Not My Real Parents
By Li'l Ninja
nifty_little_ninja@proton.me
https://LittleNinja.world

 

Super serious disclaimer: The characters and events in this story are entirely fictional. Any possible resemblances to real-life people or events within this story are purely coincidental, I swear! This story contains naughty things that you might find...well... naughty. If naughty stuff offends you or it is illegal for you to read in your state, country, town, city, or whatever, then bugger off elsewhere! - Or just use a VPN or something - If not, then grab a box of tissues [for your eyes, you dirty sod!] and let's get started.

A Note From The Ninja: Hey readers! So I found this short story that I wrote a few years back when I was a much younger teen. I don't remember exactly how old I was, but I was definitely still in school. Basically, it might not be very good, so please be kind to younger me. This story is just a quick jerk-off story with a little story at the start.

Anyone who may have read one of my other stories, 'Care' may notice similar themes and also a beloved character from it, too. Hehe. Enjoy.

Check out the blurb and photo for this story @ https://littleninja.world/stories/notmyrealparents

Not My Real Parents

Part 1 - Foster Care

My earliest memory of being back in diapers was way back when I was living with my second foster family. They were generally pretty cool people as I remember. I had an older foster brother called Scott and we had the most awesome, pure white Husky dog.

My foster family were rich… Very rich! I remember us having a swimming pool fitted in the back garden of our house that sat at the bottom of a quiet cul-de-sac. On the day that the builders had finished the construction of our new swimming pool I had been sat on my foster parents' bed, watching T.V. My foster dad came into the room, and from the chest of drawers on which the T.V sat, he opened the top drawer which was FULL of bundles of money. He picked out a few of the bundles and used it to pay the builders for the swimming pool.

My favourite day of the week was Wednesdays. This was because, after my bath time on Wednesday night, my foster mum would cuddle dry me with a towel and let me sit and watch The Simpsons on SkyTV in the front room; I loved The Simpsons!

One Wednesday, I was playing up; being a naughty boy because I wasn’t allowed to go to my friend's birthday party. I started throwing my books and Legos around my room. My foster mum burst into the room.

“Dylan, pack that in right now!” she said sternly.

“No!” I shouted, throwing another one of my Lego models at the wall, shattering it into dozens of pieces.

“Dylan!” she exclaimed. “If you don’t stop it then there will be trouble when your father comes home.”

“He’s not even my real dad,” I quickly retorted, “and,"—I paused for a short second—"a-and you’re not my real mum. I hate you, I hate this family!” I screamed, tears of anger and emotion swelling up in my eyes.

There was a look of shock and hurt on my foster mother’s face. She quickly turned round and left the room, closing the door swiftly but quietly behind her. I threw another book, my favourite book, ‘Funny Bones’, this time at my door. It struck the door with a loud wallop. I turned and threw myself on my bed and started crying.

 

Part 2 - Punishment

I woke a little while later. I stared at the green and purple bush outside of my window that was just above my bed and imagined the party I was missing, all my friends running around and having fun, probably playing pass the parcel, eating cake, jelly and ice cream, and singing Happy Birthday. My train of thought was interrupted and I was quickly brought back to reality as I heard the sound of my foster dad coming back home from work. My head snapped round, I sat bolt-upright, and I stared at my door when I heard the front door of the house close and the sound of conversing between him and my foster mum.

What seemed like an eternity went by as I awaited the inevitable… and then, it happened.

“Dylan?” It was my foster dad coming into my room. My heart began to race and the emotion and anger that I was feeling earlier seemed to return quickly. “Dylan, I hear you’ve been acting up for your mother. I want you to apologise,” he said, standing in the doorway.

“She’s not my real mum,” I muttered under my breath, frowning as I focused firmly on my feet poking off the side of my bed. Those words, although said quietly made me feel breathless.

“Excuse me, what did you say?” he said. I wasn’t sure if he had actually heard me or not, although he probably did.

“She’s… Not… My… Real… MUM!!!” I wailed, taking breaths in between each word to overcome my breathlessness. Tears began to roll down my cheeks.

“How dare you, Dylan,” he said sternly. “How dare you say such things. Your mother and I have taken you in and looked after you as our own. Don’t be so damned spiteful, Child.”

“I don’t care,” I spurted quickly as I started to sob. I continued to frown as tears streamed down my face while I stared at my feet, still poking off the side of my bed.

“Stop being so malicious, you ill-disposed little sod,” he snapped.

I said nothing. I just continued to sob and stare at my feet.

“Nothing to say, huh? Well, maybe you’re starting to understand now…” My foster father’s words started to become background noise. I was totally unfocused on what he was saying. I was only focused on the anger I was feeling… The anger, and my feet poking off the side of my bed.

“Dylan… Dylan!” I was now aware of him talking again. “Dylan, answer me.” I had no idea what he just asked. “And stop crying, you’re a big boy now and big boys don’t cry,” he chastised.

“Shut up.” I retaliated as I continued crying.

“Look, if you’re going to act like a baby, then you’ll get treated like a baby.”

I covered my ears, “Shut up. Shut up. Shut up,” I bawled.

He left the room, closing the door behind him. I slammed my face into my pillow and yowled loudly as I kicked my feet up and down on my mattress, having a full-on temper tantrum.

A few moments later he came back into the room. I lifted my face from my pillow and my yowling turned back to sobbing.

He had something in his hand.

He approached me.

My foster mum stood in the doorway.

My heart started to thump against the inside of my chest even harder than before.

He grabbed my leg.

I froze.

With one sharp, self-assured movement he flipped me onto my back.

He grabbed my trousers and pulled them down, exposing my light-blue Thomas The Tank briefs.

I struggled as it dawned on me what was about to happen.

With one firm hand on my chest, he held me down. With the other, he yanked my briefs off.

I started to protest, scream, and bawl as he grabbed both of my small ankles in his large hands and lifted them. He then placed what he carried in the room with him under my bum, which was now hoisted above my bed by my ankles. It was a nappy!

Although I was still crying, I knew that there was little I could do. He was too strong and I was too prone. I looked at my foster mum standing in the doorway, hoping for some kind of assistance. She just stared back, watching, bearing no emotion in her expression.

Moments later it was done. My mid-section was bound in a shameful white diaper that screamed degradation and humiliation.

He then jerked me up off the bed by my wrist, dragged me out of the room, and slung me into the bathroom, locking it from the outside.

“You will stay in there and think about what you have said, young man, and until you stop acting like a baby.”

I slumped my back against the wall and slowly slid down it in defeat until my diapered butt hit the flagstone floor with a pat.

 

Part 3 - The Bathroom

After the initial shock of what just happened cleared from my mind, I started to feel very tired. All that screaming, shouting and struggling had taken it out of me.

I stared at my feet again for a while.

Some time passed, I’m not sure how long, but it felt like quite a while. I stood up and pottered over to the door. I opened my mouth to say something, but I didn’t know what to say. As I looked down at the shame that covered my crotch I felt belittled, and the sudden urge to pee came over me. I looked over at the toilet next to me and back at my nappy. I went to pick at the Velcro-like tabs holding it around my waist but stopped. I hopped on one foot and shook my hand slightly in frustration.

“I need to go for a wee-wee,” I said.

No reply.

“I need to go for a wee,” I said again, this time louder.

Still no reply.

“Fine,” I said to myself. I looked down and let the pee flow into the nappy I was wearing. It felt warm and a little strange as some of it trickled down the inside of the diaper and to the bottom of my bum. I instantly regretted what I had done, as I felt even more humiliated than before and now was standing there in a soaked diaper.

“I need a change,” I shouted.

No reply.

I shouted again, “I need a change.” Still no reply. I sighed to myself and walked over to the bath mat on the floor of the cold flagstone, curled up and fell asleep.

I awoke to the sound of someone unlocking the door from the outside. I sat up, half asleep and rubbed my eyes as the door slowly opened. My older foster brother, Scott quietly slid into the room and closed the door behind him, almost silently. He put the top lid of the toilet down so he could sit.

“So, they diapered you, huh?” he asked while sitting down.

I nodded slowly.

“It’s ok, they’ve done it to me before. When I was younger, of course.”

I continued to look at him without saying a word.

“How do you feel?” he asked. “Do you feel little?”

I nodded again.

“Yeah, I’m not surprised.” He chuckled. “I mean, look at you, you’re wearing a nappy.” He chuckled again, but it was a friendly chuckle.

I liked Scott; I looked up to him, and although we didn’t spend much time in each other's company, he was always there to cheer me up and make me laugh when I needed it.

I stood up as the sides of my mouth turned up slightly into a half-smile.

“Look at you, you have rug fluff in your hair. Come here.”

I pattered over to him slowly and he batted the blue fluff out of my hair. I giggled slightly.

“Do you"— he hesitated —"do you have a wet diaper on?”

I nodded again and looked down at my diaper, the smile quickly dropping from my face.

He extended his hand and cupped my crotch, my wet, soggy crotch. I didn’t move as his hand rubbed up and down, up and down.

I stole a look at his face. His eyes were fixed on my nappy, they had widened slightly and he was biting his bottom lip. I quickly looked back down at his hand. He had started groping at my crotch feeling his way all around my diaper. The atmosphere in the room had changed quickly and I didn't dare say anything. Even if I did, I wouldn’t know what to say, so I kept quiet, very quiet.

He stood up.

He stood behind me.

He lifted my t-shirt off over my head.

He placed his hand around the base of my neck on my back.

He slowly, but firmly pushed me down so my face was on the toilet lid.

I closed my eyes.

I felt him rub my bum. He rubbed me all over. He used one hand to grope around to my crotch and his other hand to stroke my chest softly.

He started to rub my back for a while until he slipped the diaper over my bottom, exposing my small, rounded butt.

I kept my eyes closed tightly as I felt something warm and wet around the more intimate area on my bum; it was his tongue!

He licked me for a while, groping at my crotch and balls too.

I let out a whimper as I felt something slide inside me. Scott covered my mouth to stop the noise. He whispered in my ear, “Shhhh, It’s only my finger. I’m just warming you up.”

I felt it leave and re-enter me time after time. I tried not to make any noise, but sometimes I couldn’t help it.

“Ok, stand back up,” he said gently.

I did.

He pulled his trousers and underwear off in one movement. His 13-year-old penis was erect and stood straight out from his midsection. He had a small amount of dark black hair starting to grow at the base of his boyhood. His glistening wet glans poked out slightly from underneath his foreskin. He was about four and a half inches long and, although not thin, he wasn't too girthy.

“Open your mouth,” he said.

I did.

He slipped the end of his erect penis into my mouth as I closed my lips around it, and he started to slowly slide in and out of my mouth.

I looked up at him.

He looked down at me.

He placed his hand on the back of my head and stroked my hair slightly. “You have such lovely soft hair you know, Dylan.” He moaned slightly. “And such beautiful eyes.”

I continued to look up at him as he slid his teen cock in and out of my mouth.

He began thrusting quicker and quicker, moaning more and more. He then pulled his cock out of my mouth. It was wet and slippery from my saliva.

Suddenly he turned me around and bent me back over the toilet before lining his glistening wet peen up with my twitching hole.

I cried out in pain as he entered me. He covered my mouth again and said, “Shhhh,” in a somehow reassuring way. He held still for a while until my whimpers subsided. He then slowly slid the entire length of his hard boyhood inside of me. It hurt. It hurt a lot. But Scott was slow and gentle.

Scott let out a satisfied sigh as I felt the few wisps of hair at the base of his penis against my soft, pale buttocks. He held for a few seconds before slowly drawing back. My entire body shuddered at the sensation and I quickly felt my small, thin two-inch penis get very hard.

Once Scott was most of the way out, he slowly thrust his young teen boy meat back into me, making me gasp and squeak.

After a few more slow strokes, the pain was subsiding and gave way to waves of intense pleasure. I gasped and panted as the slow, rhythmic cycle of feeling incredibly full followed by our joint moans as Scott pulled back. Then the almost disappointing feeling I got from the lack of fullness in me. Finally, the thrust forward again, filling me up again and delighting me, once more completing the cycle.

Scott began to speed up and the sensations were overwhelming. All that mattered in that moment was the feeling of my brother's teen cock repeatedly violating my tight, 7-year-old ass.

Scott began to grunt in between his moans as he really started to work me over. In that moment, I was his; he dominated me; he owned me fully and I wouldn't have had it any other way.

Although I tried my hardest not to make too much noise, each thrust got deeper, harder, and faster, forcing me to let out squeaks, moans, and whimpers each time as my body writhed and convulsed in total bliss. However, all too soon, he was ready to breed me with his young teen seed.

The final few thrusts were hard, deep, and deliberate. His breathing deepened. With his hands he clutched at my sides and with one final thrust, I felt warmth fill my insides as he let out several satisfactory grunts. Each grunt came with more warmth inside me as he filled me up, marking me as his property.

Scott quickly pulled himself out of me, pulled his trousers up, placed his hand on my shoulder and eased me up so I was standing again. He kissed me on my forehead and quickly made for the door.

“Hey,” he said softly, looking back at me.

I looked up at him. I felt my eyes shimmer in the light.

“Don’t tell Mum or Dad, alright?”

I nodded slowly and he slid out of the room, locking the door behind him again.

I stood there with my diaper still down at my ankles, exposing my butt.

I felt a warmth start to slowly trickle out of my used little hole and down the inside of my leg until it reached the seat of my diaper, where it began to pool up. I stood for a minute, a blank expression painted on my face, until I pulled my diaper back up over my bum. I went and sat down on the floor, my back against the wall and stared at my feet.

Scott and I never spoke about what happened in the bathroom that day.

 

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Thanks for reading the story that schoolboy me wrote. Did you like it? Any thoughts or feedback? If so, please drop me an email at the address below.

If you haven't already, check out my other story, 'Care' to read more about Dylan and his time in foster care.
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/care/

 

Don't forget to check out the website @ https://LittleNinja.world

Feedback and suggestions are always welcome. Hit me up @ nifty_little_ninja@proton.me

Your praises, comments and suggestions mean a lot to me and really make me want to engage more in this whole writing thing. I reply to everyone who drops me a line.

You can do whatever you like with my story as long as you credit me. Also, if you would drop me and email to let me know, too then that would be highly appreciated.
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Check out these other authors and stories. They have been a huge influence to me and they are highly talented writers:
Counting - Tux
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/counting/

Geeks - Paul Schroder
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/geeks/

Inspecting A Cum Pewter (Short Story) - John Candu
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/inspecting-a-cum-pewter

Timmy and the Travellers - David Clarke
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/timmy-and-the-travelers/

Nexus - David Clarke
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/sf-fantasy/nexus/
.....actually, anything by David Clarke is pretty freakin' awesome.

The Boys of East Harbor: Michael - The Brat
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/the-boys-of-east-harbor-michael/

Gingerbread Boy - Andrew Thomas
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/gingerbread-boy/

Brotherly Games - Delgrado
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/brotherly-games/

Eighteen Months with Rhett - Earth Boy
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/eighteen-months-with-rhett/

Be True To Your Heart - DLDaddy
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/be-true-to-your-heart/

The Life Of Matt Summers - Flaming Matthew
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/life-of-matt-summers/

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Li'l Ninja x

 

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