Hey, everyone. This is my first Fosters' fic. I almost wasn't going to post it, since it seems a bit derivative of my other story Rhondagenesis (which has NOT been forgotten, BTW, I hope to have Book II, Chap. 7 up soon, but a friend of mine convinced me. I also have very little clue where this story is going... if anyone has idea, feel free to suggest them.

Fosters' Home For Imaginary Friends was created by Craig McCracken as is owned by Time-Warner, I'm just messing around in their sandbox.


"...HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!"

"Awww... guys, you shouldn't have." Francis Louise "Frankie" Foster blew out the 23 candles on her cake. She'd almost forgotten today was the day, and was expecting the usual drudgery. So, the party had been a pleasant surprise.

"Well, the credit really goes to Mac here." Wilt, a tall, gangly, and almost supernaturally-polite creature, placed his one hand on the 8-year-old's shoulders. "He found out when your birthday was when the two of you were re-filing all those records that somehow wound up crumpled up and lying around the lobby."

The boy smiled. "It was nothing, really. You deserve it for everything that you put up with."

The lovely titian-haired young woman blushed. "I... I really don't know what to say."

Frankie's grandmother, Agatha, as lively today as she'd been in her youth, supplied the answer. "Say... LET'S PARTY!"

Several exhausting hours of dancing and party games later, it came time to open her gifts.

Mr. Herriman, the lagomorphic majordomo of the house, gave her a day-planner ("to prevent any further lollygaggery," he'd said; Frankie already had a 512-MB PDA but was too polite to point it out). Wilt bore an array of scented bath salts; Eduardo, the hulking-yet-lovable monster, a homemade beaded seat cushion; Coco, an odd, manic creature that seemed to be the illegitimate offspring of a duck, a palm tree, and a 747, had laid an egg that contained the massage chair she'd been coveting. Mac contributed a pint of homemade ice-cream containing Madame Fosters' own cookie dough.

Finally, Madame Foster handed over a tiny box. "Here... this is for keeping me young all these years."

She opened it.

"Grandma... these are the keys to your car."

"No, dear... they're the keys to your car."

"What? No... no, I can't accept this. it's very generous, but—"

"Generous nothin'", the elderly woman groused. "They revoked my license! You run over ONE priest, and all of a sudden they're on you like—never mind. You enjoy it."

Frankie sighed happily. "You guys... thanks."

"Wait!"

The new comment came from somewhere in the vicinity of her knees. She looked down; Bloo, Mac's imaginary friend, who resembled nothing as much as a bright blue gumdrop with eyes, was holding up a small, crudely wrapped package. "You haven't opened my gift yet."

Frankie eyed the package suspiciously. There was no telling what it was... Bloo was every bit as mischievous as Mac was well-behaved. "This isn't some kind of trick, is it?"

Bloo put on his most innocent expression. "Of COURSE not! I would never do something like THAT..."

Wincing, Frankie braced herself as she opened the package. Inside...

"Bloo... this is BEAUTIFUL!" She drew out a necklace sporting a pendant set with a large, glittering, flawless blue gem. "How on Earth did you afford something like this?"

"Oh, I have my ways..."


Six hours ago

"Criminy... at this rate, I'll NEVER find a present for Frankie!" Bloo slid around the corner, looking for someplace to shop... someplace he could afford.

"Okay, maybe I shouldnt've spent nearly all the money on candy. But how often do jellybeans go on sale like that?"

Oh well... somewhere in this city, there HAD to be a place that sold impossibly cheap jewelry...

"Get your impossibly cheap jewelry!"

"Wow. Now that's service."

Bloo slid toward the owner of the voice, a seedy looking man running a kiosk full of jewelry. A banner, reading "GREGOR'S SUSPICIOUSLY CHEAP JEWELRY", was spread across the top.

"How may I help you, strange blue jello man?" the owner asked in an un-recognizable European accent.

"Yeah... I'm in the market for something in my price range, which comes to about fifty cents."

"Ah, yes... fifty cents. That is coincidentally the price for anything I have."

"Wow, that's really convenient! Bloo scanned the table, his eyes alighting on a glittering blue pendant. "How about that one?"

"Ah, you desire the Cursed Pendant of Transformation?"

"This thing's cursed?"

"Of course not. It absolutely, positively will not permanently transform whoever wears it overnight into a strange and powerful creature. Why would you even suggest such a thing?"

"Fine," Bloo said. "You don't need to give me the hard sell, just fork it over!"

The man accepted his money and handed over the pendant. "Thank you very much, it was nice knowing you!"


"The details are not important. Try it on!"

She did. "Nice."

"And it's blue. So whenever you look at it, you can think of me!"

"...well, it's still pretty."

She wore it all night, even to bed. It was if she couldn't part with it.


Morning...

Frankie was woken by a harsh noise from her nighttable clock-radio.

"Great... this is so NOT what I need."

Slowly, she slid out of bed, rubbing her eyes. She stretched, and made her way to the bathroom.

She lathered up her face and washed it off, examining her face in the mirror.

Something was off...

It couldn't be her fur... or her horns... or her eyes, all three seemed okay...

She spat out the mouthful of mouthwash she had in her mouth in surprise.

She began the examination, taking in every detail.

Blue fur, accented by black tiger-stripes, covered nearly every inch of her body, except for her face, hands, throat, and belly. There, her fur was white. Her hands had four fingers each, with retractable claws, her feet were now cloven hooves. Her hair had become a long, bubble-gum-pink mane. She had a large pair of feathered wings, pink to match her hair. Three tails, long, flexible, and each tipped with a silky pink tuft, grew from her rear. Her chest now sported three, count 'em, three breasts, and her belly now had a kangaroo-like pouch. Her face was fox-like, with large pointed furry ears, a short muzzle with fangs, a shiny black nose, whiskers, and three green eyes with slit pupils. A pair of graceful, curvy horns adorned her head.

She stared for a moment, entranced by the impossible creature staring back at her.

Then she screamed.


"My word! It appears play most foul is occurring in this very house!" Herriman hopped towards the source of the scream. "To arms, fellow figments!"

A group of imaginary friends joined the rabbit, including Wilt, Igor (a large green troll) and the huge blocky creature Red.

"Bad people hurt someone?" questioned the latter.

"It would appear so," Herriman said. "From the sound of that scream, it seems someone succumbed to a most gruesome fate! Disaster may be averted if we-"

A second scream issued. "It's coming from Frankie's room!" shouted the gangliest of the group.

They all barged in, expecting to find a gruesome display.

Instead, they found one of the strangest, most beautiful Imaginary Friends ever seen. She resembled a cross between a tigress, a fox, and a gazelle, with wings, and possessing three each of eyes, tails, and breasts. And her eyes were currently locked on her reflection, her mouth wide open and preparing for another scream.

Always the proper one, Herriman cleared his throat. "Er, ma'am, it appears there has been some confusion. We were under the impression that you had been the victim of some misfortune. Nevertheless, I must ask that you cease this disruption immediately and vacate the premises, as this is a private residen-"

The creature seemed to notice them for the first time. "No! Get away from me!" she screamed, pulling the covers off the bed and throwing them over herself.

There was something about the voice...

"...Frankie?" asked Wilt.

She poked her changed head out. "Not anymore..." and dissolved into sobs.


It was shaping up to be a good day for Mac... a teachers' conference had cut the day short, leading to a 1PM dismissal for the school... which meant more time to spend at his favorite place in the world.

He arrived at the enormous gothic mansion fifteen minutes later. Oddly, it wasn't Frankie who answered the door, but Mr. Herriman. Oddly, and disappointingly... Mac was still nursing a crush on the redheaded caretaker; these days, he came to see Frankie almost as much as he did to see Bloo.

"Greetings, Master Mac," the rabbit majordomo said. "I see you're rather early today."

"Hi, Mr. Herriman, I-"

A blue form tackled him, from seemingly out of nowhere. "Mac! Buddy! You're early!"

Mac rubbed his sore rear... Bloo clearly loved him, but was definitely way too enthusiastic... either that or he'd been reading old "Calvin and Hobbes" strips.

"Hi, Bloo... lemme guess, you've been working out?"

"No, but I have been eating right, watching the carbs and saturated fats... you only have one you, y'know. I'm on a strict frosting diet."

"Bloo, frosting is FULL of carbs and saturated fats."

"I know," answered the figment with the world-weary air of someone explaining things to a very stupid person. "I said I was WATCHING my carbs and saturated fats. Then I eat them."

Mac groaned. "So, where's Frankie, Mr. Herriman?"

"Regrettably, Miss Francis will not be performing her duties today, as she is, er, somewhat under-the weather."

"Oh... can I go say hi to her?"

"Er... that will, ah, not be necessary, Master Mac," the bunny stammered. "She's, er, that is, she requires her rest, and should not be disturbed..."

"I won't be long, I just want to say hi!" Mac took off, sprinting down the hallway.

"MASTER MAC!" Mr. Herriman called as he bounded after him, "I must request that you NOT run in the hallways! Safety is as safety does! We are NOT insured, Master Mac!"

Mac continued to lead the rabbit on a chase through the labyrinthine hallways and stairwells of the mansion, until the exhausted lagomorph finally gave up, unable to hop any further.

Finally, Mac arrived at Frankie's apartment. Remembering that Frankie was supposed to be resting, he knocked softly on the door.

"Frankie?" he asked, listening for an answer.

"Mac?" answered a soft voice inside.

"Yes! It's Mac!" he answered. "Can I come in?"

"Please... don't... I don't want anyone to see me right now..." She sounded as though she'd been crying. Gosh... it must be something really bad, thought the child. Measles, or smallpox, or something. She must be covered with icky sores...

"It's okay, Frankie... I don't care what you look like. I just wanna see my friend, okay?"

There was a pause, and the sound of her blankets rustling. "Okay," she answered. "Come in."

Mac opened the door, peering into the room. Frankie was nowhere to be seen... however, a large lump under the covers revealed her presence.

"That bad, huh..."

"I can never leave my room again," answered the lump. "I'm hideous."

"Gee, Frankie... don't you think you're exaggerating?"

"No, Mac... I'm not."

Mac began to walk around the bed. "Sure, maybe it's bad now. But eventually it'll go away and..." He paused. Something was not right...

Then he saw it, sticking out of the covers. It was long, blue, and fuzzy, and had some kind of pink tassel at the end. His curiosity overcame him, and he reached out to touch the strange object.

"Eek!" screamed the lump. The protrusion was quickly retracted, but Mac realized something in the brief instant that he touched it; the thing was alive, and it was a part of Frankie.

"Frankie... this isn't just a cold, is it."

"No," she admitted. "I've... there's been changes, and... Mac... I'm not human anymore. I'm a... I don't even know WHAT I am... all I know is that it's not anything that's ever existed."

"Can I see?"

"No! I'm too ugly!"

Mac chuckled. "Frankie, have you seen some of the creatures in this house? There's no WAY you could be as ugly as Monsieur Revolto or Ugly Doris or Barfy McThrow-Up."

"You'll freak..."

"Frankie... I've looked at DUCHESS without retching. Are you telling me you're worse than that?"

A pause...

"All right."

Slowly, a head worked its way out of the fabric cocoon. The azure-furred, triple-eyed, rose-haired woman braced for the scream of terror.

Instead... she got laughter.

"THAT'S what worried you?" Mac gasped out in between giggle fits. "THAT'S why you're hiding?"

"Stop laughing! This is serious! Look at me!"

Mac managed to stifle his giggles. "Frankie... I think I can safely say that you're NOT ugly."

"But... look! I have horns!"

"So? Eduardo has horns, and he couldn't scare a paranoid chicken."

"I have three eyes!"

"So do half the friends in this house. Face it, Frankie... you'll just have to accept that you're not a monster. Now... c'mon out from under there."

"I, uh, I can't." said Frankie. "I'm naked. But... I guess you can't really see anything anyway..."

After a moment, she removed the covers.

Wow, thought the boy. She's beautiful.

From her cloven hooves, to her trio of long tails, to her fluffy pink wings, to—well, he wasn't going to go into the area that his doltish brother Terrence referred to as "the boobies" – to her horned crown, Frankie remained very much the most beautiful female he had ever seen, though her girl-next-door beauty had given way to an exotic, otherworldly beauty.

"You... you really think that?" asked the vision.

"Uh... I, uh, I didn't say anything..." stammered Mac.

"I know," she answered. "You thought it. I can hear thoughts, Mac. Not the Friends' thoughts, but I can hear yours." Her paw, the one that wasn't blocking her bosom from view, touched his cheek lightly. "You're the sweetest, Mac. I wish there were more people like you."

Mac blushed deeply. "Well... I, uh... I try..."

A smile spread across Frankie's face for the first time since her change. "Oh, Mac... c'mere."

Her furry arms swept the little boy up into a hug, and for a few moments, at least, all was right with the world.

"Did you find anything yet, Frankie?"

Frankie's fingers danced across the keyboard, while one of her tails handled the mouse. "Nothing yet... just a bunch of sites that you really shouldn't know about yet."

Having finally somewhat come to grips with the fact that she had changed, Frankie had turned her attention to trying to figure out exactly what it was that had happened to her. So far, her searches had only turned up some rather odd "furry" art.

"OK... let's try 'blue fur' plus 'stripes' plus 'hooves' plus 'horns' plus 'wings' plus 'three tails' plus 'three eyes' plus... gosh, what else could I be leaving out..."

"What about the necklace?"

"...necklace?"

"Yeah... the necklace Bloo gave you. You're still wearing it."

She looked down. "Ohmigosh, I forgot all about it! Do you think this thing's responsible?"

"Only one way to find out!" Mac leaned over and added "blue jewel" to the search string. Sure enough, this search finally turned up something useful.

"Tobin's Guide to Mystical Creatures," read the young mutate. "Sounds as likely as anything I'm gonna find."

A link took her to the site, where she was rewarded with an image that looked almost exactly like she did. "Bingo," she muttered.

Her eyes moved on to the text. All three widened in shock.

"'The Valix demon?' I'm a demon? How can I be? Demons are awful, awful monsters! I don't wanna be a monster! I can't be a-"

"Frankie, calm down... maybe there's more. Keep reading."

"Okay... fine... maybe it'll tell me I'm destined to wipe out humanity or something." She groaned and read on.

The Valix Demon: This breed of demon is rare in that it lacks the predisposition to cruelty and malevolence that other demon breeds possess. In fact, Valixes are reknowned for using their powers to help others in need. Even so, they often fall victim to so-called "demon hunters" who, in their ignorance, believe them to be evil. Very few existed, and the last was believed to have vanished off the mortal plane in the mid-11th century.

Valixes are identified by their fur, which is generally in bright colors like blue, green, and pink. They hatch from eggs, and newborns are mostly female, with about one in four born male. Valixes are born with wings and one tail; they grow two additional tails as they mature. They possess cloven hooves, clawed hands, and large canine teeth. They possess three eyes, enabling them to see beyond the natural spectrum. Mature Valixes grow horns, and adult females possess three breasts and a sealable pouch for carrying young after they hatch.

"See, Frankie? You're a NICE demon."

"That must explain why I don't feel like laying waste to society," replied Frankie. "But I don't understand... if there aren't any of these things left, why am I one?"

"Look, there's more..."

In the late 5th century, it is believed that one Valix demon was captured by the sorcerer Merlin, who sought to use the creature for his own ends... when she refused, the wizard imprisoned her soul in an amulet. It is believed that she will remain sealed in the amulet until it is worn by one whose kindness equals her own...at this point, she will expire, passing on her form and powers to the wearer.

"So it IS the amulet that did this!" exclaimed Frankie. I bet if I take it off, I'll go back to normal!" She yanked the amulet off, only to discover that her new form remained unchanged.

"It says here that once the change occurs, it's permanent, and can never be reversed, except for one case... if the amulet is destroyed."

"Great!" exclaimed Frankie. "I'm gonna go find a hammer!" she continued, hurrying off.

"'However, this will also result in the death of the wearer...' Oh no! Frankie!" Mac ran off after her, as fast as his little legs could carry him.

To be continued, maybe.