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First Times at Bayville High	By : DrunkenScotsman Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > General Views: 21210 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I'm in no way affiliated with Marvel, KidsWB, or Cartoon Network, nor do I own the X-Men multiverse in which the characters move. I'm not getting paid for this piece.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Chapter 12: The Whore’s Tale
- M/F, Angst, Lang, Exhib

So, like I said, my sordid descent into teenage prostitution started with Magneto and his retarded plan to reveal mutants to the world. Everyone here was outed as a mutant, thanks to the news footage of you guys fighting the robot-things. Yeah, Sentinels, whatever.

Believe it or not, I’m actually not pissed at you guys at all. You were fighting for your lives. I’m pissed at Magneto for outing us. I’m pissed at whoever in the government approved and funded the project to build the Sentinels in the first place. I’m pissed at my parents for deciding, in their infinite wisdom, to pull me out of here and bring me home to San Fran.

I guess they thought it’d be too dangerous here. I just don’t get how they didn’t think it would be worse at home, without some support from other mutants, especially my friends here. Maybe they didn’t think high-schoolers were smart enough to figure out I was a mutant when they enrolled me so soon after the big reveal about mutants on CNN. I dunno.

What I do know is that I was totally alone those first few weeks at Leadership Charter High School. None of my friends from middle school went there; all of them ended up in other high schools. There were some Asian kids, of course – it’s San Fran, after all – but by the time I started the school in January, everyone had already formed their cliques, like in Mean Girls, only smaller. Throw in academic probation for my shitty math grades, and the second half of freshman year was starting off just as fan-fucking-tastic as the first half left off.

Of course, the other reason I was so alone came from being the only “out” mutant at the school. Half the student body figured me out based on the timing of my arrival. The rest found out through the rumor mill. Since San Fran as a city prides itself on tolerance, I didn’t get a lot of open scorn, just curious stares or sidelong looks or a little extra space in the halls. Y’know, all the subtle little discriminations.

I did get a few anonymous notes in my locker from other mutants offering a little encouragement. Sometimes they made my day. Sometimes they pissed me off because the ones writing the notes were too chicken-shit to come out and stand with me. Then again, I can’t honestly say I wouldn’t have kept it on the down-low if I could have.

My math grades sure didn’t go anywhere, though. I could count on my dyscalculia to stick with me, no matter what. Real fucking comforting, lemme tell ya.

Never heard of it? It’s a learning disability, basically dyslexia for numbers, and it blows exactly as much as it sounds like it would. Worse, the supposed LD specialist at the school – the only one, thanks to lovely budget cuts, according to my folks – hadn’t heard of it either, so you can imagine how much help he was.

Life at home was no picnic, either. I resented my folks for yanking me away, for sticking me in that dumbass school, for putting so much pressure on me to get good grades. I was their only daughter, their little girl, and they wanted… they expected me to be perfect. My dad the cubicle-bound salary man and my mom the RN worked their asses off, and I was such a little shit with my angst at that time. They deserved a perfect little angel, but they got me, a shitty little mutant retard.

S-Sorry about that, guys. I guess I’m pissed at myself, too. Thanks for the tissue, Kitty.

Right, on with the story. As you might imagine, I was growing desperate as the end of the school-year approached. Desperate for companionship. Desperate for positive attention. Desperate to pull my math grade up, if only to a D. I didn’t much care, but I know it would get Mom and Dad off my case. That’s where Mark comes in.

Well, he cums in my twat, too, but that’s jumping the gun a bit.

Too crude? Sorry. It’s my story and I’ll tell it my way. Lewd jokes from a lewd woman and stuff.

Mark was a senior, about to graduate. He was the TA for our freshman math class to get bonus points from that teacher – Mr. Munnerlyn, I think – in his calculus class. Knowing Mark, he probably didn’t need them, but you know how those overachieving types are. Anywho, Mark graded our tests in that class and sometimes helped with in-class work. Obviously, he spent a lot of time helping me.

Before this sounds too much like some cheesy-ass teen movie, Mark was no hunky senior. He was a dweeb. He was tall and awkward and pimply. Most of the time, he smelled like Fritos. Glasses, though I admit those weren’t too dorky. I think I heard a rumor that he jacked off to Sailor Moon or something like that.

When I first caught him checking me out, I was beyond grossed out. Overhearing some of the gossip about him in the girls’ room, I found out he apparently had a thing for Asian girls. I felt kinda relieved that it wasn’t just me. Maybe even a little flattered. As the weeks passed, I even started to enjoy the attention.

April rolls around, and my math grade’s still in the toilet. Mark is the closest thing I have to a friend, and he’s about to graduate. Then it hits me: he’s the TA, and he kinda controls our grades because Mr. Munnerlyn makes him do all the actual grading. Mark has a crush on me, so maybe if I flirt with him, I could convince him to help me pass math.

I tried to keep it subtle. With some hints from Cosmo, I smiled more, made eye contact, wore scoop-neck or V-neck tees, that sort of thing – all just barely within the established dress code. My grades started climbing a bit, so I knew it was working.

Mark started quietly asking me questions, too. He asked me about being a mutant and what it meant. He asked me about my powers, and if I liked having them.

“My fireworks are okay,” I replied. “Nothing awesome, but at least I can touch people without killing them.” Sorry, Rogue.

“Hey, fireworks are better than nothing,” he assured me with his still-crackly voice. “I bet you’re a hit on the Fourth of July!”

I smiled, feeling like a person for once, for the first time in a long time. “Well, I really appreciate you saying that, and for,” I said, lowering my eyes, “helping me out. Maybe with your help, I can actually pass this class.”

“Maybe we should, um, meet after school,” he replied, swallowing nervously, “so I can, um, give you extra help.” He smiled.

“Great idea! I’ll have my folks call the principal to okay it for tomorrow,” I replied. My hand came within inches of his as I put my book away. “How’s that sound?”

“Sure,” he replied dreamily. I smiled as Phase 2 of my plan came together. I looked forward to seeing Mark’s reactions.

The parents, of course, were all too happy to arrange for extra tutoring for me, and the principal set aside a room for the purpose. I couldn’t believe this was actually gonna work. I savored the feeling of being in control for a change, the feeling of power and freedom.

I made sure to wear the right outfit, something comfortable yet tantalizing. The black leather pants were just tight enough to look good without garnering a dress code write-up. The short sleeved white button-up turned out too thin, so I put on a lemon-yellow spaghetti-strap underneath. Why the hell can’t they make women’s white shirts not see-through? It’s fucking ridiculous. I also ditched my bra and slipped into my favorite sneakers, a pair of yellow Chuck Taylors. What? They’re comfortable.

During class, I made – or tried to make, since I had no fucking clue what I was doing – bedroom eyes at Mark. I flirted. I teased. He was putty in my hands. And then I told him I had a “little surprise” for him later. Yeah, his eyes got big as saucers.

You shoulda seen his face when I showed up for tutoring. Just before, I dashed to the girls’ room and put the button-up into my backpack. My reflection in the mirror had shown my puffy nipples sticking up through the fabric of my tanktop. My plan was in motion.

“So, Mark, like your surprise?” I asked with a naughty smirk. He only nodded, pale-blue eyes fixed on my boobs. They weren’t much – still aren’t, barely a B-cup – but I never felt prouder of the little ladies. Saucily I added, “I just wanted to thank you for all your help.”

“You’ve, um, made really good, uh, progress, Jubilee,” stammered Mark. His voice cracked when I sat down, leaning forward to give him a peek down my shirt. His whole face turned as red as his hair.

I shrugged, knowing full well what that would make my boobs do. “I guess so,” I sighed dramatically, “but I don’t think it’ll be enough to pass the class.”

“It’s possible,” he admitted. “You’d have to, uh, score really well… on the final.”

I nibbled my lip. “You really think so? I wish there was something… more… I could do.” I fiddled with the upper hem of my tanktop. “I’d be really, really grateful,” I added, hinting at just how I’d show my gratitude. My plan – to offer to flash him in return for “helping me pass” – was picking up steam…

… only to run right off the tracks.

“Oh. So that’s what this is really about,” Mark responded flatly. “You… you don’t really… like me… at all, do you?” he asked, sounding betrayed like I’d just fucking murdered his family or some shit. “You’re just using me!”

I guess I’d mistaken his dorkiness for naiveté. I even felt a little guilty about it, now that he said it like that. “No, I do like you,” I answered, more or less truthfully. “You’re the closest thing to a friend I have around here.”

“Just a friend, though.”

“Y-Yeeeessss?” I smiled. You guys know the one. The “dear God, I’m fucked sideways” smile.

Mark just glared at me, wounded. “I can’t believe you led me on like that,” he huffed. “Well, you can find someone else to help you,” he grumbled, starting to pack up.

“No, Mark, wait!” I pleaded, grabbing his hand. Panic rose in my chest. “Please don’t go. You’re the only one who can help me.”

Our eyes met. I could see him struggling. Part of him felt too hurt still. Part of him still had the hots for me. Part of him wanted to ride to my rescue, my gallant hero. Those last two were the parts I needed to reach.

Honestly, I told him I was sorry. Then came the bullshit: “I just said that because… well, it’s awkward…” I took a deep breath, mostly to give myself a moment to think. “I, um, dreamed about you last night,” I finally managed, with a look that I hoped would suggest the contents of my fake dream.

“Really.” Mark obviously didn’t believe me. Time to lay it on thick. Thicker.

“Yeah, really. I don’t remember the details,” I replied. I didn’t want to make up a wet dream on the spot. Too bad that I had one about Bobby several months later. Would’ve been perfect.

“I bet you don’t,” Mark flatly answered, still disbelieving.

“When I woke up, though…” I let go his hand so I could fondle my tits. I closed my eyes and moaned for him. To my surprise, I felt a genuine jolt of pleasure.

Like you, Danielle, I’ve never had an orgasm. Masturbating never really worked for me; it always felt too much like… like trying to tickle myself. Very frustrating when I get wet and can’t do a damn thing about it.

I gave Mark a sheepish-sultry grin. “Well, you get the idea.” Beet-red, he nodded. I figured he was at that moment imagining me, naked on my bed, fingering myself furiously, moaning his name.

“J-Jubilee,” he began, a bit hazily, “even if I graded your final super-easy, I’m not totally sure you’d pass the class. Besides, I might get caught and expelled.”

I laughed nervously. “My grades are that bad, huh?”

Mark just nodded. I started to panic again. My plan was falling apart. I couldn’t flunk out and let my parents down. “Isn’t there anything you could do, Mark?”

He didn’t answer at first. I couldn’t tell if he was even trying to think of something, so I set my eyes to ‘puppy-dog’ and pleaded, “Please? For me?”

Finally, his resolve melted. “Mr. Munnerlyn gave me his login to input grades,” he admitted. I grinned and waved for him to go on, which he did: “I can go in and bump all your grades, all the ones you earned here since January anyway.”

“Will that be enough?” I asked, giddy as… well. You know. Shut the fuck up.

“Maybe. I can’t bump them too much, or it’ll be obvious that they were tampered with.” He looked all around, as if someone was about to jump out and yell “Gotcha” at any moment.

I leaned forward and let the spaghetti straps slide off my shoulders. “I’d really appreciate it,” I cooed. To emphasize what I said, I tugged my top down just a tad more, almost but not quite flashing him.

“Jubilee, I…” he began, eyes not meeting mine.

With a deep breath, I yanked my tanktop down to my navel. I wanted to keep him off-balance, I guess. Good thing he couldn’t see my face, ‘cuz it was lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Wow. Those are… really nice,” Mark managed. He was pretty much drooling. I grinned and bounced a little.

Suddenly, though, Mark tore his gaze away. “Jubilee… I can’t. I’m sorry.” He licked his lips. “I mean… I really appreciate… what you did there… but we’re talking expulsion, even jail time, if I get caught. It’s too risky.”

My heart sank and my mind reeled. How had my plan fucking failed? I was pretty sure Mark had never seen real, live tits before. He said he liked them, dammit!

Desperate now, I grasped for straws. What else could I do to convince him? What else could I offer this dweeb to get him to change my goddamn grade?

The answer came in a moment of clarity. I knew. I knew what would, well, do the trick. I had to go for broke.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I found my voice. “Mark, please,” I begged, “I’ll… I’ll do anything.”

That got his attention, alright. “Anything?”

I bit my lip. Moment of fucking truth. “Anything,” I confirmed.

“So… the rumors about you are true,” he observed, “that you… you, um, put out… a lot.” Yeah, somehow, despite my total and utter lack of friends, there was a rumor floating around that I was easy. I fucking hate teenage girls. Present company excepted.

What-the-fuck-ever. I decided to embrace it. I figured he’d be less nervous and awkward and dorky if he thought he wasn’t deflowering me. Balance beam popped my cherry when I took an awkward spill in, like, 6th grade, so he’d never be the wiser.

I gave Mark a wink. “Other girls are just jealous ‘cuz boys like mutant pussy better,” I told him. I tried for an air of smug superiority. My plan was back on track, just at a much higher price than I intended.

Slowly I stood up, swaying my hips. “How bout a little show now,” I asked, unsnapping and unzipping my pants, “and we arrange the, um, full experience after graduation? That way, if anyone finds out about… about our little deal, you’re home free, diploma in hand, off to… Berkeley, right?”

“Acceptance letter came last week,” he confirmed. “But we can’t wait. I turn eighteen next week, so… y’know, still against the law, just a different one.” He looked down. “Besides, you might go back on the deal, once final grades are in.”

Damned if he hadn’t read me like a book. Can’t blame a girl for trying, can you? I mean, I wasn’t gonna turn him in for statutory or anything, but I was gonna try to conveniently “forget” if it meant my V-card stayed intact. I tried one more tack to deflect him: “I could just… jerk you off… or give you head…” Neither of which I’d actually done, of course, but I’d try anything.

Mark shook his head. “No way,” he replied, voice cracking. “It’s not cool to tease me, offer me your… body… and then backtrack.”

“But when would we… do it?” I wondered. Preemptively I warned him, “Not next week. Girl issues.” My face reddened at the admission.

With a wince, he replied, “Right. TMI, Jubilee.” After a moment’s thought, he asked me, “How about r-right n-now?”

My jaw fell to the floor. “At school? Are you nuts?”

He swallowed. “We have the room set aside till four; it’s 3:15 now.” He looked down at the floor, face turning red again. “Besides, I probly won’t last till 3:18.”

I couldn’t help but giggle. Y’know, Mark really was kinda cute, in a dorky way. He had a nice jawline and deep brown eyes. Once his face cleared up and he got rid of the Frito smell, I bet he’d get all sorts of college-nerd-girl pussy.

Aloud, I truthfully assured him, “That’d still be the longest a guy has lasted inside me.”

He looked at me and smiled. “So… you’ll really… do it? With me?”

I couldn’t answer beyond a nod. My stomach tied itself into knots as I tugged my pants to my knees, baring my neon-pink but otherwise uninteresting panties. The leather garment was supposed to slide from my knees and pool around my ankles on their own, but I ended up having to pull them, one leg at a time.

Mark just stared right at my groin. I’d be lying if I told you that the intensity of his stare didn’t turn me on a bit. Heat rushed to my groin, and I felt my snatch start to moisten.

“Just gonna sit and stare?” I prodded him with a pout.

Mark stood, an intent look in his eyes. He put his arms around my waist and leaned forward, trying… trying to kiss me. I shied away, pushing against his chest. “I have bad breath,” I lied, “from lunch.” I really just didn’t want him to kiss me for some reason.

Now, though, kissing is the only thing I could do with a guy that would be a new experience for me. Well, that and anal. But anal is icky and sooooo never happening.

Anyway, Mark just gets this disappointed look on his face. To lighten the mood, I smile and glance at his crotch. “C’mon,” I tease, “why don’t you show me the goods.”

While waiting for him to drop his pants, I rub my nipples in small circles. They must be sensitive that day, ‘cuz I start feeling some real pleasure. I find myself legit excited about seeing a real cock, even if it’s geek-meister cock. I slip my hand into my panties to check how wet my cooch is. Slick as I’ve ever been, before or since. I pull down my panties to my ankles, my bald snatch exposed, and look to see what Mark’s packing.

At the time, I didn’t know what to make of it. I’d never seen one before, so I had nothing to compare against. Based on my later, ah, experiences, Mark was small. I wasn’t even so lucky as to get the nerd with the secretly-huge dong.

Mark looks at me shyly. “So… Jubilee… how…?”

I turn around and bend over one of the desks. With a smoldering look over my shoulder, I wiggle my ass, my legs spread. “Just make sure you get the right hole, huh?” I kid, winking.

I stare at the desk and wait. I’d fronted about being experienced, but now I don’t know what to expect. I’m scared. I’m horny, surprisingly. I want this over with. I hope it feels good.

I think I feel something. Is it inside? How will I know? He hasn’t started thrusting yet. I don’t think he has, anyway. At least he hasn’t popped his rocks yet. This desk is cold on my tits. I wish he’d hurry the fuck up.

“Oh God, Jubilee,” Mark whispers, “I’m in now.”

Great. I barely felt anything when it happened. “It’s about time,” I purr. “I was starting to get impatient.”

Mark starts thrusting slowly. I know he wants to take his time, savor the experience. I moan his name.

“So good,” he murmurs, “feels… so… good…”

“What’d I tell ya?” I moan. “Can’t beat mutant pussy.”

Now it’s showtime for me. I moan and squirm. I tell him he’s doing great, all while feeling a strange feeling. Detached, I guess, like I was someone else watching me getting nailed.

At least it doesn’t hurt. I’m wet enough for him to thrust as fast as he wants comfortably. I even start to feel some pleasure, which still surprises me, so I start rocking my hips a bit with him.

Mark groans my name. I feel something new, warm and liquidy inside me. Because I’d planned only to flash him, and was too intent on getting him to help me, I totally forgot about protection. I lucked out on not being knocked up, but I’d spend the next week worrying until my period.

“Did you cum?” Mark asked. I guess it was sweet that he cared. The rustle of his clothes told me he’d pulled out. “Was I… good?”

I quickly put myself back in order. Maybe too quickly, ‘cuz he just looked down at the floor all pitiful. “Right before you did,” I lied, “or didn’t you notice how I lost control of my hips there?” I winked. “Besides, it’s 3:18.”

Mark looked up at me and grinned. “I’m glad, Jubilee. It was… wow. Wow.”

“You’re welcome.” I licked my lips. “So, we… you’ll take care… of my grades?”

Mark nodded. “Yeah, tonight when I get home. I guess for now, we should actually do what we reserved this room for.”

After forty minutes of more math, I went home for the weekend. I felt… dirty for what I did, and guilty for manipulating Mark the way I did, so I spent over an hour showering, trying to get clean. At least I was finally gonna pass math, so things were looking up.

The optimism lasted all the way to Monday morning. During homeroom, the PA summoned me to the principal’s office. At first, I was confused. When I heard them also summon Mark, dread dropped into my stomach like a rock.

Mr. Lopez, the principal, sat me down until Mark arrived. I fidgeted. When my partner in crime arrived, he looked afraid, even petrified. He’d probably never been “in trouble” before. I tried to smile, but he wouldn’t even look at me. Some thanks for making him a man, huh?

“Do you know why you’re in here?” asks Mr. Lopez. I hate when authority figures pull that shit. You know what we did. Just accuse us and get it over with already.

We both shook our heads. Mr. Lopez sighed and continued, “We know you two reserved that room to study. We also know what else you did in there.” He pointed to an unmarked VHS tape on his desk. Yeah, a VHS tape, in 2005. Who the fuck uses those anymore?

“S-Security camera?” Mark whispered, eyes widening. My stomach roiled. I just knew he was about to squeal. He had no experience stonewalling like I did, though mine was mostly with my folks.

“With microphone,” added Mr. Lopez. “We heard your little scheme, Miss Lee.”

I shrugged. “Then why haven’t you expelled us yet?”

“They say confession is good for the soul,” answered Mr. Lopez.

“I’m not Catholic,” I retorted. I was digging myself deeper with the attitude, I guess, but I didn’t give a flying fuck. I was already toast, about to be expelled, which is already a worst-case scenario. What more could they do to me?

Mark, on the other hand, crumbled like a house of cards. “I’ll… I’ll cooperate. Just… please don’t expel me. I… I haven’t touched the grades; the time index will show when they were last altered.”

I glared at him. I let him fuck me, and he didn’t even follow through with his end of the deal? And now he was blubbering like a little bitch? What a loser.

Well, I guess you’re right, Jean. He did have a lot more at stake than I did, since he wanted to graduate and all. He still coulda been less of a pussy about it.

“Thank you, Mr. Petrovich. Miss Lee? Last chance.”

I stared at the window. “I just wanted to pass math. With a D. That too much to ask?”

“You didn’t need to… resort to that, Miss Lee. We have –“

“No one on staff,” I interjected, “who’s qualified to work with my… my special needs.” I stood to face him, but he was still a head taller than me.

“We have an LD specialist, Miss Lee.”

“One. For the whole goddamn school. And my need is ‘not one he’s familiar with.’ What kinda bullshit is that?” I fumed. My hands started tingling. Maybe my powers would flare up and explode the VHS tape. That would have been beneficial, and nothing of the sort was happening to me that day.

“I had my reservations about admitting you, Miss Lee,” Mr. Lopez spat, “given your… unique… circumstances. But after that letter from Professor Xavier, praising your character…”

I didn’t hear the rest. All the fight drained right out of me. I had no fucking clue he’d written me a recommendation letter, and now I’d shown the Prof in a bad light. I… I let him down.

I’d failed everyone, really – my parents, the Prof, myself. Everything just crashed down around me and on top of me all at once. I sank into the seat and broke down into tears.

“We’ll call your parents, Miss Lee,” said Mr. Lopez, softer but still stern, “and they can come get you.”

“They’re both at work!” I wailed. “They can’t leave. I’ll… I’ll just call a cab.” You’ll note Mark’s lack of offer to give me a ride or cover it for me or speak up at all. He was in bump-on-a-log mode.

“You do that, Miss Lee. This is a school for Leaders, not cheaters.” At least Mr. Lopez was good enough not to say “whores.”

The ride home took for-fucking-ever. Lots of time to cry my eyes dry. Lots of time to think.

My folks, I knew, would get a call from Mr. Lopez. I had no idea how much he’d tell them. Probably everything, just to cover his own ass. His message was on the answering machine when I got home, spelling out everything I’d done to “warrant expulsion”: misusing school property, engaging in sexual activity on school grounds, conspiring to tamper with school records, and failing to “live up to the school’s ethics of personal responsibility.” Whatever that last one means.

No, I have no idea what happened to Mark. Since he cooperated, and was near graduation, he probably just got a slap-on-the-wrist suspension and walked a few weeks later. He’s probably at Berkeley now, designing robots or something. Honestly, I don’t give a shit.

Alone, at home before 9am on a school day, I had nothing but time on my hands. I wallowed in self-loathing for a while. I… I browsed the web for… for ways to kill myself. All of them were too messy, or sounded painful, or unreliable.

I wrote a long letter to Mom and Dad, explaining in my own words why I did what I did. I just… I just wanted to be the daughter they wanted, the one they deserved. I told them I was sorry to let them down, to fail so miserably at everything, to… to leave them. They didn’t want my shameful existence to be anywhere near them anyway, right?

Thanks for the tissue again, Kitty.

So I packed a duffel bag with a few changes of clothes and some other necessities. I raided the change jar. I emptied the “rainy-day” box they thought was hidden in their closet. I found a credit card statement, got the account number, and bought a Greyhound ticket online, southbound to LA. Online, I found a decent little orphanage to become my new home.

That’s right. I ran away from home. Didn’t join the circus though. I figured it’d be easier on my folks if they… they didn’t have to put up with their stupid, retarded mutant whore anymore.

To keep them from finding me, I left my cell phone in my room. In LA, I visited a salon, got my hair chopped super-short, and sold it so it would end up as a wig. I started going by Gina, something that sounded enough like my name that I’d answer to it.

The orphanage ended up crappy and overcrowded, full of kids with no future and no chance of adoption, mostly teenagers or special kids, with a few crack babies thrown in. It was a sad, angry, poisonous place. I only stayed there about a month.

As the month wore on, I started frequenting The Oaks, the nearest mall, trying to find part-time work. No dice – I looked too young and didn’t have any ID. Still, the mall was a haven away from that orphanage. Soon I stopped going back.

The money I’d brought from home vanished, sacrificed on the altars of the food court. I got good at sneaking and hiding, just so I could sleep on the couches in the department stores rather than sleep outside, which is where I slept when I got caught still in the mall when the employees locked up. I stashed my duffel bag in various places so I wouldn’t look like anything other than your average teenaged window-shopper. I used the handicapped stalls’ sinks to “bathe,” usually just cleaning my face and my pits.

Sometimes, at night, after I was sure everyone was gone, I’d grab a few bucks in change out of the fountains. Not too much all at once, ‘cuz it’d be noticed and force someone to investigate. Usually those few bucks would go to the Laundromat the next day to wash my clothes.

Living like that totally sucked. I managed only a few weeks of that before I seriously reconsidered the orphanage, especially when I started to skip meals to save money. I also started to wonder what to do in the fall, when there’d be no teenagers at the mall during the daytime for most of the week and I’d stick out like a sore thumb. Of course, even juvie started to look good at that point.

One morning, it hit me. Whoring myself got me into this mess. Why couldn’t it make my life tolerable?

I started simply at first, just flirting with cute boys to get them to share food with me. I’d charm my way into rides with other mall-hoppers, for a change of scenery and to cut down the amount of time I spent in any one place. I thought the mall cops at The Oaks were starting to get suspicious of me. Besides, moving around would make it harder for anyone looking for me, specifically, to find me.

It wasn’t long before I was giving handjobs and blowjobs in the backseats of cars, for cash or a legit meal or a place to grab a decent shower. Once I had enough money, I bought a bottle of lube and a box of condoms so I could safely offer, um, the full experience. I kept the condoms and bottle in my purse and only offered my puss when I felt like it.

I didn’t worry too much about creeps trying to rape me, since I can shoot fireworks from my fingers. I didn’t have to use my powers with any of my, ah, johns, just the occasional weirdo at the Laundromat or a few mall cops who got too close. I did have a couple guys try to sneak the condom off, but they put it right back on after I threatened to blow their balls off.

Summer drew to a close. I made nice with the arcade manager at South Coast Plaza, another mall. As far as johns went, this dude was paydirt – twenties, with his own apartment. I offered to be his “live-in girlfriend” for a while, until one of us decided to move on, no strings attached. He drove me around sometimes, kept me fed, I had somewhere to sleep – basically, he was my “sugar daddy” for several months. He even bought me one of those pay-as-you-go phones so I could network and set “appointments" and have repeat clients, the last piece I needed to make my, um, business really viable.

That’s how I lived for the past year and a half, moving between a couple different sugar daddies and turning tricks on the side. It wasn’t glamorous at all, especially when I had to escape notice by crawling through the air vent before and after a quickie in the guys’ room, which happened more than once. I had my independence, but that was pretty much all I had – no friends, no family, no home, no dignity, no class. Just johns, day after day. I survived, but I cried myself to sleep at least once a week. Worst of all…

Kitty with the tissues again. I really appreciate it.

Worst of all, I don’t think my folks even tried to look for me. I didn’t see any “missing girl” reports on the news, or any posters in convenience stores. Nothing. I guess I gave them the slip better than I thought. Maybe they think I’m dead. That’s fine. I don’t care.

No. That’s not true. Deep down, I wanted them to look for me, to find me and tell me that they still loved me no matter what, that they wanted me to come home. I wanted to try to disappear, so they could look for me and find me anyway. But they didn’t.

You know who did finally find me? The Professor, about three months ago. He never told me how, exactly, but he did. He said he’d signed the papers to become my legal guardian. He told me…

He told me he wanted me back at the Institute, where I belonged. He wanted me to come home.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A/N: Greetings all! I hope everyone's holiday season has been joyous. I hope you like my gift to you, my readers. Triple the length of my usual chapters (and triple the research, since I had to figure out an actual San Fran school for Jubes to attend, with all the right criteria), but it's been about three times as long as usual since my last update. So it all works out.

Updates will still be sporadic for the near future. I'll try to sneak in an update before March, at least.
I'd also like to welcome a new "regular," Aysha. Thanks for your multiple reviews on previous chapters. I did, in fact, create a review reply thread. The link to it is in my AN for the first chapter.
I look forward to your feedback, all, whether rate, review, or discussion!
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First Times at Bayville High