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I Love You Timmy Turner	By : Wendell Urth Category: +1 through F > Fairly OddParents Views: 10443 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Fairly Odd Parents or any of the characters in this story. I have no financial interest, expect no money, etc. for this story. Not appropriate for underage readers. “see full disclaimer below".

Chapter List
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What is love? Timmy's parents said they loved him, but still neglected him his whole life. And after the events of the previous day he never wanted to hear that word from his parents again.

What were Pavlov's dogs and why did they drool when their cruel Russian master rang a bell in their ears? Was that love? And did they still love him when he rang the bell but neglected to provide the snacks?

Cosmo & Wanda said they loved him, but had their magic made his life any better? He was still bullied, mistreated and ignored. And they were going away soon and he'd forget them. That's what had driven old Crocker insane. Was that love?

Magic hadn't gotten Trixie to care about him. Could he really love someone who didn't care if he lived or died?

What is the difference between the Mind and the Brain? The Mind and the Body? Are they connected? Does the Body know Love? The Brain? WHAT IS LOVE?

Could you love someone who causes you pain? Abused people often defend and protect their abusers. Is that love?

Vicky entered the Turner home. She had her own key, its common for trusted babysitters to be given a spare key. She also had a key to their car, which is not so common. And a key to the Turner's safety deposit box at the First National Bank of Dimmsdale. And a notarized Power of Attorney which meant she pretty much controlled the Turner family now. And a document giving her full custody of the minor child Timothy "Timmy" Tiberius Turner. She really had no idea what she was going to do her new possessions, her new broken toys, but... there was always casual cruelty to amuse her.

Truth is Vicky had wormed her way so deeply into their lives that it was impossible to extract her. She was a infection that had invaded every cell of the Turner body and spread her poison.

"Good morning Mr. & Mrs. Turner," she said brightly, entering the kitchen. The couple turned towards her; breakfast still uneaten. A look of weariness on their faces. They still hadn't recovered from the events of the previous day.

Vicky smirked, an expression that came naturally to her. "And where is our dear little Timothy?"

Mrs. Turner, a confused expression, "Timothy? Oh...Timmy" as if she had forgotten for a moment who that was. "Oh, he went to school? I guess. School." She looked at her husband who was intently staring at an uneaten piece of toast he had buttered an hour ago.

"Yes." said Mr Turner dully. "School. You know, school?" More loudly "The boy's in school." As if either unable to say his son's name or remember it.

Vicky, bright with malice, "Silly, it's Saturday. No school for our dear Timothy today. Or should I say... MY little Timothy? I'll just go up to his room. I'm sure he'll be happy to see me." She winked at the couple.

Ashen, Mrs. Turner stood up. Vicky turned back to face her, raising an eyebrow. The housewife deflated and sank back into her chair.

"They're no fun!" Vicky thought. So she leaned over, grabbed the older woman by the hair and gave Mrs. Turner a big sloppy kiss on the lips. No reaction. Mr. Turner continued his sojourn to the land of cold buttered toast.

"Oh. Before I forget, I have a little job for both of you." Now she could smell their fear. "When I come back downstairs, we need to discuss 'our' living arrangements. I think it would be just wonderful if you invite me to live here full time... Don't you?" She winked at them.

Silence.

Enunciating each word, "I SAID, DON'T YOU?"

"Yes"

"YES, WHAT?"

"Yes. Yes Vicky, that would be fine."

"I think you should make that 'Yes, Miss Vicky' from now on. Doesn't that sound better?" Mr. Turner glanced from toast to wife to toast again. "Yes. Yes, Miss Vicky."

Skipping from the room she called up the stairs. "Oh Timothy 'dear', are you dressed?" It was a very nasty 'dear'.

Timmy was dressed. He'd been up all night and looked it, dark circles under his eyes. His door was suddenly kicked open, that's how she usually entered his room when his parents weren't home, but that was no concern now.

"Hello Twerp, miss me?" She leered at the boy sitting on his unmade bed. "What's that you're hiding behind your back?"

"No... nothing... don't"

She wrestled a small package out of the boy's hands. He sprang from the bed but she swatted him down, examining the small brightly gift-wrapped box.

"NO! NO! NO!" he yelled.

The Turners downstairs heard the commotion... and did nothing.

Grabbing him by the shirt and shaking him, Vicky then threw him to the floor like trash. "Oh look, a gift for me? You shouldn't have!"

He sprang at her again, but he was no match for this bully. Or any of the bullies in his life. He has never been a match without his magical backup. But Cosmo & Wanda weren't here now. Timmy was pinned to the bedroom floor, Vicky's foot on his throat.

Laughing again, she examines the package. The bright pink wrapping paper, now torn. The label addressed to Trixie Tang, askew.

"Stupid, do you think she'll want to have anything to do with you? Specially after I arrange a private screening of that video, hmmm? Think she's going to want a gift from a boy whose mother did those kind of things to him. Who's father did things like that? And a boy who let them...?"

"That's not yours, give it back!" He is nearly in tears, shaking in anger.

"Listen stupid, don't you get it yet?" Applying more pressure to his neck with her foot. It would leave a nice bruise. She liked leaving nice bruises. "Everything in this house... Every ONE in this house belongs to me now. Everything."

She rips the paper off a small jewelry box, looking down at the boy with exaggerated pity. "God, this is fun," she thought. Then, "She's been laughing at you your whole life, you know."

She removes a black choker from the box. An inch-wide shiny black band, small silver clasp at the back and a green jewel skull at the front. A Harlock Pirate Skull (think of The Punisher logo and you're in the ballpark... or on the deck of a pirate ship). The babysitter looked thoughtful, actually impressed. "You have better taste than I thought. But this isn't her style at all," opening the silver clasp.

"Vicky please?" he begged "Don't!"

"Not 'Vicky', she said. "It's sooo nice that you bought you new 'mother' a present." as she put the choker around her neck. The silver clasp clicked shut and she turned to the mirror to examine her 'son's' gift. Timmy stood slowly. Vicky said,"I'll wear it everyday, its just perfect. Perfect."

It was perfect. Timmy had remembered the tattoo on thigh from the other day.

Perfect.

Perfect bait.

Perfect trap.

She preened for a moment and turned back to boy, savoring her cruelty... and froze. "Wh..wha...?!?

Fingers scrambling to undo a clasp that no longer existed.

The choker was now a single solid band of silken steel around her pretty throat. The green pirate skull glowing, pulsing with magical malice. Vicky's eyes went wild as the choker lived up to it's name.

It choked.

Shrank.

Grew warm.

Tightening.

"You little bastard," she moaned, stumbling around the room trying to free herself, as the grinning boy danced out of reach and... and then... it stopped hurting.

She unsheathed her claws to tear the boy apart and...

Pain. More pain then she had ever felt in her life, she was struck in the back of the head by a baseball bat. A killing blow sent her to the floor. Somehow she lived and explored the wound, the blood with trembling fingers. Nothing. No blood. No shattered skull. No bat! Just the pain.

No pain.

Timmy smiling.

"What... what did you do to me?" stumbling back to her feet.

"You really are a dumb cunt, aren't you?" He never dared used the 'C-Word' before. He decided it was useful now.

Vicky's eyes went wide in shock. "How dare you...?" She was was going to eviscerate the little rat when suddenly her left pinky broke... was broken once, then twice, then broken again. Then another finger... another. She fell to her knees in agony and examined her poor mangled hand, knowing she'd never be able to use it again. It was fine, no broken bones, no torn ligaments. Just the pain which faded in surprise.

She looked at the boy again. Puzzled. A moment later the anger tried to reassert itself. Her bowels clenched, rumbled. It felt like a small animal with sharp claws was beginning to burrow it's way to freedom... through her rectum.

Sweetly, Timmy said "Vicky, it would make me happy if you went to sleep now."

Shocked, the pain disappeared, "What did you say? Make you happy? Happy?" And she considered it for a moment as a wash of cool, crisp air seemed to settle over her.

Goose pimples.

She giggled. Vicky had never giggled like that in her life, not even when she had tortured small animals (or her sister) as a child.

Pleasure, a tingling in her nipples.

Pleasure, the gentle caress of a lover.

Vicky curled up at Timmy's feet like a kitten and went to sleep.

Timmy looked down at the evil babysitter, who was now his legal guardian. (He wasn't quite ready to call her his new 'mother'). The black magical band was now dissolving but the green skull gem remained on her throat, pulsing it's dead pirate grin. As Timmy watched the gem began to get smaller. He knew that the gem was giving off tiny green fibers the size of nerve fibers passing through her skin, entering her blood stream, moving through her tissues. Heading for her brain. Heading for every nerve connection throughout her body.

Making new connections. Changing others. Rewiring. Changing the plumbing.

Finding the pleasure centers in the brain.

Finding the pain receptors.

Memory and personality were off limits. Timmy wanted her to remember, remember every bad deed and thought she'd ever have.

The Turners looked up from the table, surprised to see their son standing there alone.

"Mrs. Turner, Mr. Turner." he said firmly, avoiding the hateful words for parents. "I want you to pack your things. You have an hour. Get in the car and leave here. I never want to see you or hear from you again." He stared them down.

"Bu...bu...but..." His father was incoherent. That was no surprise

Mrs. Turner, looking at the stairs. "But Vic... Miss Vicky said...?"

"Vicky and I have come to an understanding... or we are about to. But you have no place in my life anymore." After a long pause, "Not after what you did."

He turned away and repeated. "One hour."

"But son," his mother pleaded, "Timmy we love..."

"Don't say it. Don't you ever say it. Don't even think to yourselves that it's true." And he walked upstairs, out of their lives forever.

They were gone in 45 minutes.

Timmy never heard them drive away.

He looked down at the sleeping babysitter who was still snoring gently on the carpet. Totally at peace. In her sleep she looked... sorta' cute... something about the total relaxation of peaceful sleep had softened the hate and anger lines in her face, long eyelashes over sleep rested eyes. The evil was gone... for now. He could almost fall in love with that face...

"Well, too bad about that!" Timmy thought and prodded her awake with a kick to the stomach.

Magic & Science. Science & Magic

Timmy's 13th birthday was a few weeks away. Sometime after that he'd be losing his fairies. The magic would go away... unwished, fade, disappear. But the science would remain.

Timmy had proof, the science would remain.

The magical fibers might disappear, but the changes to the wiring were permanent.
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I Love You Timmy Turner