Fosters Home for Imaginary Mates Pornography Story: Fantasies Of The Sightless Chapter 1

Dreams
of the Blind

Authors
Note: Okay, Ive never EVER done a Fosters fic before
and after reading just snippets of a few other stories, I really
dont know what to say. I never even thought of using such ideas in
this kind of show but its inspiring stuff. Special thanks to Dude13
and his story A Day in the life.

You were
right, it is wrong for someone to make up a romance between an 8 year
old and a 20 year old. And I think its thats exactly what I
want to do with this story, but not in the way that you think.

I dont
know how this is going to turn out, but Im trying my best and I
hope youll get out of it what Im feeling about it, right now.
Anyways, enjoy and feed back would be GREATLY
appreciated!

I woke
up one morning and saw a face that wasnt there…

I
woke up the next morning and saw a dream that didnt
exist…

I woke up on the last morningI couldnt
find my heart…and I wondered

should
I care?

The crisp
cold winds chill the innocent flesh of youth that so carelessly walks
across the tombstone colored path that leads to the future of blank
shells. A tear to fall, a drop of ice, a cold, cold reality sinking
in.

What
life can be offered the boy wondered, what dreams could exist,
what, what indeed?.

A
wandering soul drowns out the painful echoes of mans world of
steel and stone, a prison bound and bred for those lost in the
shadows that bind us all. A red shirt, white sleeves, tan pants,
black shoes, and an empty heart.

Is this
wrong? Is this wrong for me to think this way? the boy thought to
himself.

School,
money, bullies, homework, not a single torment of his Earthly alter
ego could dare even match the slightest ounce of indescribable pain
that ripped and rapes across young Macs confused soul.

I
wonder if my parents ever felt this way, is this is what love is?
What a sick joke Mac thought.

Over the
past few days, the sands of time have grown inside and out of the
very being of such a sweet boy. Ideas and feelings, questions and
puzzles, sins and dreams, the very making for a tortured soul that
would remain forever sealed in a box of man and animal. Mac has been
thinking about someone, someone that he knew he shouldnt, yet had
no clue as to why. The familiar sights of the wooden house shined in
Macs tear filled eyes.

Fosters
Mac said. The boy sighed How could he, how could he make me feel
this way, I thought he loved me.

The warmth
of the sun brought no cheer nor love to the face of the boy that had
brought it so many times to so many others. Sneakers crunched over
fall leaves, Mac approached the house with tears splashing across his
shoe laces as each step sliced deeper into his heart, like a knife
being twisted and turned. A shivering young hand knocks on the
entrance to this hollow castle.

Wilt
smiles as the door opens Oh, hey there Mac, right on cue.

Mac smiles
happily Hey Wilt, hows everything?.

Hours
later

The young
boy walks out of the house and turns to the windows and the faces of
all his imaginary friends.

Mac shouts
Bye guys, see you all tomorrow.

Happy feet
dance upon the sidewalk as springy steps resides happily in the soul
of the young, brown haired boy. A creaky squeal wretches from the
front door as someone from the inside pushed it open.

Hey
Mac, you forgot your back pack

Mac
stopped coldand so did the rest of the world.

Dead
silence never felt so warm, never has it been so willingly embraced
so deeply and lovingly. Macs eyes turn and try their best to
conceal what desires lay behind them, and what demons preyed to rip
upon his mind as the false, plastic smile of an innocent, replays its
pitiful puppet show one more time.

T-t-t-t-thanksFrankie
Mac said nervously.

The sweet
smile of heavenly charms read like poetry in motion. Crimson locks of
breathlessly beautiful red hair, they dance like wildfire and burn
the very aching, lonely depths of the youngest and oldest of hearts
in every life form imaginable. Creamy peach colored flesh, soft and
sweet enough to eat is admired behind the invisible hands that reach
out through ghostly strings to grab the brass ring, grab what is so
painfully being flaunted at him.

Frankie
smiled No problem kiddo, see you tomorrow. Oh hey by the way,
thanks a lot for cheering Bloo up today, it was really sweet of you.
He really needed it after getting over that bug he caught. Thanks
again, see ya.

Mac simply
nodded and waved in response, incoherent babbling replied to
Frankies kind gesture, no known language could be derived from it.
The boys head was brimming with angelic hums, heavenly songs and
sweet voices that melt the walls of Hell itself and bathe all
listeners in the pool of serenity. Macs cheeks blushed bright red,
and his tears shined bright blue.

SLAP!

Faggot
peasant Mac cursed to himself, rubbing his throbbing red cheek.

He
HATES you

Bloo
HATES you

And
sheand she

NO, NO,
NO GOD DAMMIT!

To be
continued