My Foster
Family
This story is based
on real facts, however, parts of the plot have been altered to protect the
identity of me, and all those in the story. The names are
fictional.
Part 1:
Introductions
Living in a foster
home is not that bad, as long as you get the right one. I have lived in foster
homes for 5 years, and I have had a ‘good home’ for the complete time.
My childhood was
not one that was as most. That is to say, it was not brilliant. I lived in an
old house, which was far too big for our family. I was an only child. It’s sort
of ironic, because, normally, only children have really good childhoods, and are
quite often spoilt. I was, however, almost the complete opposite. My mom and dad
were both alcoholics, and were quite often doing drugs. The only real reason
that I survived was because of my next-door neighbour, who looked after me.
Being a mother of 3, Carol (that’s my next-door neighbour) was happy to have
another person at each meal. Mom and dad were just happy that they didn’t have
to feed me, and would pay Carol for the trouble. It was because of this neglect
that I was never really potty trained. Although I did try to do it myself, I
failed miserably, and by the age of three, I was changing my own diapers. When
it came to my fifth birthday, Carol got a bit worried, and called social
services.
This nice social
service worker came over to my house the next day, and asked me and my parents
questions. She looked around the house, and finally left. The day after, I was
whipped away from my parents. They never really cared. As far as anyone could
tell, they were happy to be rid of me. I was sent to a ‘Temporary Home for
Foster Children’. In other words, an old school that had been converted. It had
long dormitories, which we all slept in. there were not enough beds, so some of
us had to double. It seemed that almost half of the people wet the bed at night.
I lived in this excuse for a home for 1 week, while they sorted out a foster
home for me to go to. That week seemed to take forever, but I was thankful that
they supplied diapers.
As I said, it took
them about a week to find a home for me, although it seemed more like years. On
a Wednesday, I was told to dress as nicely as I could, and went off in a car
with two social workers. Now, I was pretty screwed up in the head, so I suppose
that I wasn’t really paying much attention to the nice people I was going to
see. I did notice, however, that their house seemed quite empty. It was a
reasonably sized house, and yet there was just this couple living in it. I
suppose it was the stress, but I noticed that they were very caring. I could
tell by the way that they looked at me, and told me all about the house. The
next thing I knew, I was living with them.
Part 2: The Current
Situation
From now on, in the
story, I’m going to call my foster parents Mom and Dad. Although they are not my
natural parents, they are about as close as I have had to real loving parents.
So, my mom and dad
were very nice. They didn’t get mad at me, and they didn’t smell of alcohol. It
seemed like life was going to brighten up a bit. And that it did. I was cared
for by these people, and they loved me as if I was their son. They didn’t care
that I was still in diapers at the age of 5, and even let me keep on wearing
them. I suppose that they must have understood that I had been through a lot.
The fact that I regularly woke up in the middle of the night, screaming,
probably helped. By the time I was seven, I had as good as forgotten my ‘real’
parents.
I am now 10. I
still wear the diapers, and I go to a special school. It seems that the area
that I am living in is full of foster children with the same ‘special need’ as
me. This meant that there was a sort of day-care school thing. It was like
school, only with full time nurses and oversize changing tables and stuff. It’s
a pretty cool place. All of the teachers teach you one-on-one, so you learn
really fast. We do all of the usual exams and stuff, we just wear stuff that
others don’t.
Below, I will
outline a typical day in my new life…
Part 3: A Day in
the Life of…
“Jimmy,” mom says
softly, “Its time to get up.”
I drag myself out
of bed, and walk into the bathroom. Mom is waiting there for me. As usual, the
bath is full of warm soapy water. I walk over to her, and lay down on the tiled
floor. I admire its coolness, while mom unpins my night-time diaper. I climb
into the tub, and grab my favourite toys. Call me babyish, I really don’t care.
In the last five years, I have been making up for the lack of a childhood. Mom
grabs a sponge, and rubs my upper torso with soapy water. She makes sure that my
face is clean, and then commands me to stand up. I obediently stand, and she
washes my diaper area and then my legs. I like the soft touch that she has. She
grabs a large towel, and wraps it round me. I step out of the bath, and let her
dry my whole body. She lays me down on the floor.
“What do you want
for breakfast?”
“I dunno. Make me
something nice.” I’m not very good at making decisions, especially early in the
morning. She pins a double cloth diaper on me, and picks out baby blue plastic
pants. She pats my bottom, and tells me to go get dressed.
My entire wardrobe
is toddler clothes. I have sleepers, overalls, shortalls, dungarees, trousers,
shorts, the works!
I pick out a bright
red t-shirt and yellow dungarees. I go downstairs, and walk into the kitchen.
There, sitting on the table, is a plate of pancakes. Pancakes are one of my
favourite breakfasts. I eat breakfast.
“Go outside, and
wait by the car, while I clear up the breakfast things.”
All of the people
on my estate know me, and most of them know about my past. I never bother to
dress normally, because everyone I’m likely to see know about me. It’s a nice
warm day, so I lay on the grass. Within minutes, mom is calling me to get into
the car. We drive a Mercedes.
By this point, it
is almost
As I said before,
my area is a haven of people with the same ‘Special Need’ as me, which means
that we have a special school. It was custom built, and is a wonderful building.
It hasn’t got classrooms, like most schools, it has separate study rooms. The
teachers teach you one-on-one, as there are actually only about 10 of us. All
our needs are taken care of, and there is a staff of nurses. Basically, if we
need a change, we politely excuse ourselves from whoever may be teaching us at
the time, and go off to get changed by one of the nurses. Once you have done,
you go back to your study, and carry on. As all of the children have the same
problem (i.e. the diapers), there is no teasing for it.
We pull up outside
the school, and mom comes in with the diapers. I see Mrs Brown walking down the
hall, and say good morning politely. We go to see the nurse, and mom drops me
off in the common room. We are about 5 minutes early, and there is only Freddy
here. He’s sitting in the corner, watching TV.
“Morning,” I greet
him. “You’re in early.”
“Mom’s going away
for the day” He explains
“Ah”
We just sit and
watch the TV. As it gets closer and closer to
My first teacher is
Mr Goodfellow. He teaches maths, and we are doing algebra. As I am quite good at
maths and science, I finish the exercise early, and ask if I may go ‘to the
nurse’. Mr Goodfellow nods, and I start off towards the nurse’s office. The
nurse is always nice, and when I arrive in the changing room, Johnny is getting
changed.
“Wait there, Jim,
and I’ll be with you in a sec,” the nurse says, not even pausing in changing
Johnny. Once Johnny is finished, I hop up onto the changing table.
“Hold on two secs”
I tell the nurse. I feel my bowels let loose into the seat of my diaper.
“There.” I say, “I’ve filled it for you.”
“Thanks” the nurse
says, sarcastically. July was on duty, and I’ve always got on with July. She
whips out her wipes, and proceeds to change me. The school changing tables were
custom made, like most of the furniture, and have hose attachments. July turns
on the hose, and adjusts the temperature, and then cleans my backside with it.
She dries me off with a towel, and then powders me up. In my mind, I am proud of
myself for not getting an erection. I usually get an erection when being
changed, but I suppose the embarrassment stopped it. I step down from the table,
and July pats my diapered bottom, motioning me to go back to work.
I go back to my
study, and do one more exercise before the bell goes.
Mr Goodfellow packs
up his stuff, and walks out of the door. I tidy up my maths stuff, and wait for
the next teacher to arrive. The timetables change every day, so I never know
what lesson I’m going to have. I am slightly surprised when a teacher that I had
never seen before walks in the door.
“Morning” she say,
cheerfully, “You must be Jim”
I just
nod
“I’m Mrs Pugsley.
I’m new, and I will be teaching you history.”
I nod
again.
She sits down. I
haven’t had history in a while, in fact not this term, so I get out a new file.
“This term, we are
going to be learning about World War II …” Mrs Pugsley starts, and the lesson
goes on.
At the end of the
second lesson, we have a break, which lasts half an hour. I walk into Joe’s
room. We talk about stuff, and soon the half hour is up. There are two more
lessons, and then lunch. Lunch is as boring as ever, and afterwards, the
equivalent to the head teacher calls everyone into the common room. He
introduces Mrs Pugsley to us, and tells us that Mrs Jones left us due to a sick
sister. Mrs Pugsley is to be the replacement, possibly forever, depending on
several aspects.
Straight after
lunch, we have more lessons. In the first period, instead of a teacher, the
doctor comes in.
“Afternoon, Jim,”
he greets me. “Everyone is having a checkup either
today or tomorrow.
“Now,” he says,
moving towards me, “I would like you to just lie down on the floor.” he lies
down a changing mat for me to lie on. I lie down.
“Are you having any
medical problems at the moment?” he asks. I shake my head. “Any pains, things
you think I should know?” I shake again.
He unpops my
shortalls, and takes them off. He lifts my t-shirt to around my neck. He takes
out a stethoscope, and starts to listen to my heart.
“Breath in,” I obey “And out … and in … and
out.
“That’s all ok, now
then. I need to look at you penis. Would you mind taking your diaper
off?”
he pulls a thermometer from his bag, and a tub
of Vaseline, and lays them on the floor. He puts on some latex gloves, and
starts to feel my penis. As you can imagine, with all that attention, it starts
to get a little hard.
“Right,” Dr.
Reynolds says, “That’s all normal then, roll over.” He lubricates the
thermometer, and then places it into my back passage. I feel it go in.
unfortunately, this only makes my penis even harder. He removes the thermometer,
and places his finger into my anus. I feel it explore. This is going to be a
problem. I feel it gather in my balls, and then it makes its way along my very
stiff penis. Just as he removes his hands, I reach an orgasm. My whole body goes
limp.
“Erm…” I stutter “Sorry about that”
“No, no. That’s
fine. I would be worried if that didn’t happen.” Dr Reynolds says, and he takes
a wet wipe, and wipes away the result of my orgasm. He powders my front, and
tapes a fresh diaper on me. He pulls my shortalls and t-shirt back on, and just
as he’s packing his bag, the bell goes. One more lesson and I’m out and going home.
The last lesson is
physics, which I find quite easy. Dr Elliot is nice, and lets me finish early, and just talks about stuff in the last ten minutes.
The final bell
rings, and I go outside to be picked up by dad.
“Good Day?” he
asks, as I climb into the front seat.
“The usual” I
reply.
When we get home, its tea, and then TV until
bed. Mom pins four
diapers on me for the night, and I fall asleep.
The next morning,
it all starts again!
The
End