Climb Every Mountain

By Tom Gungy - Tomgungy@gmail.com
published March 31, 2020
3759 words
Summary

When the world is taken over by an evil mastermind with a diaper fetish, only one man (might maybe) be able to stop him: Bryson Ryder, Rebellion Leader.

Ryder waited patiently as the patrol of crinkling guards waddled below. Had you told the man hiding in the vent above the marching battalion that society would collapse to a domineering mastermind with a diaper fetish some years ago, he would’ve thought you were insane, but this was the bizarre reality Bryson Ryder now grappled with. Being a social outcast of sorts, he’d neve gone to the public that Dr. Edwards, now Lord Edwards to most of the brainwashed masses, had exerted influence into. He’d exercised and worked out privately, was in a dating slump at the time, and was even between jobs while Dr. Edwards had begun slithering through all the precise channels to popularize himself as a “philosopher” and “lifestyle guide”. His doctorate, however, was in psychology, specifically in hypnosis and specializing toward mental manipulation. He had an innate gift for changing people’s minds, and the more screen time and attention he was given, the more his influence exponentially grew. He became a regular guest of country leaders and a shadowy sort of figure in politics all over the world. He became known as a problem solver, a communicator without bounds, and when the United Nations announced a world-wide government under Edwards’ control, people from all over the globe cheered, applauding their surrender without realizing it.

Then the crack-downs began. Everyone accepted them with eager readiness, Edwards’ popularity being at an all-time high even as he played the entirety of humanity like a fiddle. He began mandating curfews and assemblage restrictions to ease any supposed tensions while transitioning to his new world order. In reality, he was salting the earth to prevent any rebel factions from sprouting, but no one seemed to notice as Edwards instituted required viewings of his propaganda, inconspicuously called “briefings”, that most found extremely convincing and enlightening. Obviously it was all some sort of plot to brainwash the greater population, or the most bizarre implementation might not have been as popular, yet when Edwards informed the public that they were expected to wear diapers, “uniform underwear” as he called it, everyone tossed out their underpants without a shadow of a doubt. The theoretical reasoning behind the required padding was to alleviate the need for plumbing to some effect, but logic was a formality by that point. Ryder was disgusted to have to fake his daily propaganda screenings and pretend to wear a diaper like the rest, but the rest complied to the dictator’s every whim. When he told them to squat, they unflinchingly filled their pampers with the largest load they could manage.

Ryder himself disregarded such nonsense. Being the leader of one of the last resistance cells, he hadn’t worn a diaper since infancy and planned to keep it that way, and the rest of his minor team did the same. They had to be secretive about their subtle neglect of the absurd rules in place, however, and planned their disruptions of Edwards’ rule after curfew and in private. The other resistance factions hadn’t been as cautious, choosing to conduct large-scale demonstrations and riots, and while it’d produced a beautiful display of passion, they’d inevitably always been caught, brainwashed, and returned to the general populace as a “productive”, padded member of society. Sometimes they suffered a worse fate, becoming one of Edwards’ “boys” like the patrols below Ryder, mindless and diapered drones obeying the dictator’s every order with worshipful servitude. That’s why Ryder’s team had taken care to incapacitate certain key targets with limited liability. They aimed for maximum impact with low risk, yet the opportunity before Ryder was too great to resist in the air duct of one of the most highly protected government facilities in the world. Edwards was in town, and the rebel intended to pay him a visit.

The moment the patrols had passed, Ryder slipped quietly to the floor from a grate he opened. Clad in a form-fitting suit of black stretch net spandex, he moved lightly on his feet and blended well with the evening’s shadows. He crept for the nearby door. A mechanism beside the entrance had inputs for retinal scanning, thumbprint recognition, and a typed password that Ryder knew was randomly generated at inhumanly tight intervals, impossible to crack without a key. Luckily, his team’s intelligence gathering had revealed a fault in the system. Ryder scanned the hallway for incoming guards before slamming his elbow into the wall beside the panel with a precision strike. The simple drywall crumbled away to expose a multitude of wires stretching to the machine. Tying a few of them together caused the surrounding lights to flicker and the mechanism’s screen to glow green. Ryder then simply opened the door and slipped inside.

The information he’d received from his team had informed him that Edwards would be through the door, that Ryder would step into the dictator’s private chambers and would only need to find the man asleep to end his maniacal rule. He was then shocked and surprised to find his team bound, blindfolded, and gagged in a large circular room which looked nothing like the schematics suggested it would. None of them said anything, and the only sound that echoed throughout the bleak, austere enclosure was a slight crinkling. Each of Ryder’s collected rebels were clad in nothing but skintight undershirts over their training-toned torsos and thick diapers covering their rumps. An audio track played on a loop over some intercom above their heads.

“And now we come to another mountain. This one is called Independence. Independence is your independence. You love Independence, don’t you? It allows you to act on your own, but Independence is still blocking your view, isn’t it? So we must slowly, surely, and calmly wear it down.”

A chorus of euphoric moans rose from your men.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” the track continued, blind and uncaring for how it affected the listeners.

Ryder, however, was horrified. He recklessly charged across the room to the first man in the semi-circle of bound captives, Bradly. He was effectively Ryder’s second in command, a disciplined man of thirty years who generally was more prone to action over words. He saw to it that Ryder’s team was kept in top shape while the leader was away on more dangerous missions, and now he sat tied next to them, diapers as obscenely tented as the rest. Ryder did his best to ignore his second in command’s unseemly appearance and the recording unceasingly speaking on mountains above them as he removed the clasps holding Bradly in place.

“Bradly?” Ryder murmured in a low voice, unbinding the man’s mouth from the gag. “Can you hear me?”

“R- Ryder?” he groaned. “Ryder, be careful… Don’t listen to…”

Bradly trailed off, and the recording from above filled the silence.

“Bradly!” Ryder quietly growled, yanking the blindfold from his compatriot’s face. “Focus!”

“I’m- I’m sorry, sir,” Bradly stammered, staring through Ryder with blank, dazed eyes and an expression of internal struggle. “I’m trying. It’s just… so hard…”

“Well, stop trying and just do it,” Ryder hissed. “We’re getting out of here, and I need your help.”

“Yes, sir,” he puffed, shaking his head as if trying to wake up.

The pair then set to untying the rest of the team. Ryder unbounded his demolition expert, a huge guy named Whistler that was easily twice Ryder’s size in muscle and at least a foot taller. Despite being the most knowledgeable with explosives, he was a big softy when a gun wasn’t pointed at him, prone to warm words of encouragement and bear hugs. Ryder had barely begun to remove the gag from his mouth when the track was talking about another mountain, one called Defiance.

“And what will we do to this mountain?” the track asked rhetorically.

“Oh, please, blow it up!” Whistler’s newly freed mouth moaned in answer.

“Whsitler?” Ryder prompted, giving the man a tap on the side of his face. “Come to, buddy.”

The big man’s eyes started to focus on Ryder, and a blush came over Whistler’s face.

“Uh, sorry boss,” he grunted distractedly. “Those guys really know how to do a number on a fella.”

“I know,” Ryder sympathetically agreed. “Try to keep up though. We’re getting out of here.”

While Ryder had been helping Whistler, Bradly had stood swaying gently in front of Horne, the young computer tech with the build of a college swimmer.

He’d been about to untie the man, but the track playing had been so appealing to the cloudy-minded rebel. What ample willpower he had left quickly expended itself before Bradly even had a chance to kneel down and get his hands of the clasps binding his compatriot. It seemed as if he was coasting like a car put in neutral, and the track was the smooth, unyielding asphalt, leading him easily on to places he didn’t know. In a way, he didn’t care to know. It was so much easier to be the car, a tool to be steered by someone who knew the road, someone who’d keep taking him over these mountains blocking the view…

“Bradly!”

The man slowly came to as Ryder vigorously shook his shoulders. The rest of the team wasn’t in much of a better state either. In the time it’d taken Ryder to free Whistler, the other two following him had become droopy-eyed again, gently moaning after each of those damned mountains. His hope was that once he escorted the bunch out of the strange detainment room they’d be less prone to the sudden unresponsiveness that seemed to overtake them while listening to the track.

“Bradly,” Ryder growled, “pull yourself together, damn it!”

“So sorry… sir,” Bradly apologized haltingly.

“Everybody,” Ryder commanded the trio of dazed expressions before him, “to the exit, now!”

“Leaving so soon?”

The recording had suddenly stopped, but the same voice suddenly addressed them. Ryder lifted his gaze to notice a tall square of the circular room’s wall became translucent, revealing it as an observation window. Through it was smiling an extremely familiar figure, Dr. Edwards. Wearing his usual, fashionable suit that hugged his well-kept body, the gray-haired gentleman regarded Ryder like a young child he’d just caught with its hand in the cookie jar. Ryder, in turn, bore an expression of deep, dark rage.

“Fuck you, bastard!” he shouted. “We’re getting out of here or die trying!”

“Really?” Edwards asked in mock surprise. “Do your teammates share that sentiment?”

“Of course they do!” Ryder shouted before turning to check on his men. “They-”

He stopped abruptly as he saw a familiar dazed expression across each of their faces.

“Fight it, guys!” Ryder hissed to his team through gritted teeth.

They flinched slightly, eyeing Ryder with troubled expressions as they fought against whatever Edwards had done to them.

“Raymon?” Edwards called over the intercom. “It is Raymon. Isn’t it?”

Horne’s gaze turned from Ryder to Edwards’ fatherly smile.

“You were the one that cracked our firewall, wetren’t you?” he asked warmly. “You’re a very bright boy for your age, but you can’t see past the mountain can you?”

A low moan escaped Horne’s lips as the distracted glaze returned to his eyes. His diaper crinkled obscenely as his subsiding swelling suddenly returned to its full tenting capacity.

“Stop that!” Ryder roared at Edwards before turning to his men. “Don’t listen to him!”

“Calm down, Bryson,” Edwards chuckled. “I was just telling my little Ray-Ray about the mountains. You love talking about the mountains, don’t you Ray-Ray?”

“Love… wearing down… the mountains,” Horne droned.

“Horne!” Ryder growled. “Snap out of it!”

“It seems like Bry has a lot of mountains to remove, doesn’t he boys?” Edwards cooed.

There was a chorus of moans and coos in return, each in agreement. Ryder scowled at the grinning man through the glass. He had no idea how the doctor knew his first name, let alone all the team’s first names, considering they’d never shared them for just such an eventuality, or how he’d lured them all here to this obvious trap, but he was beyond livid at the apparent betrayal by his team, manipulated or otherwise. It was obvious that Edwards held all the cards in the situation, and Ryder struggled to develop a plan that foresaw him and all his friends getting free.

“Well, I have a proposal then,” Dr. Edwards smiled. “Bryson, if you allow me to help you like I’ve helped these other boys here, you can leave with your friends in tow if you’d like.”

A silence descended over the room as Ryder considered the offer.

“So basically, you try to mind-fuck me like everyone else on this god-forsaken planet, and if you fail, I walk?”

“That’s not how I’d word it,” Dr. Edwards answered with a chuckle, “but yes.”

There was another silence before Ryder gave a slight nod.

“Fine,” he growled. “For my team.”

“Very good,” Edwards commended. “Please step towards me then.”

Ryder proceeded to the center of the room, leaving his dazed subordinates behind him. As he did, the walls of the cylindrical chamber illuminated around him. Images began to fill his surroundings, each having something to do with Bryson Ryder. Hospital records, browsing history, basic preferences, and even surveillance photos of him up to a few days ago. Edwards’ goons had clearly been tracking him for a while. Ryder idly wondered if he’d led them to his team or if it was the other way around. Either way, he supposed it didn’t matter. They were all here now, and Ryder was going to save them. He glared at the screens with determination as they suddenly flickered, changing to display a beautiful ocean scene. The waves lapped at the sky, reflecting the golden light of the low sun. The water swirled and swayed in such a way that Ryder found it hard not to marvel at its majesty.

He watched the display for some time, not noticing he’d lost focus and allowed his mind to become serenely quiet. The ocean stole all his attention, and he was increasingly aware of how far away the sun had become over time. He had no idea how long he’d been standing there gawking, but the vision’s beauty, though still enrapturing, had slowly diminished to a fraction of what it was since he’d started, and now something else was coming into view. He was standing on a beach now, and that wonderful ocean was stretched out before him. Why was he still going backwards? Ryder gasped as an enormous protrusion rose into the sky, blocking the ocean from view. It was a mountain.

Ryder shook his head, shutting his eyes tight. He suddenly became aware of the fact that he had been staring at that stupid display for what now seemed like hours. He hadn’t been on some beach, there was no ocean, and there certainly was no mountain.

“I know what you’re trying to do!” he cried out. “It won’t work!”

“I’m only trying to show you my vision, Bryson,” Dr. Edwards said patiently. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Ryder couldn’t stop himself from glancing up at the screen, reflexively responding to the question. The ocean was back on display, a beach still in frame but utterly breath-taking anyway.

“Yes,” Ryder sighed euphorically.

“I want the entire world to be as serene as this, Bryson,” Edwards explained, “safe and calm, but some people don’t want this.”

“What?” Ryder cried in panic.

The view was panned back again, and Ryder found himself standing before a mountain.

“That’s why you havn’t seen the beauty of my plans until now,” Edwards continued. “You’re blocking your own view with mountains. You’re one of those people.”

Tears sprung to Ryder’s eyes. His entire paradigm shifted at that moment, and he was overwhelmed by an avalanche of shame and despair.

“I’m so sorry, Lord Edwards!” he cried between sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

“Aw, it’s alright lil’ Bry-Bry,” Edwards cooed in his fatherly tone. “You just didn’t know any better.”

Ryder sniffed like an upset child before a smile crept across his lips. Lord Edwards was excellent at making him feel better.

“Now, let’s work on taking down these mountains,” the doctor encouraged. “Now do you know the name of this mountain?”

Ryder shook his head innocently.

“This is Resistance,” Edwards stated. “This is your resistance. It helps you do things that are hard, things other people don’t want you to do. You like your resistance, don’t you?”

The latex-clad man nodded with a smile. He’d dedicated much his life to resisting the norm. Sure it’d led him astray with Lord Edwards, but it also helped Ryder do the right thing in life. It was part of who he was, an integral part even.

“But you love my vision more, don’t you?”

Ryder emphatically nodded. There was no doubt in the man’s mind.

“Then we’re going to wear resistance down, and we’ll get one mountain closer to the view,” Edwards said. “Doesn’t that make you feel good?”

As Ryder watched my resistance crumble and fall, a central tenet of his identity, he felt his cock suddenly grew firm in his suit, throbbing from the euphoria of abiding by Edwards’ plan. He was disappointed, however, when another mountain came into view. Ryder’s smile dissipated into a frown of consternation.

“Naughty boys often have more mountains than good ones,” Edwards cooed, “and you were a very naughty boy, Bry-Bry. THat’s why we’re going to wear down all of your mountains, right?”

Ryder nodded, coking back a lump in his throat. He certainly wanted to be a good boy for Lord Edwards.

“Now this mountain is called Adulthood,” explained Edwards. “This is your adulthood. Adults do a lot of things boys like you shouldn’t do. That’s why you’re so happy to have adults like me around to guide you, right Bry-Bry?”

Another nod came from Ryder, smiling again.

“You’d do anything to be a good boy, right?”

“Yes, Lord Edwards!” Ryder excitedly cried.

“Good,” Edwards warmly lauded. “Remove that icky uniform for me then, boy. Only adults wear stuff like that.”

Ryder gazed down at his uniform in shock and disgust. When he’d put it on, it’d seemed so normal! To think he’d allow himself to do something so clearly wrong, it was obvious evidence of how badly he needed a real adult. He removed the suit with ginger movements, so repulsed by the clothing that he didn’t even want to touch it. Removing it exposed a broad, muscular chest speckled with body hair. His sizable, semi-erect cock dangled freely between his bulky, strong legs. He smiled sheepishly up at the mountain, embarrassed by his nudity but thrilled for his abandonment of adulthood. The mountain, however, remained.

“Chucky? Leo?” Edwards called. “Can you help Bry-Bry get dressed? Remember, good boys help other good boys!”

With a duet of moans, Ryder became aware of Bradly and Whistler standing with him. Whistler had some sort of cannister in his hand, and Bradly had a thick diaper in his grasp.

“Lay down, Bry-Bry,” Edwards instructed. “Let Chucky pad you up.”

Ryder flopped onto the floor with unquestioning obedience, looking eagerly up to his second in command. Bradly smiled back, his expression full of the same empty-headed mirth that Ryder experienced, before stooping down to position a thick, crinkly diaper under his commander’s hairy butt. He wasn’t shy in lifting Ryder’s legs to do the job and took special care to point the team leader’s swelling member downward. Then Whistler, presumably Leo, gently powdered Ryder’s loins with all the care of a loving older sibling, smiling warmly down at Ryder as he did. With the commander’s cock coated in white, Bradly pulled the diaper over his crotch and taped it firmly in place.

“Very good, boys!” the observing doctor commended, resulting in another cacophony of moans from the men.

“That leaves only one last thing, Bry-Bry.”

Ryder listened anxiously as Edwards asked, “Do adults have potty training?”

Ryder nodded.

“Are you an adult?”

“No, sir!” Ryder cried urgently.

“Should you have potty training?”

Ryder shook his head with an innocent smile.

“Then pay close attention to your bladder, Bry-Bry,” Edwards instructed. “Let it swell with all your knowledge of right and wrong. I’ll handle all that for you now. Feel it bursting your remaining independence and memories of the outside world, as good boys never stray far from the adults in charge. All that you remember from the world are just figments of your childish imagination.” Ryder nodded agreeably, crossing his legs and impatiently shifting his weight from one to another.

“Bry-Bry?” the doctor called.

“Yes, Lord Edwards?” Ryder answered.

“Do you have potty training?” he asked. “Or are you a good boy with no bladder control?”

“I-”

Before the diapered rebellion leader could even answer, a sudden warmth that engulfed his loins, he looked down to see his diapers swell with a yellow tinge, all his adult mind seeping into the thirsty fabric of his ballooning diaper. Ryder grinned stupidly at the infinite garment as the muffled hiss of his urination echoed in the quiet. He tried to think back to his former life, but the memories had faded like a half-forgotten dream. As he pondered whether that was good or not, he was pleased to find that he didn’t know. Edwards was in charge of what was good and bad now, and the thought of the simple-minded boy he’d become caused Ryder’s cock throb in euphoria.

He was such a good boy!

As if in confirmation, the mountain before him came crumbling downwards, and Ryder found himself yowling in pleasure as he surrendered himself to Edwards, cumming in his diapers, only to encounter another mountain.

“This mountain is Independent Thought…”

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