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Frankie Foster What The Heart Wants	By : Wendell Urth Category: +1 through F > Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends Views: 3774 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends & all associated characters belong to their respective creators and owners, not me. I receive no compensation whatsoever for this story. I do not condone sex with children, sex or drugs.

Chapter List
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Chapter 2: The Prom
Eight years ago. The Prom. Double date, Frankie and Steve, Letty and… and Tom Watson? Tim Wilson? Yeah. Tim… or Tom. A drink in the car to make everyone happy. Another in the parking lot to mellow out. Idiot guys ditching their dates once inside to meet up & swap lies with their idiot friends and talk about sex. Spiked punch inside. Everyone laughing too hard. Gossip. Girl cruelty, who looked fat, ugliest dress, worst date. Dancing with Letty.
“Meiz Foster, can I have a word!?!”
“Ugh, that voice!” Frankie moaned under her breath. Mrs. Ramírez, “Part time party chaperone… Full time Bitch!” The only teacher to ever fail Frankie, mid-year. She had gotten her grade in Spanish up to a D by the end of the year… well D minus… but she passed! Frankie still hated her like no one else. “Oh, what does she want” Frankie complained to Letty. “She’s going to be your Senior Advisor next term. Better go see what the old cow wants.” Her friend said, then whispered “Moo” and laughed.
“Yes, Meezusss Ramírrrrez” Frankie called, going over to the older woman. She really wasn’t fat, Frankie knew. A woman in her 40’s, curvy. But to the 17-year-olds in Frankie’s school, you were either thin or you weren’t, young or you weren’t. Her voice was deep with a light Spanish lilt. She was actually from Spain, a small town on the coast… somewhere.
“Come with me, pleaz.” Frankie followed her out of the gym, rolling her eyes for all her friends to see.
She walked down the hallway, following the woman to her office. Their heels echoing in the empty hallway. Smell of whiskey? Office door unlocked, suddenly thrown against a wall. Struggling. Lips pressed against each other. Bodies pressing, arms, legs, clothes. Frankie found herself face down on a cheap throw rug, on her knees, her ass high in the air, invaded by fingers, lips and tongue, crying out. Moaning. She had never been eaten out before, certainly not by a woman more than twice her age! “So sweet, so fucking sweet.” And more. Moans? Screams? Hers? “Shush, chica! Quietly!” Pussy pressed to her face. “Yes!” Instinct took over. Flood of cum, not her own. Voice in her ear, “Fuck me you little whore, fuck me now!” “Fuck me now, now. Oh God. Oh God. Oh GOD!” Legs scissoring. “So that’s how its done?” she wondered. “Sweet Jesus.”
Later, the teacher’s bathroom. Off limits till now, fixing each other’s makeup, clothes...
“Grades. Anyone asks, we were talking about your grades, right?”
“Yes, Mrs. Ramírez… grades. Ah, Mrs. Ramírez? About my grade… for tonight I mean?
She smiled. “Oh, a C. maybe a B minus. I’m sure you’ll do better next time, chica.
Frankie smiled, “Maybe some extra credit work?”
Mrs. Ramírez, “I think that could be arranged.” Then, “Good girl… and next time call me Helena.”
“Helena… next time.” Frankie had whispered. (Remembering, “But I never saw you again.”)
The rest of the prom was a blur. Still images, like flash photos. Until…
Midnight. Frankie was getting a lift from someone. Last of the spiked punch. A crowd by the bleachers. She walked over. “OMG! Letty on her back, taking one for the team… or taking four from the team.” Frankie did try to break it up, for a moment. The crowd grew angry. Letty was angry… at her. She didn’t try again.
Didn’t even remember going home.

Saturday/Sunday. The many joys of her first hangover. Mr. Harriman’s bunny feet making a god-awful racket somehow, bunny paws stomping inside her head.
“Grandmother, I think I’m dying.”
“Grandmother, I think I’m having a stroke.”
“Grandmother, I think I think I have stomach cancer!”
“Grandmother, I think… why are you laughing at me?!?”
The old lady was howling. “No sympathy for the sick and dying around here!”
Somehow Frankie survived the weekend. Hoping for a call from her new friend Helena, which never came, but maybe they’d find another excuse to ‘discuss grades’ on Monday. On her way to school she thought, “Oh God, its going to be rough on Letty! God knows, it must be all over school by now!”
She entered school. Everyone was looking at her! Laughing, pointing… OMG! Did someone know? She never got to homeroom. Loudspeaker calling out her doom. “Report to the Principal’s Dungeon, immediately. Immediately. Immediately! Francis Foster”
Mrs. Ramírez was gone. Fired. Forever. Without a word. No forwarding address. Frankie was suspended through the rest of the year. Expelled. She’d have to find a new school next year. Shame! She brought shame to the school!
Frankie was in tears when Madame Foster was called to escort her home. There was an anger on that wrinkled old face that the teen had never seen before. Before she could apologize to her Grandmother, the old lady pushed her aside and proceeded to tear that asshole principal a new asshole. She drew herself up to her full 4ft 6in height and browbeat the 6ft man into the ground. Never paused for breath, never let him get a word in edgewise. Dereliction of duty… allowing a child under his care to be defiled! Lawsuits. Publicity.
He finally relented, somewhat. Frankie did drink on school property. No excuse that the entire class and their chaperones were drunk too. She was suspended for the rest of the week. She could live with that; Madame Foster could use more help with chores back at the house. The expulsion was on hold pending her behavior rest of the year. “That wouldn’t be a problem,” the Madame assured him, staring at Frankie who was vigorously nodding.
Madame Foster began to storm out of the office. Frankie hesitated, afraid to face the students, the teachers. The Madame understood at a glance. With a voice loud enough to be heard by everyone in the building, she said, “If anyone of them says a nasty word to you… now or ever, you have my permission before God to SPIT IN THEIR EYE. Understand? You are to SPIT IN THEIR EYE. And if there are any complaints, they will have to deal with me about it.”
No one doubted her. Everyone who had been loitering outside the door suddenly found an excuse to be on the other side of the building. Including staff who were supposed to be there.
Oh, it didn’t really save Frankie any grief when she did return to school. But it was good to hear.
They drove home in silence. When they arrived, the Imaginaries took one look at their faces and found reasons to be elsewhere. Except the Countess. She smirked and reminded the Madame that housing such an evil ungrateful child was a bad idea. Had been all along. The Imaginaries took little notice. They didn’t really understand any of the issues about sex anyway. They liked Frankie! And anyone the Countess hated was automatically OK with them.
Frankie closed the Madame’s door gently and the old women lit into the young girl with a tongue lashing that should have peeled strips of skin off her back… and paint off the wall! If the Principal had had a new asshole torn, Frankie now had a collection.
Frankie was quickly reduced to tears and sobs. The Madame continued. “Child, you must remember what I have told you. The people here ’bouts hate us… want us gone. They will close the House down in a flat second if we ever give them the excuse.” Taking her by the shoulder, shaking her on every word, Don’t-You-Give-Them-The-Excuse-To-Shut-Us-Down! You hear me?” Then gently she squeezed the distraught girl’s shoulder. “When she cried, she looks like she did the first night she came here,” the old woman thought.
“Oh Frances. I know how much it hurts. ‘The heart wants what the heart wants.’ Never be ashamed of that, girl. Never. If you can, find a way to make it happen. Even if it’s just the one time. You make it happen. But never, never let it get back to people who can hurt the House. Don’t embarrass the House! Remember. Never hurt the House!”
She sighed. “Now go find something to clean. I don’t want to see or hear you before dinner! Scoot, girl! Before I ask Mr. Harriman to find you some real chores needin’ doing!” She smiled, “Nasty ones!” Frankie scooted.
Frankie gently closed the door on the way out. The Madame needed to lie down. “So much like her mother.” The old woman thought. “Wish I had some photos of her I could show the girl…’ but there was nothing left, nothing but Frankie herself had survived the fire.
Of course, she really wasn’t her grandmother, though she was the only living relative at this point. “Great Aunt twice removed? Second cousins three times removed? Who could even figure it out at this point?” She remembered the wide-eyed girl of four when she first arrived. All scabbed knees and buzz cut red hair. “Morons at the orphanage shaved the child nearly bald! Feh!”
She didn’t talk much, kept staring at the Imaginaries like they would bite her. The Countess kept screaming that the child was evil and would bring a curse down on their heads.” The Madame replied “Good, on your head first, it’d be worth it!” The strange flat Imaginary flew back to her room in a rage.
Madame chuckled. First few nights she’s wake up and find the child in her bedroom just watching her… from a closet or on top of the dresser or under a table. Just watching her, fighting off exhaustion. “Took days to get to the bottom of that.” She had been told that the Madame was her Great Aunt twice removed and was making sure no one was coming to remove her again. Protecting her from the dark forces that filled her own imagination. The Madame hugged her and told her that she might as well call her Grandmother, so no one could ever remove her… and so they could both get some sleep!
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Frankie Foster What The Heart Wants