He was Mar-Mar.
Markie gave his Daddy a stupid but honest smile reflecting his true comfort in his new helpless infant status. He would soon be weaned off the bitter, mind-altering pills and allowed to fully sleep each night. These tactics would not be needed in a few more weeks. Markie's desperate, physiological need to be wanted and loved, even if he had to be Da-Da's baby, was used by Daddy in conjunction with the pills to transform Mark over the years. Daddy carefully orchestrated all forces to replace the toddler son he had lost 15 years ago to illness, who would now be about Markie's age.
Officer Dan Michaels, now known as Daddy or Da-Da, set Markie on the bed in a sitting-up position and reached over and picked up the mostly empty baby bottle, which still had a residue smell of that rancid tasting "apple juice." He then unzipped his fly, fished out his dick, inserted it in the top of the bottle, and again filled it full of warm piss. After screwing the rubber nipple top on, he handed the bottle to Markie, using an exaggerated smile of excitement to encourage his excitement in getting something wonderful. "Mar-Mar, look what Da-Da has. Wow, just for Mar-Mar. Here you go Mar-Mar. Yes, yes; there you go, my cute little weenie baby. Yes, you are. Here's more of Da-Da's great-tasting apple juice. Da-Da wuvs you." Daddy used all baby talk now in his communications with the former Mark Hartman. "Here's Mar-Mar's apple juice, nice, warm, and fresh from Da-Da."
There was no questioning, no analytical thought from the former high school jock. Markie watched Da-Da fill the bottle, but it never dawned on him that anything was wrong. Instead, he giggled with joy as he mimicked and accepted Da-Da's jubilation. As the baby bottle touched his forehead, he lilted his face upward, anticipating this wonderful reward. "Here you go, pumpkin. Da-Da will always take care of you."
Markie happily sucked down the bottle full of warm, yellowish pee, giggled, and belched as he downed it. The former, self-confident, straight, high school athletic star sat next to his Da-Da and gladly wallowed in his Da-Da's attention, training, and love. “Tank uew, Da-Da, I wuv uew, Da-Da.”
Daddy knew Markie was now ready to be taken to the pool hall in the afternoon, where he could be displayed and shown off to his buds. Clearly, he'd still be on the mind-fogging bitter white pills, just to be sure all went according to the police officer's plan. He will be so happy to present his new pride and toy. Daddy's friends would take turns cuddling Markie, feeding him, toying with him, and changing his diapers as needed or not.
The obvious question is why would Officer Michaels' friends, some of them were police officers themselves, have anything to do with the complete mental and psychological unmaking of a healthy, good-looking 18-year-old high school kid? Maybe Officer Michaels is insane, but his friends and fellow officers are not. He, indeed, planned every detail, including presenting his new "baby" son to his friends.
Markie was now lying down on the bed, alone, in his pee-soaked, cum-filled diaper covering his stiff, useless boner, fading away into a much-needed sleep as he unconsciously sucked his thumb. Officer Michaels closed the special door that hid that room and went to his desk to make a call.
"Hey, George, how ya doing, guy? (Listening) That's good. Say, I want to let you and our buds know that my life has changed quite a bit. (Listening) Yeah, well, I have just assumed legal responsibility for my nephew Mark from back East. (Listening) Yeah, he'll be living with me. (Listening) He's 18, but the poor feller was in a terrible accident and had severe brain damage. (Listening) Actually, it happened a few years ago, but his Mom can't take care of him anymore, so I stepped up to do whatever I could. (Listening) No, he's not disfigured; he's quite a handsome lad, but he has the mind of an infant. … Yeah, wears diapers, eats baby food, and drinks from a bottle, mainly apple juice. (Listening) No, he does not say much; he mainly sucks his thumb and talks baby talk. (Listening) He likes to be called Mar-Mar. (Listening) Oh, it might be a little tough at first, but he and I will get into a routine."
"What's that? (Listening) No, I tried to get him to break the habit of thumb-sucking, but … (Listening) Well, he really behaves and thinks like a baby. So, we're all fine with that, aren't we? (Listening) You're so understanding. And I'm glad to just help out. You know, do what I can. After all, I am his uncle."
Office Michael seemed to have no problem spewing out lies; he's practiced enough in his head. It just rolled off his tongue as if it were all the truth. "Look, let our buds know so they won't be freaked out when we come by the pool hall tomorrow. Ah … (Listening) About three o'clock, I guess. Look, tell the guys he is adult-sized but with the mind of a toddler, and treat him like a true baby. No, no one needs to feel bad or sad. I'm sure Mark would sense that, which would be a downer for him. Know what I mean? (Listening) Everyone should just be happy to meet him.
" You know, George, I never thought about it, … but … yeah, … now that you mention it, he does remind me of the sweetie I lost 15 years ago. My little Jimmy would be 18 right now. (Listening) Yea, that is uncanny. (Listening) And since you mentioned that, when he was first brought to me a few days ago and … ah … from the very first big body hug he so lovingly gave me, he called me Da-Da."
"Oh, hey, I've known you guys for a long time. I hope you don't mind helping out. I mean, like if I'm playing pool, one of you can feed him his baby bottle of apple juice, OK? (Listening) Oh, and do worry if his apple juice seems warm. I was told he likes it like that. (Listening) Oh, I'll bring a diaper bag of stuff, and his pacifier and fresh diapers with me, too. So if he needs changing or any other attention, I hope you can take turns feeding or playing with him. (Listening) No. (Listening) Don't put me on no fucking pedestal." Michaels was forcibly laughing it up. (Listening) "I'm just doing what any loving uncle would do. Yeah, he loves to laugh. God, I love it when he giggles and calls me Da-Da. He's a sweet baby. I mean … well … you know what I mean. So you'll help out? (Listening) That's great. (Listening) Yeah, call some of the guys and let them know I'm bringing Mar-Mar. (Listening) Thank them in advance for me. (Listening) We'll see you around three tomorrow." The End
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