You came back? Whatever. I may as well start my story.
I told you, I was born with a curse. I can't fuck any guy I want or call me Dustine.
Anyways, it all starts out in high school. Not the type of high school you are thinking of, but the school where we have monsters! Wizards, vamps, werewolves, fairies and more! Yes, I know. I'm trying to look for my future hubby in high school. I may as well try to find him now, make him my bf then charm him until he wants to marry me then make it feel less like a betrothal....
If it doesn't work out, I'll become Dustine anyways.
For starters, what kid doesn't have those bullies in high school? Don't be so shocked. Yes, the illusion can have bullies. Some straight girls stay straight and see me directly and through me, but I'm still pretty without a stupid illusion.
We'll call the bully Shit Face. Yes, Shit Face sounds wonderful. Shit Face loo- You want to know Shit Face's real name? We'll call her Jennifer. Jenny for short. Also, note that she is a vampire!
She pretty much is and looks like shit, but people these days like "details". She has fiery red lock that trail to her tiny-winy-titties. Ahahahaha! Good one, Christine.
Back to the story and not me lingering off to my memories.
Where was I? Hmmmm. Oh yes, her tiny-winy-titties. She has gold, but brown eyes, almond shaped, and was slim and flat. She had no ass to make up for her tits, and her face could take the excuse of a toad! Ok, I'm being mean. She really is pretty naturally.
Her nose is a button nose, a healthy pink to make a cute smile. Her lips aren't full, but more on the thin side.
Jenny was the daughter of a swim suit company, the only reason people liked her because she literally threw money out of her purse. Sometimes she gave out hot bikinis to her girlfriends that were mighty pricey, but was definitely worth the price.
I was one of those people. The difference? The swimsuits I got were hers that were used up and shriveled. I won't talk about those days, I'm going to talk about a different day where I gain triumph.
It was a cloudy, September morning, the second year of high school. I sang a soft melody that lured the sweet animals to me. A trail of men and boys dreamily followed me getting slaps from their wives and girlfriends.
I ignored them and walked with a bird on my shoulder and a squirrel on my head. The squirrel chattered down to my hand as I pet it softly and put the squirrel back on my head.