| Title:
| My Journey
|
| Name:
| AGR
|
| Email:
| Not shown
|
| Gender:
| Male
|
| Current Age:
| 43
|
| Posting Date:
| 10/18/09
|
| Story Contents:
|
| A- Post-toddler (4-8)* | | R- Sisters, other girls* |
| | B- Pre-teen (9-12)* | ● | S- Babysitters | ●
| | C- Teen (13-17) | ● | T- Masturbation |
| | D- Adult (18+) | ● | U- Sexual situations |
| | E- Cloth diapers* | ● | V- Gay |
| | F- Disposable diapers | | W- Erections |
| | G- Pee | | X- Bedwetting | ●
| | H- Poop* | | Y- Accidents |
| | I- Exposed diapers/pantslessness* | | Z- Punishment/Diaper Discipline |
| | J- Multiple diapers* | | 1- Female Domination* |
| | K- Baby paraphernalia | | 2- Enemas |
| | L- Mother | | 3- Restraints |
| | M- Father | | 4- Crying |
| | N- Aunt | | 5- Spanking |
| | O- Uncle | | 6- Humiliation |
| | P- Brothers (diapered) | | 7- Babying | ●
| | Q- Brothers (not diapered) | | 8- Regression |
| | *Denotes Deekerian story
elements
|
|
| Summary:
|
Kid trying to make his way across country gets waylaid by family that lost a kid.
|
| Deekerian Score (20 is max.)
[?]:
|
4 (20%)
|
My name is James, but no-one ever call me by that name. Everyone always
called me Jimmy, at least as long as I can remember. The story I am
about to tell you is very strange...I leave it to the reader to
ascertain the truth of it. There are lots of places in this story to
start and maybe one day I will tell them all. My access to the computer
has been very limited in the last few months, so I will only be able to
post updates as I can find access and time to write.
I guess the best place to start is telling a little about myself. At
least as much as I can condense to get to a reasonable beginning to
this latest chronicle of my life. At this writing I am 18 years old,
but you wouldn't know it to look at me. My parent died when I was
twelve. I had no other relatives and my parents didn't leave a guardian
for me. I suppose no one expects to be killed by a drunk driver. I
can't tell you how much I still miss them and if the truth be told, I
still cry when I think of how much I miss them. My memories of them
were very fond. It seemed that I was their number on focus, which is
quite true since I had no other siblings. The accepted me for who I was
and never got cross about my accidents or physical issues. The
accidents were bed-wetting incidents that seemed to happen every night
and the physical issues were a very stunted growth. I'm not a
freakishly short midget, in fact I it just seems like growth never
seemed to catch up with me. At 12 I was 40 inches tall. I don't suppose
I ever really felt the full brunt of this as my parents home schooled
me. And my parents weren't oblivious to the fact that I needed medical
attention. A month before they died I was evaluated by our local
doctor, who recommended hormone therapy to kick in my growth phase. He
said I would be able to make it to be over five feet tall. This isn't
that much, but from where I was it was like being a giant. I was very
skinny too, which added so much to my physical deportment that I was
often taken for a three year old. After the accident and subsequent
death of my parents all of this was put on hold. After things settled,
it was put on hold indefinitely due to the callous nature of the foster
family I was sent to live with.
The state took care of everything. My parents had left me with a
babysitter, Jessica, a sixteen year old high school student. The police
knocked on the door and explained the situation to the Jessica who
turned me over to them. Jessica hurriedly packed a suitcase for me,
including the cloth diapers and plastic pants I used for my nighttime
problem. A female police officer explained that my parents were in an
accident and I needed to go with her. I cried and cried, but the final
destination was already set. I was turned over to a foster family
headed by a woman named Cynthia Hollow. She was a piece of work. A
seventh day advent who put the kabash on any hopes I had for hormone
therapy. Every time I asked about getting it she would say that God had
made me this way and I should be glad of it. She was also the sadistic
person I have ever met.
After I was dropped off at the Hollow house (as she would call it) it
all began. First, after she saw me, she said �Lord, another baby to
take care of�. It was explained that I was twelve, but this didn't seem
to matter to her. I was stuck in the same room as a two year old and a
three year old that all required diapers. An eleven year old girl,
Lizzy was given responsibility for the kids in this room, including me.
As this isn't the main point of this story I'll breeze over it (maybe
I'll write later about this very, very dark time in my life). She
humiliated my for my entire stay at the Hollow house, daytime diapers
in addition to night time diapers. Being dragged in front of her
friends (to make matters worse I was in the grade above her). School
was hell.
Let me fast forward to a month before I turned eighteen. Due to Mrs.
Hollows neglect about my size I had grown a disappointing 3 inches. I
was now 43 inches. But still I was very slender and hadn't experienced
any signs of puberty. About a month before my 18th birthday I was told
by a lawyer that I was going to inherit a trust of $20,000.00. I didn't
know whether I was going to cry or scream for joy. I had my ticket out
of Hollows nightmare and I wasn't going to waste it. A good friend that
I had met during high school was a girl named Naomi Smith. We plotted
what we would do after graduation and she was the one who figured out
what I was going to do. She had found a talent agent in New York that
was very interested in a person my age that looked like a four year
old. The talent agent had promised me that he could make me a star. All
I had to do was get to New York and I would be guaranteed success. This
was all I needed. The day I turned eighteen I set out on my epoch
journey.
Okay, we are up to normal time now. I waited until Liz had put my
diaper on and gotten me ready for bed. Little known to her I had gotten
an account setup and funded with my inheritance. The lawyer had also
helped me get an ATM card!!! And most importantly an ID that stated I
was an adult.
That night, after Lizzy had put us down for the night, I got up and got
dressed. I tossed away my diaper and put on daytime underwear and
clothes. I had packed my book bag it with some clothes and spare
diapers (I understood the reality of my bed wetting). I headed out of
the house and went to the bus stop. This was the beginning of my
travels as an adult. Or so I thought.
�One way ticket to New York? Isn't it a little late for you to up
sonny?�
I hated people like this. But I loved flashing my California ID in
front of him. It was like a get out of jail card...literally. Even the
cops he called over couldn't dispute it. The next thing I knew I was on
a bus to New York with $200 in my pocket and a new lease on life.
I suppose there are those who are reading this thinking �he got away�,
but there are many more people that seem just as intent on spoiling a
good thing. This happened to me in the middle of Utah at some out of
the way bus stop.
The snow had been falling all night and when we pulled into the station
we were supposed to have a 30 minute stopover. Maybe it was all of the
candy I had purchased with my new found fortune or the fact I hadn't
slept for over a day, but I was hyped and tired. When I disembarked I
was a mess. All I could do was head to the bathroom and throw up. When
I finished the bus had gone and the bus terminal was empty. And this is
where my story really starts.
Sorry, someone�s coming. I have to stop now. More to come next tim
Notes: part 1. Hope to get more soon. Last spelling error is not a
typo. Fictitious writer was rushed. Someone coming.