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Timmy Turner’s 13th Birthday Part IV	By : Wendell Urth Category: +1 through F > Fairly OddParents Views: 4104 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Fairly OddParents and all associated characters belong to their respective creators and owners, not me. I receive no compensation for this story.

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Timmy Turner’s 13^th Birthday Part IV – Homecumming
Timmy, Vicky & Veronica have a weekend party. Secrets will be revealed. I do not condone any of the sexual themes expressed here. It's all a fantasy.
Disclaimer: The Fairly Odd Parents and all associated characters belong to their respective creators and owners, not me. I receive no compensation whatsoever for this story.
1. Friday Afternoon
Lake Dimmsdale, an exclusive community for the rich and famous. Dozens of luxury vacation homes, custom cabins and cabanas around a private lake. Each home screened off from the next.
Like everything else in Dimmsdale, there was something off about the Lake Dimmsdale development, something shady. The fabulous homes developed problems after a few years. Foundations buckled, roofs leaked, windows warped and could no longer open or close. Saunas developed strange smells and suspicious growths and stains. The lake itself, once a beautiful, deep blue now had a pale orange sheen. Pleasure boats left in the water too long developed rot.
There were rumors of body parts sometimes washing up on the lake shore, still cuffed to cinder blocks. A private security firm was well paid to cover up any scandals and collected the parts and dumped them back in the lake… or so the rumors went. Lake Dimmsdale was outside the jurisdiction of the Dimmsdale Police Department anyway.
People still maintained their summer homes as a status symbol. You really weren’t anybody in Dimmsdale society unless you had ‘a place by the lake’… you just didn’t go there much if you were smart.
After a while the rich stopped paying for repairs and instead spent the money maintaining the lawns and landscaping. Curb appeal hides all sins.
Unless…
The busted ass green convertible, smelling of oil, belching smoke and screeching at every turn looked out of place cruising the manicured estates. Suspicious. Property owners would have immediately called the Lakes private security firm… except no one was home.
“Left! Left! I said ‘like’ turn, ‘like’ left! No, your other left!” shouted the blonde! “That way,” pointing in the opposite direction from a moment ago.
The red headed driver snarled, “Do you mean right, you dumb bimbo?” as she drove through a hedge, back tires tearing up the lawn while executing a 180-degree turn.
Timmy Turner sat silently in the back seat while the two women in his life argued in the front. “Typical” he muttered. He had a tire iron in his lap and day dreamed about clouting the two of them in the back of the head. He had also heard the rumors the lake being a good place to dump bodies. “But then, who would I fuck?” he thought to himself. It was nothing more than a day dream, anyway.
A beautiful dream.
Standing up on the seat while holding onto the speeding convertible’s windshield, Veronica peered into the distance and began shouting again, “There it is! Like, over that way!” excitedly pointing to a narrow tree lined lane. “See? See? I like told ya I knew where it was. I’m like so positive.”
“Trixie & I used to come here all the time!”
Cursing more, Vicky swerved again in the wrong direction nearly throwing Veronica out of the car and crashing through an abandoned kennel before ending up on the road. She slammed on the brakes. “You sure this time, Blondie? This is the third time ya been ‘like so positive.’”
“Yeah, yeah. See the sign?”
“See? I told ‘ya. Trixie & I used to come here all the time!”
A small wooden gate blocked the road marked with an ornate sign, lavender paint peeling, “Casa de la Tang.”
“Timmy, make yourself useful. I don’t think the car can take another collision.”
Timmy sighed loudly. “Why do I get all the hard jobs?” he muttered, climbing over the seat with the tire iron. Vicky laughed and grabbed him by the shirt causing him to fall into her lap in a tangle of limbs. “Hey!” he complained as she began to kiss him while Veronica “huffed” jealously. "Don't know what you see in him anyway."
"Yeah, cute but dumb. I like 'em that way!"
Vicky then half threw him out of the car and he hopped over to the gate. The tire iron made quick work of the rusted padlock. He swung the gate open and ducked as Vicky gunned the car past, narrowly missing him. “Bitch!” He shook his head and closed the gate, replacing the lock with a new one. The plan had been to make it look like nothing was disturbed in case security drove by, but considering the damage Vicky had already done to the neighborhood they might as well have posted a sign pointing in their direction marked “Vandals Welcome!”
He trotted up to the car. Vicky and Veronica were kissing… or trying to kill each other by sucking their breath out. It was hard to tell with them sometimes.
As he tried to climb back in, the car jumped forward about ten feet.
“That gets so old, Vicky!” Timmy yelled.
“Nah!” she said. “You fall for it every time.”
Veronica laughed, stuck her tongue out at him.
Timmy sighed. It’s no fun when one of your girlfriends laughs at you… especially when she has your other girlfriend’s spit running down her chin.
He threw the tire iron in the back seat and carefully climbed in on top of Veronica who gave an exaggerated “Oof!” They all knew she wasn’t really complaining.
He stuck his hand under her shirt and grabbed onto one of her small titties and began squeezing. Veronica let out a long buzzing “Purrrrr”. Timmy was smiling broadly at Vicky who was giving him dirty looks. She hit the gas and the car sped off down towards “Casa de la Tang”. “Whatever the fuck that is?” Vicky muttered.

The house was maintained much better than the others by the lake. “Waste of money!” Veronica said, “But that’s Trixie’s father for you.” She rolled her eyes.
“Where’s the fucking key?” Vicky complained while smoking a small cigar as Veronica began prowling around the large deck. “I know it’s here someplace,” the blonde said. Vicky shot Timmy a look and he ran back to the car and got the tire iron.
Veronica said “No, I know the key is around here. Give me a minute”
Vicky crushed the small cigar underfoot. “One minute, then he uses the tire iron on the door. Two minutes, then he uses the tire iron on your head.”
“As if!” Then, “Here it is!” finding the spare key on a nail under the deck stairs. She opened the door and then saw the alarm pad. Timmy began to get nervous but Veronica punched in the code. “Trixie’s birthday, of course.”
Vicky began to argue with her, “Why didn’t you tell us there was an alarm?”
“Doy! All these places have alarms... and I forgot. It’s been years since I’ve been here.”
“Whoa” said Timmy, clearly impressed. Even Vicky’s jaw dropped. It was quite a place.
The downstairs was one huge room, leather couches and chairs, mahogany tables, expensive throw rugs. A large open kitchen and dining room, windows facing the lake. Veronica gave the impressed teens a quickie tour. Bedrooms upstairs. Fire place in every room, a sauna.
“Timmy, Blondie, go the car and get the stuff.”
“Who made you the boss of me?” demanded Veronica.
Timmy closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the sound of the slap that immediately came. He opened his eyes and saw Veronica rubbing a red cheek. “That was really a dumb question!”
Vicky smirked as the two others went out to the car to get the food hamper and their suitcases. It was really a love tap, though one of Vicky’s love taps could bring tears to most people’s eyes.
Truth was Veronica did that kind of thing on purpose. She liked challenging the older girl. She liked her reaction, the abuse.
In strict psychological terms, Veronica’s condition was classified as being “a sick fuck.” Look it up.
When Timmy and Veronica reentered the home, Vicky was struggling to start a fire in the fireplace. Starting and maintaining fires was something she did usually did well, given her talents as an amateur arsonist. Veronica shook her head. “Pullease… It’s like, a gas fireplace, ya know? Gas?” and ran over to help her, slapping away the burning matches in Vicky’s hand.
Timmy shook his head and began opening the food they had brought.
Timmy was pretty much always in charge of preparing their food. Asking Vicky to cook or even microwave anything would result in getting hit in the face with the potential meal. It was only a question of whether the food was still frozen or boiling hot before it was hurled.
Asking Veronica was less violent, but in no way effective in producing a meal. She’d turn up her nose and look at you like Cinderella, who just discovered a dead rat in her glass slipper. The idea of preparing food for someone else to eat was foreign to her nature.
Considering the poisonous muck his mother produced, Timmy had learned to cook for himself at an early age and tonight it was mostly going to be microwaved meal packs.
He looked over the island as he set the table. Vicky was sitting on the thick white throw rug in front of the fireplace. She was smiling, planting quick kisses on Veronica’s recently slapped cheek. Then Veronica buried her face again in Vicky’s lap. Wet sounds, slurps, sucking noises drifted into the kitchen.
Timmy called and Veronica lifted her head. In the firelight Timmy could see the reflections off the juices that covered the girl’s face. She was licking her lips.
“If you’re done eating her, can the rest of us eat now?” Timmy called. “That joke never gets old,” he thought.
Vicky stood and stretched. Momentarily satisfied and at peace. Being eaten out by the teen girl had that effect on her. She strolled over to the dining area in her green blouse and nothing else. Timmy was removing his pants. It was going to be a family meal. Not a lot of things could mellow Vicky out… and none for them for very long.
Family meals:
Sometimes Vicky sat at the head of the table as ‘mother’, Timmy to her right as ‘son’. Veronica? Sometimes to Vicky’s left or next to Timmy as ‘friend’ or ‘guest’.
Sometimes Timmy sat at the head as ‘husband’ and Vicky to the right as ‘wife’… or reversed. Vicky liked being the ‘husband’ and Timmy had learned to enjoy being the ‘wife’ in their relationship. Sometimes Veronica was their ‘daughter’.
But mostly… Veronica was just their ‘pet’. It was up to her.
She usually did not sit at the table. Pets don’t sit with their owners. Like tonight.
Veronica changed into her dinner outfit. That is to say, she stripped off all of her clothes and crawled on all fours at Vicky’s heels as she walked. Occasionally licking or kissing Vicky’s ankles or sole of her foot. Her small tits pointing downwards, fat reddish nipples swaying slightly.
Veronica didn’t just like being humiliated at times. She demanded it. She craved it.
The kind of pet she was changed depending on her mood, her needs. Sometimes all she wore was a spiked collar and nipped at the others’ heels. Eventually a kick in the face or belly was needed to calm her down. Then she sat under the dining room table growling, nipping at the fingers of Timmy and Vicky as they fed her scraps.
Tonight, she was wearing her gold collar which went so well with her soft blonde hair. A small medallion hung from the collar with a stylized “Ronnie” on one side and “Property of V&T 4Ever” engraved on the other.
Vicky sat at the head of the table, Timmy to the right occasionally holding hands, feeding each other. Vicky’s leg reached out, toes curling, climbing on Timmy’s leg. Footsie-ing its way up to his naked lap. He reached under the table, dangling a chicken strip. There was a soft purring. A tentative lick to his fingers, then with a kiss, the chicken was gone.
Vicky’s foot rubbed against his balls, but you wouldn’t have known anything was going on looking at the two of them eating and laughing. Then there was another lick. Vicky’s toes curled; Timmy slipped a little in his chair. Vicky’s big toe began stroking Timmy’s hard cock. Veronica began licking her foot and his dick at the same time. Timmy reached down and found Veronica’s head and stroked her cheek.
The meal went on.
Suddenly Timmy began to pant, heavily. Vicky dug her nails into the top of Timmy’s hand, drawing a drop of blood. He let her. She lifted his hand, licked the drop of blood, kissed it. Veronica was greedily sucking his cock. Her full attention was on him. Her hunger for his cum. Then he exploded. Vicky felt a splash of cum on her foot and calf. She smiled and waited. Veronica began licking and kissing and sucking on the redhead’s foot and leg. Her sharp tongue finding every drop.
Then she began cleaning Timmy. He began petting her under the table. “Good girl! Good girl!”
And she was… for now.
After the meal, Timmy cleaned up. Veronica crawled out from under the table, her hair and face a mess of chicken and cum. She headed towards the bathroom. A few minutes later she reemerged. “Uh-oh” Timmy muttered. “The Princess is back.”
The fact was that Veronica had several personalities. Valley Girl was the one she showed the public most often. But in private… well, the Princess just made Timmy tired. She was just ‘too good for the room’. Pampered, privileged. The word was ‘disdainful’. She treated him like shit. Tried to ignore Vicky (“As if that’s even possible!”).
The only good thing about the Princess, is that whenever Vicky finally convinced her to fuck Timmy, she was an animal. There was nothing gentle about sex with the Princess. It took a lot of work. “Totally worth it!”
It was amazing that her different personalities were different kinds of fucks too. Valley Girl didn’t seem to pay much attention. “Wham, bam… I gotta text someone.” Sometimes there was the lost little girl who just clung to you and sweetly crooned in your arms and sang, actually sang as she orgasmed. Then, there was Veronica as Vicky. Creepy. Their bodies were nothing alike, but fucking Veronica as Vicky was like fucking/getting fucked by Vicky. Vicky (the real one) loved it, fucking herself like this was better than masturbating. Red wig, a little makeup. It didn’t take a lot for her to become Vicky… physically, emotionally. Just a little shorter.
A few times, Veronica became a female Timmy. She called herself Timantha and like all her other personalities, she seemed to believe she was a real person. Brown wig. Fake teeth. Timmy fucked Timantha once and swore he never would again. Then he fucked her again.
He liked Timantha. He liked her a lot. Not just the fucking. He wished he knew what he could do to bring that personality out more often. More than the Valley Girl, more than the Princess. “Wow, I think I’m in love with Timantha. I must really be crazy,” he thought. “Hope Vicky never finds out.”
Timmy sometimes wished her could take all her different personalities and mash them together into one complete person… because there were some good things inside her. It was usually just too much trouble to dig these traits out. She could be really funny sometimes. She was a natural mimic. She could impersonate Vicky, Timmy, Timmy’s Mom & Dad, almost everybody they knew. She could even sometimes look like the person she was impersonating.
Timmy knew that Vicky found this vocal talent useful in some of the scams she and Veronica were running. Timmy didn’t inquire too closely in what these terrible women were doing, but he knew they slowly getting rich and moving money from one scheme to another, coming out a little better each time. Timmy just hoped that when the law finally caught up to them, that they would at least end up in the same prison together… and prayed that he’d be allowed conjugal visits to both.
The fact that he was 13, Veronica was almost 14 and none of them were actually married never occurred to him. In his heart and soul, he was married to Vicky and she was also married to Veronica… so he must be too, right?
Like tonight… If his wife (and her wife) decided they needed to break into a private home, then he had to go along too. Not that he had done anything wrong… did he? He just did what his wife (and her wife) told him to.
Later. On a mattress they pulled out onto the deck, Vicky had finally gotten through to the Princess. She was on her back, legs up in the air as Timmy pounded her as hard as he could. Vicky was laughing, slapping him on the ass as hard as she could (“For encouragement!” she said) while sticking a wiggling middle finger deep in Veronica’s ass, who was objecting to being anally entered by someone who obviously didn’t wash properly.
Deeply fucking her cunt, both hands pressed against her small perky titties, Veronica was simultaneously complaining that he was fucking her too hard and he wasn’t really big enough to satisfy her. “The Princess!” he said, exasperated. He was a little pissed off, but not enough to stop banging the shit out of her.
He pressed his mouth against hers, either for a kiss or to shut her up. Vicky was now playing ping pong with Veronica’s clit. She had stopped complaining for a moment while in the throes of her second or third orgasm. She was leaking cum on the expensive mat.
Vicky was getting bored, she practically threw Timmy off the exhausted blonde, grabbed Veronica by the hair and covered her cunt with eager Veronica’s lips. Their pet clearly hadn’t enough to eat at dinner. She made up for it now.
Vicky reached down and pulled her swollen labia apart, demanding that “the bitch” really get deep inside and “work that hungry tongue”.
Timmy was exhausted too, he sighed. Vicky shot him a look and demanded, “What the fuck are you looking at, beaver teeth!” Then, “Get down here! NOW!”
Timmy pressed his face against Veronica’s, both pressed between the redhead’s strong thighs. He licked her cunt, once, twice… hoping that would be enough. It wasn’t.
“No stupid. The ass. Eat my ass, beaver boy.”
Veronica smirked.
“You, Blondie! You don’t get to laugh at my Timmy. Get me a stick.”
“Uh-oh” Veronica and Timmy said at the same moment, but for very different reasons.

They slept that night downstairs in front of the fire. Timmy had been pleased that it had been the Princess that had finally returned with the stick and was happy to watch that stuck up bitch get beaten instead of one of her other personalities. The Princess deserved a good beating every once in a while. Even more than Velley Girl.
In Timmy’s mind this made sense. He had trouble sometimes remembering these were all the same person.
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Timmy Turner’s 13th Birthday Part IV