Mutant High

Your name is John Doe. You are eighteen years old, and a high school student. You are not human. You are Homo Sapiens Superior, more commonly known as a mutant. Your genetic make-up has an X-factor, and it manifested itself at the onset of puberty. Your strength and speed is at inhuman levels. You can outrun a draft horse and can bench a small car without breaking a sweat. You are very muscular, but lean (this is fortunate, it allows you to keep your physique concealed under baggy clothes). Through a mutant healing factor, you are able to recover from the most severe of injuries in a matter of minutes. Through it, you are immune to disease, and you cannot become tired or exhausted. You don't need sleep, although you still retire quietly to your room every night, at first out of habit, but now solely not to arouse suspicion. You have heightened senses: you can see just fine in all but absolute darkness, you can make out a whispered word up to fifty yards away, and have a sense of smell so highly developed you can identify a person, even tell if they’re aroused, from their scent alone. No one can hide from you, as you can track like a bloodhound.

In addition to all these secondary abilities is your primary power. You are capable of releasing powerful pheromones, and over the years, you have refined this ability significantly. You can release them by secreting them though your skin or expelling them into the air. By secreting them through your skin, you need only touch your skin to theirs. This can only affect one person at a time. By expelling them into the air, however, you can affect anyone; from whoever is in arms reach to an entire auditorium, depending on the volume you release. Thanks to your healing factor, your body replenishes the pheromones nearly instantaneously. As well being able to control the quantity of pheromones released, you can also control the potency. You can make someone anywhere from mildly aroused to so consumed with lust they’ll fuck the first member of the opposite sex they can get their hands on. And, fortunately enough for you, the pheromones have two side-effects: they leave whoever was affected with temporary amnesia—they have no recollection of the events that took place during the duration of their arousal; and they also have a contraceptive affect. As long as you use your pheromones to arouse someone, they can’t become pregnant (or impregnate anyone—your pheromones affect both genders, however, they only make those affected aroused—they don’t cause you to automatically become the subject of that arousal—that’s up to you).

You are always careful with where and how you use your powers, and you have told no one about them. Mutants are hated and feared almost universally, probably something to do with them being the next evolutionary step up from humanity; and you’ve always had an aversion to angry mobs. You don’t particularly feel like being lynched, so you tend to keep a low profile. Anti-mutant hysteria is at an all time high, but if you keep your wits about you, you should manage to avoid getting yourself killed. It probably also helps that your primary power has no visual cues—kind of hard to be spotted releasing invisible, microscopic chemical signals.

Morning. You get out of bed; go through your morning routine, and head to school.

As you walk up to the front doors you notice a gorgeous British Racing Green Jaguar Convertible parked right up front. It has New York plates, that read, you chuckle to yourself, MRVLGRL, set behind a license plate frame indicating that the driver is alumni to some Xavier’s Institute for Gifted Youngsters. You wonder to yourself just why in the hell some recruiter for an out of state school for the mentally handicapped is doing at your high school, and furthermore, what said recruiter is doing driving a Jag!

Curious, you glance in the window to the office as you walk in the front door, and feast your eyes on the most excruciatingly beautiful woman you’ve ever set eyes on. She’s a knockout redhead, with entrancing green eyes and a killer figure, looking incredibly sexy in her professional business attire. You’d wager any man alive would sell there own mother into slavery for just a shot with a woman a like this. Just what in the hell is a babe like that doing recruiting for a private school for “Gifted Youngsters”?!

You’re interrupted from this train of thought (and your ogling) by a throat being cleared in front of you.

You look down to see a short, peppy blonde in a cheerleader uniform.

“Just what do you think you’re doing staring at that woman like she’s a side of meat? Do want people to think you’re some sort of pervert, John?” Her name is Mandy, and you’ve been platonic friends (much to your dismay) since as long as you can remember. She loves to tease you, but it would never go beyond that… without a little help from your powers, anyway. She’s an extremely energetic fuck, although she has no clue you know this firsthand. “Besides, I thought you had a thing for cheerleaders,” she smirks mischievously at you, “if you want, you can skip first period and watch us warm-up before the Pep Assembly. The girls think it’s cute how you follow me around like a lost puppy—even though you know you’ll never get anywhere with me…”

Those pretentious bitches… you’re sorely tempted to take her up on her offer, just to make them into mindless, cock-hungry sluts (not too far from the truth for most of them) and fuck the whole condescending lot of them.

Then again, your next class, math, while normally a subject you disdain, has an extremely hot, prudish teacher. One of the advantages of going to a school built during the cold war is the place is built like a bunker—no windows, and essentially soundproof walls. This, and the fact your class is all male, with the exception of Miss Henderson, you’ve been considering turning everyone in the room on until a gang-bang ensues.

Then again, you’re feeling particularly mischievous—and horny. Perhaps you’ll wait until the Pep Assembly and release enough pheromones into the entire student body and faculty to erupt into a massive orgy.

But what you’re really wishing is that the redhead in the office was here to see you. But what are the odds of that happening?