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Frankie The Pervert Pt 1	By : Wendell Urth Category: +1 through F > Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends Views: 2548 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Foster's Home For Imaginary friends and all associated or other characters belong to their respective creators and owners, not me. I receive no compensation whatsoever for this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Frankie in the Bath
- 1
Disclaimer: Foster's Home For Imaginary friends and all associated or other characters belong to their respective creators and owners, not me. I receive no compensation whatsoever for this story.
Frankie The Pervert Part 1:
Prologue:
Frankie moved through the room like a slow-motion tornado, talking a mile a minute. She examined her various possessions like she was seeing them for the first time. Evaluating... It was like she had inherited a stranger‘s furnished apartment and was deciding what to keep and what to trash. A pile of items grew steadily by the door – mostly clothes, but other things as well.
Mac, sitting on a chair in the center of the room, knew that some of these things had been important to her. A doll she had slept with as a child (and sometimes still did) …now on the heap. Discarded without a second thought.
She held up a pair of big white panties (granny panties) and began to laugh, almost hysterically. Shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe anything like this belonged to her. Mac laughed too, but it was an embarrassed laugh.
Frankie stalked over to him and before he could say a word, she pulled the panties over his head. Mac didn’t complain. Anything she wanted to do was all right with him.
“Nah,” she said, pulling them off and tossing them on the pile. Looking at his expression she said, “At least they were clean. I haven’t gotten to the dirty laundry yet,” and winked at him.
Frankie the tornado was dressed in white socks, a tiny pair of lime green panties and a torn tank top. It maybe covered the top half of her perky breasts. Maybe. If she stood still. She didn’t. Pretty much her standard outfit the last few days. Mr. Harriman had locked himself in his office. The Friends were waiting for Madame Foster to return from her skiing trip to see what her opinion was.
Mac laughed when she laughed and didn’t otherwise pay attention to a thing she was saying. He was enchanted, hypnotized by her swaying breasts and rose-tinted nipples which kept peeking out the bottom of the tank top at the slightest movement… and she moved a lot! Mac had always had a crush on Frankie, knowing that the differences in their ages made it impossible to become anything else, but not caring. Frankie was his best friend… best human friend, bestest best friend after Bloo. He didn’t have a lot of other friends outside of Goo (short for Goo Goo Gah Gah) and a couple of kids at school he was friendly with. His brother certainly wasn’t a friend or friendly in any way.
Frankie made a quick turn to the left, her breasts bobbled momentarily to the right then swayed gently to the left as her nipples bounced up and down, in and out of clear sight and seemed to weave small circles in the air before disappearing again under the fabric. Every time she moved they made a different pattern. Mac loved every permutation of tit and nipple, dancing dreamily before his eyes.
Frankie seemed to be totally unaware of the effect her nudity had on the boy… but she was very aware. Just as she was aware of the other pair of dark brown eyes watching her through the keyhole of her closed bedroom door.
Mac certainly noticed the damp stain forming on a certain pair of lime green panties moving through his field of vision. At one point she slipped her hand down the front of her panties and then examined a clearly moist fingertip. Then touched it to the tip of the boy’s nose.
Mac lost his mind.
He suddenly realized she had stopped moving and was standing in front of him. A look of anger on her face. She must have asked him something and he realized he had no clue what she had said. He began to stutter, he was doing that a lot around Frankie lately.
“You didn’t hear a word I said, did ya’?” Of course he didn’t, she knew. He was concentrating on “other things.”
She put her hands on her hips for a moment, then straddled him. She smiled, “Am I too heavy? I can get off you lap if you’re uncomfortable…” though she intended no such thing. She began to squirm, her cute little bottom pressing up against the growing bulge in his pants.
Mac was experiencing his first lap dance… without any music to get in the way.
Frankie leaned forward, pressing the thin fabric of her top against his face. “Now remember, I expect you to pay attention to me when I talk to you.” There was a muffled stutter as she pulled up the torn remains of her tank top and rubbed her titties on his face.
Gob struck. The expression on his face was gob struck. Look it up if you don’t know what it means. Actually, he was titty struck, nipple smacked.
Sensory overload.
A warm slimy something stained his undies.

Part 1: A Few Days Earlier
Miss Frances Foster lay back in the huge antique claw footed iron bathtub, nose deep under ten thousand bubbles and considered her life.
For an orphan with a troubled early background, she had done pretty well. The woman who had adopted her and told her to call her “Grandmother” (actually a very distant cousin or Aunt) had raised her to be a capable, independent “feisty” young woman.
Frankie worked hard to pay back her kindness. Sometimes she felt guilty that she wanted (needed) more from life. She had quit college after a year when Madame Foster fell ill and took over full time maintenance of the Home.
Today, another failed job interview for a position she felt she was entirely capable of handling…
It was going well until… “Prior work experience?”
“Well, you see I work at…”
A cold look from the interviewer. Taking care of Imaginary Friends was considered a frivolous occupation at best... somewhat infamous at worst. No one in the corporate world would consider how much effort it took to run an underfunded charity of this kind.
“References… I see… and this Madame Foster… would she be related to you… somehow?”
Nope, no luck.
The tub Frankie currently luxuriated in was an antique holdover from another era. It was huge. Over 8 feet long. How it ended up here in this tiny, tiny alcove just below the attic was a mystery from the last century. At some point in the Home’s distant past a separate water heater had been installed just for its use. Madame Foster & Mr. Harriman would have freaked out if they knew how much in excess fuel expense Frankie’s frequent trips to the top floor was actually costing.
Since Frankie kept the books for Foster’s Home, the Madame never found out. Frankie did not feel guilty over the extra expense. Not with all the unpaid hours she put in. Frankie wouldn’t be human if she didn’t feel some resentment about her life at Foster’s Home. But it was buried deeply.
Buried very deeply.
Frankie lifted one leg, wiggled her foot and sat higher up in the tub.
The tips of her nipples crested the surface, covered with a Santa’s beard of white foam bubbles. She gathered them in with both hands until they covered her breasts up to her chin.
She sighed. Slowly slipped under the warm water and blew a stream of air out of her nose.
Suddenly there was a pounding on the door.
Insistent.
Incessant.
Demanding.
Furry.
“Miss Frances, Miss Frances, you are needed immediately!”
Frankie told her boss “To wait a few minutes till she was done.” She wanted to tell him “To take a flying leap out the nearest window,” but that wouldn’t have done much good. She pouted, this was her down time. She was entitled to her bath. She wasn’t supposed to be on 24-hour call… not today, anyway.
The six-foot rabbit reared back and kicked the door open. The lock broke. Frankie squeaked in shock, swallowing bathwater and bubbles!
“Lollygagging, I knew it! Really, you lazy, lazy girl. I’m going to report this dereliction of duty to the Madame.”
Frankie began to indignantly splutter as she stood up in the tub. Water and suds splashed everywhere. She spit a mouthful of bathwater bubbles at the indignant rabbit, missed and was horrified to see that she had spit on Mac who was standing behind him, ogling her.
She looked down at her sudsy bare body and “Eeeked!”
She actually said “Eeek.”
She wrapped her goosepimply arms over her breasts, then tried to cover the wet triangle of her scarlet pubes with her other hand, looked at Mac in horror (She “Eeeked” again) and tried to duck back down, but slipped in the tub and hit the back of her head against the heavy iron edge.
She might have said “Eeek” again, it was unclear as air bubbles and blood began to stain the bathwater pink. She was unconscious under the water.
Moments? Minutes later? She groggily looked up, hands were supporting her under the arms while an argument ensued between the indignant rabbit and the young boy.
She tasted blood and soap. She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs.
Mac’s wet soapy hands under her armpits actually “felt pretty good,” she thought obscurely… and tried to figure out what had happened. Something in her head clicked. Everything seemed to suddenly turn gray and blurry. She might have lost consciousness again, but only for a moment.
Her eyes snapped open. Everything came into sharp focus. Things were suddenly very clear! It was like her brain had rebooted… and the basic programming had changed.
“I’m OK Mac, you can stop feeling me up now,” she chuckled. “Squeeze me later?” She’d think about that she promised herself.
Mac, who had been screaming at Mr. Harriman to call 9-1-1. Stumbled back in shock, he thought Frankie might be dead.
Balancing by putting one hand on the top of Mac’s head, she stood up in the tub and stepped out. This time splashing the rabbit and staining his yellow plaid waistcoat. He backed away for a moment then his eyes went wide in shock as she hauled off and punched him in the nose.
She immediately shook her fist in pain, “Owie” she said. She turned and winked at the boy.
Mac had fallen backwards in shock on his ass. The floor was covered in sudsy bathwater. He didn’t notice. “Doesn’t she know she’s naked?!?” the boy wondered. He tried to speak but words wouldn’t form.
A crowd of Imaginary Friends had gathered. This was too good to miss!
She advanced on the rabbit, who was taller than her and twice her weight. He began to lecture her about her “proclivity for unprovoked violence” and then saw the look in her eyes and shuddered to a stop.
She continued to advance until she was up against him. She shoved him hard. Then again. And a third time. He began to slide across the damp floor until he was in the doorway and she elbowed him in the belly. He “Oomphed.”
The crowd of Friends were also forced back.
“When I am in the bath, you will respect my PRIVACY!” She shouted the last word and then in a low growl, “Understood?”
This was a Frankie they had never seen before! Oh, they saw her angry a lot, but never so determined… and naked!
The nudity alone frightened most of the Friends. They were created by children and were generally non-sexualized. Some friends did understand about sex (there were a lot of wolf whistles which faded away when she looked directly at the whistlers). Suddenly everyone found a reason to be elsewhere.
Mr. Harriman scrambled back to his bunny feet. He pulled down his vest and attempted to groom his soaking fur. She had never hit him before and although he was uninjured, he needed a moment to get his dignity back.
“Miss Frances, in spite of your unwarranted attack…” A wet towel hit him in the face.
“Now see here young…” A bar of soap knocked his top hat off.
He retreated to the grand stairway and repeated his dire threats against the human girl. “Madame Foster shall hear…”
The kick delivered to his bunny ass by the naked wet human foot drove him over the top of the banister and down, down, down four flights of stairs… sputtering threats and curses all the way to the main hallway of the mansion.
Frankie turned back to the small bathroom. Mac stood in his dripping pants and looked aghast.
“Towel?”
He stood, stricken to stone.
She clicked her fingers a couple of times. “Earth to Mac… Come in Mac.”
The spell broke, he looked around and found a towel that was mostly dry and handed it to her, careful not to touch even her hand.
She winked at him, “Thank you!” Then leaned over and kissed him on the lips. “And thank you for not letting me drown.” Then went about toweling herself as dry as she could. She paid special attention to her titties, leering at the boy and offering him the now damp towel.
“If you’re not going to help, are you done looking?” she asked turning her full attention on him while running the now damp towel between her legs, across her pussy. “Miss anything? Ya’ get a good look at my ass? My belly button? Arm pits?” The slowly turned around, shaking her ass in his face, making sure the boy got a good long look. She reached back and spread one of her cheeks making sure he got a really good long look at something very pink, very wet and absolutely luscious. Mac began to mutter in shock, “P-P-Pink… Pink… Its soooo pink.”
Mac got the hint and fled. He was followed out the door by the sound of her laughter.
There was blood on the towel and a large lump on the back of her head. She probed gently, the bleeding had mostly stopped. She had a mild headache, but that was all.
She replayed the entire incident in her mind. “My God, Mac didn’t know if he should shit or go blind!” she laughed. For a moment she wondered if she should be upset with herself. Punching the rabbit and seeing the expression on Mac’s face, feeling his hands under her armpits as he tried to lift her from the tub… well it was the most fun she could remember! She only regretted not being able to see Mac’s face when she spread her cunt for him.
She sat on the edge of the toilet lid and continued to dry herself. Other than almost dying, she was actually feeling... pretty good. “Maybe I knocked some sense into my head. That ancient bitch always said I didn’t have enough to fill a gnat’s navel…”
Frankie, still totally naked and now mostly dry did not go back to work. She offered no explanation to the rabbit (who was still cowering in his office). She walked down the long, once elegant staircase to the second floor where her small room was.
A thought occurred. “This is a mansion”. Old as it was (and crowded!), couldn’t she do better than this tiny room? After all, this was really her house… or it would be once the old lady was gone. And “Grandma wouldn’t be around forever.” This could be a pretty cool place for her. Oh, she’d need to get some money to fix it up and of course, get rid of some of the freeloading pests that were always demanding her attention. Some of them… most of them…
“Funny, never realized that before… or did I?”
Frankie honestly couldn’t remember how she felt before hitting her head. Her memory was otherwise OK. Her motivations though, were a mystery. The things she did… it was like someone else’s life.
She heard a couple of voices whispering outside her door. Mac and Goo. “The kids.”
“Do I like kids?” She didn’t know.
“Mac…” She thought about the little boy who was somehow her best friend. Images came to mind. Playing tag.
Endless games of hide & seek.
Sliding down the huge banister on the main stairs.
Mac naked in her arms after a sugar rush.
Mac & Bloo fighting.
Mac soaking wet, running through the main hall totally naked, slipping & sliding out her grasp.
Mac naked. The adorable way his dick waggled when he ran.
The smoothness of his tight little ball sack. “Tasty,” she muttered to herself.
“How many times have I seen him naked?” Instantly she knew, “Eight times,” including that one time she had ‘accidently’ walked in on him while he was changing into his bathing suit. She was sure it had been an accident, but couldn’t swear to it now. An accident waiting to happen, maybe?
“I always looked away… or pretended to.” Then, “Why do that?”
“I even had him naked in my arms, wrapping him up in a towel while he crashed from his sugar fit.”
“He was high! I could have done anything… but all I did was pretend not to look… or touch. I could have…” Her mind was racing now.
“I always looked,” she knew, “and pretended not to…”
“And why does he make me chase him when he’s naked? Little devil!”
Frankie didn’t understand her memories. It was like watching a film where people were doing things while speaking Chinese, with subtitles in Russian. She knew what they did, but had no idea why they did those things.
“I don’t understand myself… or I didn’t before now.”
And then there was Goo. That pest! The skinny little girl with the impossibly long arms and legs. Talking a mile-a-minute. Causing nothing but trouble…
Frankie knew the girls had a crush on Mac. Mac didn’t know it. Goo was his friend, they played together, but Frankie had seen the way Goo looked at the boy when his attention was elsewhere. “She’s got it bad for him and he has no idea!” It was actually pretty funny, Frankie mused.
“Goo wants him to fuck her and all he wants is to fuck me.” She started to laugh, then stifled herself so not to scare them away, hiding on the other side of her door.
Images started to flicker through Frankie’s imagination.
Mac’s naked back, his sturdy fireplug body. His cute little ass humping up and down, up and down, pistoning as thin brown arms and legs wrapped themselves around his pale body. Hugging him tighter as his ass pounded her from above. Those long brown legs squeezing his cute ass…!
Frankie drew her knees up to her chest as she began to frig herself desperately, driving two wet fingers into her eager moist slit. It was all the sweeter because the objects of her desire were both outside her room at that moment.
They were both there, on the other side of door that wasn’t even locked.
She needed to see them fuck each other. She needed to make them fuck each other.
Frankie wondered if she had ever thought these thoughts before.
She didn’t know why she thought them now, but corruption of the innocent was the most natural thing in the world. “Isn’t it?”
She knew something else. Something she was sure that hadn’t occurred to her ever before. “Goo has a crush on me too!” It was so obvious. “The way she follows me around.” It probably started with her obsession with Imaginary Friends and then transferred to the young woman who spent all her time caring for the ‘little monsters’.
“Do I like kids?” she asked herself for the second time.
Innocent, sweet kids. “Yeah, innocent… for now.”
It wouldn’t take much to change all that.
“Perfect little cum sluts.”
“My perfect little cum dumpsters.”
She would have to proceed carefully. Slowly so as not to scare them away or let their parents know. That was OK, it would make it all the sweeter to turn them slowly.
But first there was the old lady… and money. She was going to need a lot of money.
Frankie thought about Mac and Goo and the preteen’s ability to craft Imaginary Friends to order. A plan came together in her sick, twisted, lovely mind. In a moment she began to spew, a flood of cum burst forth. “Positive I’ve never squirted before!”
She imagined her two little minions fighting at her feet, the winner locking lips over her gushing cunt. Loser licking the floor for her spillage.
All it took was a knock on the back of her head. Her only regret was that it had taken so long to find herself.

Coming Soon: Frankie The Pervert Part 2: Frankie & Goo
- 1
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Frankie The Pervert Pt 1