Warm Porridge on New
Year's Eve
I woke up on New Year's Eve and looked at the
clock whose LED display read Since Daniel and Abigail's parents were both dead, I adopted the children and they became part of my family. I now had four children. Abigail used to sleep with Jessica, but after the adoption I gave each child his or her own bedroom. I always gave my children separate rooms because I myself had bad childhood memories sharing a bedroom with my brother. As I entered the little girl's room, I noticed that Abigail was wide awake like I was. She was standing naked in the middle of the room. Her back was facing me, so I saw her naked bottom. When she heard me enter, Abigail turned around and looked at me. She had in her hands a jar filled halfway with bodily fluids. I quickly locked the little girl's bedroom door from inside. I spoke. “Abby, how many times have I told you to always lock the door when you bring out your porridge? You might get in big trouble.” Abigail didn't reply. After adopting her, I was hoping she would slowly cease this strange habit of collecting bodily fluids, but to my disappointment she continued. I have been keeping this custom a secret from my wife because I fear she might freak out if she knew. I told Abigail to put the lid on the jar and she did as I commanded. My nostrils detected the smell of feces in the room. I now had a feeling I knew why the child was naked. I turned the little girl around till her back was facing me. I spread the child's bum cheeks, which revealed a moist smear of brown feces around her anal opening. “Can you help me put the poo-poo in the bottle?” she asked, taking the lid off the jar. Keeping her bum cheeks separated with the fingers on my left hand, I used two fingers on my right hand to scoop out feces from her bottom. I dropped the feces into the jar. Thankfully, Abigail had a bathroom attached to her bedroom like Jessica did, so after I scooped as much feces as possible from the little girl's bottom, I carried her into the bathroom to clean up the mess. ---- I was sitting on the couch reading a copy of The Age while Daniel was playing video games near me. Even though the game was loud, I was able to filter out the noise and focus on the newspaper. My wife Karen arrived with a bowl of french fries. After she put the bowl on the coffee table, Daniel paused his game and started eating. Daniel spoke while he ate. “I love french fries, Karen.” My wife smiled and tousled the little boy's brown hair. “You're so sweet, Daniel, but don't call me Karen. Call me 'Mom.'” I put down my newspaper and picked up a chip. “I like these, but I prefer wedges.” Daniel shook his head. “I don't like wedges. They're too thick. I like chips that are skinny like my dick.” Both Karen and I didn't breath for the next five seconds. “Daniel!” said Karen, scaling the little boy. “Don't use language like that!” When Karen left the lounge room, I decided to speak to Daniel in private. “Daniel, you can't use that word around her.” “Why not?” “Don't say 'dick,'” I said. “Many people don't like that word.” “What do I use when I want to talk about my dick?” he asked. “Use the word 'penis' instead.” ---- On the night of New Year's Eve, I sat on the couch and watched my four children as they all stared at the fireplace. Jessica, Tim, Abigail, and Daniel all seemed curious about the burning log, and I wanted to make sure they didn't burn themselves. I always got worried whenever children were near fire. Tim was spitting into the fire again. He often did this because he liked to see what would happen to his saliva when it made contact with flames. Nowadays he liked to mix the saliva with his snot. Before long, all four children were spitting into the fireplace. I kept a close eye, not wanting all the saliva to extinguish the fire. Abigail suddenly stood up and ran away for no apparent reason. Half a minute later she returned holding a jar filled with a brown-yellow soupy mixture. I knew exactly what it was. It was the mixture of feces, urine, semen, and saliva that she called “porridge.” Before I had time to intervene, she threw off the lid and quickly emptied the contents of the jar into the fire. I watched intently as the mixture started bubbling and sizzling heavily. A foul toilet smell suddenly reached my nostrils and in unison everyone in the room moaned loudly and covered their nose. All the children started laughing once they were able to breathe again. “That looked so cool!” said Tim. “Do you have any more porridge?” Before Abigail could reply, I interjected. "No!" I said. "No more." THE END
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