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Truth or Dare, Dimmsdale Style	By : misato29 Category: +1 through F > Fairly OddParents Views: 29307 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Fairly Oddparents or any of the characters in this story. I have no financial interest, expect no money, etc. I wrotes this for my own pleasure. Comments are most welcome.

Chapter List
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“No, don’t put that shit back in your hair.” Vicky told Veronica. “You look better without it.”
Veronica hesitated, she normally didn’t like anyone to see her with her hair down, not since ‘that’ birthday party when everything changed. Well, it didn’t really matter, did it? Trixie wasn’t here, so she could be ‘Ronnie’ for a little while.
Her hair was still damp, allowing the natural curls to form. Her overly long bangs seemed out of place so Vicky finger combed them back and to the side changing the outline of her face. Veronica frowned into the mirror, but Vicky seemed pleased by the result. Vicky lowered her own head so it was even with Veronica’s own before whispering into her ear, “There, I was right, much better!” When Vicky kissed her below the ear, it seemed the most natural thing in the world.
Vicky could never have done that with her own younger sister, Tootie. The sisters’ got along as well as Nitro did with Glycerin. Everything about their personalities clashed. In truth it was mostly Vicky’s fault and in some teeny, tiny, locked, sealed, buried and forgotten part of her heart, she regretted it deeply… or would have if she allowed herself to feel regret. Then again, she mostly didn’t allow herself to feel much of anything at all.
For an awkward moment neither the naked teen nor the pre-adolescent nymph was sure what to do next. The moment passed and they wrapped themselves in the heated fluffy bath towels and went to find clothes.
Meanwhile…
Cosmo, being the second youngest fairy remembered one of his favorite childhood games, ‘Tag & Go Seek’. Since there had been no other fairies his age to play with, he’d play the game by himself which kind’ a defeated the point of the whole thing. When he hid, no one would find him and when he searched, there was no one to find. At some point, his exasperated baby-fairy-sitter Jorgen had told him to “Go chase yourself.” Cosmo did and while he didn’t win the game, at least he didn’t lose.
Later, even though he was the only contestant, he came in fourth in the Fairy World Tag & Go Seek Olympics. So, missing out on the Gold, Silver & Bronze Medals, he did win the Dead Hamster Medal.
He taught the game to Baby Poof and began to chase his son. Unfortunately Cosmo was a worse teacher than he was an Olympic athlete and Poof ended up following Cosmo instead running from him.
Wanda was searching desperately for her two wayward fairies. She decided that checking on Timmy made sense since one or both of them might be there. She was shocked to see Timmy, Veronica & Vicky(!) sitting, reclining & sprawling comfortably upon thick fluffy pillows on the floor of the lavish cabin.
Her eyes ‘boinged’ out. Timmy? Veronica ?? Vicky??? She looked around for bloodstained biceps, broken bones, busted bottles, banged brains, burst bladders, bandaged bloody breasts, busted baseball bats, battered breast bones, bruised beaten bodies, bitchslapped bitten bicuspids and finding none, was momentarily happy and proud that her godson was getting along with his enemies. Then she saw the beer.
Wanda disapproved of children & teens drinking, even though it was common for children in many times and places to drink wine or beer or other such beverages. It was often healthier than plain water. “And,” she thought, “if Vicky is driving…” Wanda had a solution. She zapped the beer. It would taste like beer, it would smell like beer, but it was no longer alcoholic. Wanda was a concerned, mature fairy godmother. She was also a buzz-kill.
She vanished and continued her search.
Next, Cosmo appeared. Chasing a fairy son who was chasing him was hard, thirsty work. “Beer”, he cried! Slurping up a mouthful he suddenly gagged and spit it on the wall. “Penguin piss” he cried. Actually, he liked penguin piss, but only the fresh kind. Cosmo magically replaced the non-alcoholic beer with fairy beer. Cosmo’s favorite brands of fairy beer were Binkimeiser, Jorgenbrau and Juandissimo Light.
It didn’t occur to him that the effects of fairy beer on human beings were not the same as on fairies.
Previously…
Actually, it was the day before previously.
Unbeknownst to Wanda or Timmy, Cosmo was Mrs. Turner’s invisible drinking companion. When she was drunk enough, Mrs. Turner could sometimes see Cosmo, though she didn’t know who he was or what he was, so Da’ Rules weren’t really being broken.
Timmy’s mom sometimes became maudlin and told Cosmo all about her horrible sex life, her terrible problems, and her disappointments with life and so on. Cosmo would shake his head (which would rattle sympathetically) as he opened a couple more cans of human beer. Of course he had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, but he liked the way she slurred her words, stumbled around the living room and throw her panties on top of his head before passing out. “YAY, PANTIES!” he would cheer.
Human genitalia fascinated the fairy, though he had no idea how they worked. One day (I mean one very drunken night) he kept flying under her bathrobe, examining the slit between her legs (which was nothing like the leafy harmonica shaped steaming avocado cactus that Wanda had between her own diminutive legs) and finally asked, “How ‘come’ your guts don’t fall out of that gash?” Mrs. Turner, who was moments from passing out, didn’t quite hear the question, but answered anyway. “Cum? Cum? Who gets to cum? I’ll tell you Mister, not me! Not me… that’s who…” and slumped to the floor.
Cosmo, who had already consumed a case of human beer, replied. “Well Mrs. Timmy’s Mom, I don’t know who ‘Mr. Knotme’ is, but if you have ‘gum-gums’ in there, I want some! I Love Gum! YAY, GUM!”
He opened her bathrobe, rolled up his sleeve and worked his little fairy hand deep, deeper, deepest into the snoring woman’s snatch. He had to struggle a little to get his entire arm up there, but he must be doing something right, because every time he pulled his arm out a little and pushed back in, she smiled. She smiled a lot. He watched her toes clench. “That must be really good gum” he thought. But in the end, he was disappointed. As deep as he pushed his arm into her, he didn’t find any gum. He thought, “Maybe Mr. Knotme took all the gum!”
He yanked his arm out of her, which made a squelching sound and then a pop as it pulled free. Examining the gooey wet stickiness that covered him from fingertips to shoulder he said, “Well, I guess the reason that’s why her guts don’t fall out, this stuff must act like glue.”
He heard Timmy getting up and decided it was time to go. He wasn’t sure exactly why, but he suspected that Timmy might be a little upset if he found his fairy godfather’s wet sticky arm so close to his unconscious mother’s wide open slit. He cleaned up… well, he ran his soaking wet cum covered arm across the top of a half empty beer can and taking one last look at the smiling, sleeping naked woman, popped out of the room.
A minute later Timmy’s mother woke up. She was still smiling, thinking of the wonderful dream her little invisible imaginary drinking buddy had brought her. Her pussy was drooling, her thighs were soaking wet and she had a feeling of satisfaction that she had never had with her husband. She closed her robe and tottered off to the shower, just as Timmy entered the living room.
“Wow, never saw so many empty beer cans in my life,” Timmy thought, finding one almost full can on the floor. He sniffed at the top of the can, it smelled different than usual… but good! “Must be a different brand,” he thought and drank it down in two swallows. “Whoa! Not as bubbly, but what a great, great taste!” His lips were covered with whitish, creamy foam that he licked off his lips. Maybe a little salty, maybe a little fishy but it was the best beer he ever had. “Mom’s taste in beer must be improving,” he thought. His mom usually bought the cheapest, strongest stuff she could find, but this was a quality brew.
Vicky, wearing a long terry cloth bathrobe sat on the floor cushion with her long legs thrust forward. A towel was wrapped turban style around her thick red hair which dampness had temporarily darkened.
Timmy remembered a discussion between his parents whether Vicky’s hair was naturally red or brown/auburn dyed red. His parents changed the subject to home decorating so he never found out if she was a natural redhead. His mother was wrong about Vicky’s house since she insisted that the “carpets & drapes matched” and Timmy knew for a fact that Vicky’s rug was green and there were white sun blinds on the windows, no curtains.
Veronica, wearing a black Chip Skylark T-Shirt (the 2010 Tooth Tour) over a pair of hidden pink bikini bottoms, was painting Vicky’s toenails a bright pink, occasionally tickling the sole of the teen’s foot. Instead of ripping Veronica’s arm off and beating her over the head with it, Vicky was giggling.
Vicky? Giggling?? And not an evil giggle, it sounded... human, almost… Timmy was having problems completing the thought. There were three words that he was having difficulty joining together into a single thought or sentence.” One was “Vicky,” the second was “human, which was bad enough. But when he tried to finish the thought, the last word wouldn’t come. He took another long swallow of beer. “Cute!” Vicky’s giggles were… were… were cute!
Timmy wasn’t sure what had happened, but thought “Note to self: Keep Vicky drunk on beer when she comes to babysit!” Then, “And finally find out if she is a natural redhead”.
The two girls suddenly looked at him. Timmy had ‘thought’ he thought the “Note to self.” Actually he thought the thought and said the thought out loud at the same time. He didn’t know it, but this was one of the side effects of drinking fairy beer.
Vicky looked at Veronica, Veronica looked at Vicky and both of them began to laugh until they fell over. Timmy, who had expected Vicky to kill him, looked confused and then started to laugh also. Vicky got the hiccups, “Hic-snort-hic-hic-snort”. Veronica got the hiccups, “Huk-a---huk-a---huk-a---gasp.”. Timmy got the hiccups, “Wakeup-burp-wakeup-burp-wakeup.” This was even funnier, and the three of them got hysterical.
“Wait, wait,” gasped Veronica. “I know a great cure”. (Actually, it came out as “Huk-a---Wait, huk-a---wait, I know huk-a---gasp, a great huk-a---cure.”
She ran to the unlit fireplace and ducked inside and stood up on tiptoes. A moment later they heard some stones being moved and then she came out carrying a small locked metal box.
All three of them continued hic-snorting, huk-a---huking and wakeup-burping.
Veronica hesitated before opening the box. “Hey Turner, you’re not going to narc on us, are you?”
“Narconus?” thought/said Timmy.
“Nah,” said Vicky, “He’s no snitch.” Then, like a snake staring down its dinner, she said “Not if he wants to live.”
The trio weren’t the only ones now cutting school. Greg in a near panic had called his younger brother and told him that he had to see him right away. When Francis arrived home he found Greg in his room with his face in his hands.
“Oh, shit! Frances said calmly. “Did you get busted?”
Greg had trouble looking at him, “No, you little cocksucker, but I might be.”
“Watch it bro, we both know who the real ‘little cocksucker’ is around here. What happened.”
“It was that Turner kid,” Greg said. “He came on to me and…”
“Shut up!” said Frances. “You fucked him and now he’s going to rat you out, right?”
Although Greg was older and so much bigger, stronger and better looking than his younger brother, it was clear who the dominant male was. Frances was cold as ice and had no pity for his pervert brother.
Greg said, “I didn’t fuck him, but we were naked in the gym. Vicky and some blond girl caught us, they got pics, maybe even a video. They threatened to make it public unless we leave them and the Turner kid alone. We got to get the files and shut them up”
Frances smiled, his green teeth seeming to glow. “Shithead, what do you mean ‘We' got to get the files? I told you before not to try that shit where you can be recognized!” He thought for a moment, then continued, “The blonde must be that crazy stuck up cunt that hangs out with that Tang whore. She’s no problem. Turner is a pussy. It’s Vicky that might be a problem.”
“You think we can take them?” Greg asked hopefully.
“Maybe, but let’s not rush into this. They have those files and I think we have a couple of days to figure this out.” Then, still smiling, Francis continued. “Yeah, a blonde and a redhead. Sounds like I'm going to a party.”
Greg smiled back at his brother, “And the Turner kid?”
“Don’t worry about him. You’ll have plenty of time with him before it’s my turn.” Then looking into Greg’s eyes without blinking Francis said, but you need to make it worth my while”
“What… what do you…?” But Greg knew what was going on, he had been through this before, but had never been in so much trouble.
“Let’s start with half of your college fund… and your car when I get my permit. Deal?”
“Gee, that’s a lot, why don’t you…”
“I don’t negotiate!” said Frances, who was now removing the belt from his pants.
“No, OK! Whatever you…” Greg gulped. “How many?”
Frances doubled up the leather belt and slapped it against the palm of his other hand. It made a sound like whip crack. “I think five is fair. At least five to start with. Now drop your pants and assume the position.”
Greg knew better than to resist. Skinning out of his jeans and underwear, he “assumed the position”, face down and ass high in the airs. The belt stung. It opened two shallow gashes in the football star’s ass. “At least he stopped at five!” the teen thought in relief. Then he heard the sound of a zipper “No-no-no!” he squealed. The pain grew unbearable - hot, burning, stinging all at the same time. The smell was terrible, the humiliation was total. Now he had to wait until Frances was done.
Francis sighed deeply and with obvious contentment. “There is nothing in the world like taking a piss after giving a good beating." He would show that Turner in a few days.
Veronica opened the box, there was a baggie filled with what was obviously marijuana and three already rolled fat joints along with a dozens of pills of various colors and shapes.
“Oh baby,” said the redhead, “I think I’m in love,” choosing the fattest joint and running it under her nose and sniffing.
“Turner, have you ever gotten high before,” Veronica asked.
Timmy surprised himself by admitting, “No, never tried it.” And, “I guess it scares me.” That was a lot more honest then he intended to be. He had wanted to brag about all his high times (hadn’t he seen all the Harold & Kumar movies, three times? Of course he ignored the H&K anti-drug commercials – boring). He waited for Vicky and Veronica to laugh at him… They didn’t
Oh, any other time they would have gone out of their way to rag on him, the way partiers always do to the straights (and vice versa), but the fairy beer affected them too. They thought about doing it, but the fairy beer prevented them.
“Want to try it?” Veronica asked.
Timmy thought about all the anti-pot movies and lectures and presentations he had seen at school and at home, all the good advice from former dopers and celebrities working off DWI community service by staring in anti-drug commercials.
He thought hard about it.
He thought long about it.
He weighed the information carefully.
He thought about the drug induced rock star deaths.
He thought about every drug destroyed life story he ever heard…
They all began with a single joint.
“Oh yeah, I’m up for that!” he replied after a half second.
Vicky licked the joint lightly and then lit it.
“Yuck” thought Timmy. “I’m supposed to smoke her spit? Oh great, I’m gonna’ get rabies.”
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Truth or Dare, Dimmsdale Style