Adult-FanFiction.org : Cartoons

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
- 7
- 8
- 9
Back to Vicky's bathtub (You pervert!)

Vicky hoisted her long legs onto the sides of the tub. It was time

The thatch of dark red curls danced in the gentle waves. "He likes the way my pussy looked" she remembered dreamily. "He liked it." She giggled, "It's probably the only one he's seen... besides his mom's." She had full memory of what she had forced the Turners to do. She could remember what she had felt. Did it matter to her now? Probably not.

She had never had an orgasm before. Before... Him. She had cum close several times before in the bath, thinking about boys, about girls in school... thinking about ways she could punish... she broke off another thought of "Him" for the moment. She couldn't think about that now.

Him.

Vicky had thought about maiming, killing, doing all sorts of unspeakable things to Timmy all day (before and after the forgotten choker had dissolved and rewrote the connection in her brain & body). She had tried to curse at him; call him every foul and hurtful name she could think of. And she could think of a lot of ways to hurt a boy with words or chainsaws. It was a talent. After what she had done to the boy and his worthless fuckwit parents the day before, he should have trembled broken on the floor at her feet. Maybe she had gone too far, she wondered. But that didn't really matter to her at the time. Now? Those kind of thoughts brought blinding pain. Impossible pain.

Ten? Twenty or more times it happened. That was enough. It was too much.

Her body had betrayed her. And saved her.

A connection in her brain had been created. Conditioned reflex. The pain was too much for the body to bare (bear? One incident had felt like a bear rending her kidneys for a snack - Vicky tartar). After a while the brain blocked off any possibility of a thought or action against the boy. Literally, she could not even think a negative thought about him now. The brain/body responded and cut off the thought before it could form.

More had been done to her. The pleasure centers had been affected as well. New connections replaced old ones (which had been mostly blocked anyway and had rendered her frigid, unable to cum).

Pleasing Timmy sent spikes to the brain's pleasure centers activating various levels of sexual response. Pleasing him in a small way brought slight pleasure. Thinking about getting him a soda? A tickle down her arms, a lover's gentle kiss to her throat. A promise to take him to an amusement park? A lover urgently stroking her breasts. Letting him beat her? A rising tide of orgasm, impossible levels of ecstasy.

New G-Spots formed on her body where ever Timmy had touched her. She was becoming a walking, talking sex arcade. And every time she made him happy, she became more enslaved to pleasing the boy.

And God help her if she didn't make him happy or if he sent her away. Like an addiction, blinding despair was the least of it. It was impossible to go cold turkey from the drug that was 'Timmy Turner'. There was no recovery center or 12 Step Program to get the 'Timmy Turner Monkey' off her back.

She was hooked. She was a Timmy Turner addict jonesing for her next jolt of joy, her next hit.

She didn't know how this had happened after her victory over the Turner's the day before.

Any trace of the magical fibers that had reconditioned her had faded. Magic couldn't undo the science of Dr Pavlov and his conditioned responses and reflexes.

She hadn't been brain washed. Not even brain rinsed, starched or brain hung out to dry in the breeze. She could clearly remember every evil thought and sickening act she had planned and enacted. She just couldn't ever, ever think them or do them again.

All she could think about was ways to please him and give her another dose of sexual pleasure.

"I'm in hell," she had thought while sucking his boyish cock as he tore small strands of hair from her head. Every tug, every hair yanked out was an explosion of pleasure, knowing how it made him happy. She squealed like a pig in heat when he came and kicked her in the stomach.

In hell and loving it. "What am I becoming?" she had wondered. "If he kicked me any harder, he could have broken a rib... and how much more would I have loved that." The truth was most of her injuries were superficial. She didn't know if he meant it that way. He had a lot to learn about torture.

Present time:
Her gash was insistent. It needed the attention of two...no, three fingers. (Thinking about Him). "He'd love to see me like this, all naked and vulnerable in the tub. And I'll show him. Ill take his fingers, his small boy's hand and slide it in and out of my poor pussy that he loves looking at so much... Using me. Abusing me. He'll love that!" Abusing herself now, faster and faster she finger fucked her hole sending tidal waves through the tub.

"What a dirty, dirty girl I've become," she giggled. Her other hand finding her clit and finally understanding what it was for. Stroking it as it swelled. Flicking it... Tugging it... Loving what it did.

She thought about all the wonderful dirty and evil things they could do together. That he could do to her. "I'll be his whore. He needs a whore like me." Fever, she was burning up now half expecting the bath water to boil. Her spasming legs churned the water. "God, I need him so much" She ducked her head under the water as the waves of her next orgasm sent lightning bolts through her nerves. Legs splayed out now, bath water splashing every where.

"What a slut I've become." Her pussy convulsed as her head broke the surface again. She gasped for air. "Oh Timmy, I wish you were here, right now!"

She watched one of her hands now tangled in the thatch of thick red curls. Dreaming of buck teeth gnawing, gnawing, gnawing.

Her legs churned the water. "God, I need him so much. I can make him so happy!" She ducked her head under the water as the waves of her next orgasm sent lightning bolts through her nerves. Legs splayed out now. Bath water splashed every where.

Vicky had thought about doing unspeakable to things to Timmy all day (since the choker had been dissolved and rewritten the connections in her brain & body). After what she had done to the boy and his worthless fuckwit parents the day before, he should have trembled broken on the floor at her feet. "Did I go too far" she wondered? Didn't really matter to her. But now, thoughts like that brought blinding pain... or it had.

Ten... maybe twenty times her thoughts about the boy had turned to hate, murder and mayhem. That was enough. It was too much.

Her body betrayed her. It had protected itself. A connection in her brain had been created. Conditioned reflex. The pain was too much for her body to bare (bear? One of the incidents felt like a bear rending her kidneys - Vicky tartar). The brain now blocked off any thought or action against the boy. Literally, she could not even begin to think a negative thought about him now. The brain/body responded and cut off the thought before it could form.

But even more had been done to her. The pleasure centers of her brain had been affected as well. New connections replaced the old ones (which were blocked anyway and had made her frigid, unable to cum).

Pleasing Timmy sent spikes to her brain's pleasure center activating various levels of sexual response. Pleasing him in a small way brought a slight burst of pleasure. Thinking "I'll bring him a soda" was a tickle to her throat as a lover brushed against her with a gentle kiss. "I'll take him to the amusement park" urgent hands on her breasts, squeezing her sensitive nipples. "I'll let him beat me?" a rising tide of orgasm bringing new levels of ecstasy.

New G-Spots had formed on her body where ever Timmy had touched her. She was becoming a walking-talking sex arcade. And every time she knew she was making him happy, she became more enslaved to this boy.

And God help her if she didn't make him happy or sent her away! Like an addiction, blinding despair was the least of it. And that it was impossible to go cold turkey from the drug that was 'Timmy Turner'. There was no rehab center, no recovery clinic, no 12-Step Program to get that 'Timmy Turner monkey' off her back.

She was hooked. She was an addict, a 'Timmy Turner' junkie just jonesing for her fix of that sweet, sweet drug. And she still had no idea what had happened to her after her victory over the Turner's a single day ago.

Any trace of the magical fibers that had reconditioned her had dissolved and magic couldn't undo the science of mean Dr. Pavlov. Conditioned responses and reflexes. And a little rewiring. She wasn't brain washed. Not even brained rinsed or starched or brain hung out on the line to dry. She could clearly remember past evil actions and thoughts. She just couldn't ever, ever do that again. And all she wanted to do was please him.

"I wish he was here right now, driving his wonderful boy cock into me. Slapping me again. Loving me. Hurting me..." She began to shiver in the cooling half empty bath and laughed. It was not the evil laugh that Timmy heard in his nightmares, not the laugh he heard when she had forced his parents into unspeakable acts against him the day before. No, this was a different laugh.

Her parents heard it and could not understand what could have brought their older daughter such joy. "Did she burn down an orphanage" her mother wondered? "Again?" her father added as he stared at the bathwater running down the ceiling.

Tootie heard the laugh. It was the sound of doom to the little black haired nympho-masochist. "No Vicky, you can't have my Timmy," she wailed. "Don't fall in love with him, he's mine" she pleaded while driving the sharpened Timmy shaped dildo up her tiny asshole.

She was still "Icky Vicky," still evil, the most hated and feared babysitter in Dimmsdale. There had been some changes. There needed to be more. She was no longer alone. She and the boy would start their own family. (Her own parents and the Turners were only accidental relations of no importance). Timmy would need other whores to love. She had to accept that. She would find these bitches now and bring them to him to make him happy... so he wouldn't leave her. He'd need her. He would come to love her as much as he now hated her... and she could teach him so many things. They could have such fun together crushing the souls of the victims she brought him to make him happy.

They would never have the 'lovey-lovey' stuff. She had destroyed any chance of that. Well, that was OK too. What they would have would be better. "Because he's just like me now!" Or at least she thought so.

"Who can I bring him first?" She wondered as she stepped out of the bath onto the flooded floor. Someone we can easily break together and is annoying enough so he wouldn't care." Someone of no importance that they could practice on, that they could hone their skills with. She didn't have to think long. The answer was across the hall...

It occurred to Vicky that for her plans to work, she needed to keep Timmy from finding his own girls. "Well, that shouldn't be a problem, given his record with girls so far." He couldn't stand the only one attracted to him. That's why they would have so much fun with her.

But Vickie hadn't counted on what Timmy had done to her. What he did once, could be done again.
- 7
- 8
- 9
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

I Love You Timmy Turner