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Timmy Turner & The Red Headed Monster	By : misato29 Category: +1 through F > Fairly OddParents Views: 34763 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own The Fairly Oddparents and will not make any money from this or any otther story. All rights belong to the original copyright holders. This story is written for fun and should not be taken seriously.

Chapter List
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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. This was written for my own (perverse) pleasure and I wish to share with adult fans who I hope will appreciate it. Comments are most welcome.
Not appropriate for underage readers. Strong sexual content, some cartoon violence, scenes of underage sex & nudity. In the end I hope it will be considered a love story.
Do Fairy Godparents really do their Godchildren any good, especially those who lose their fairies and memories of the magic in their lives?
Introduction: Da’ Rules! change:
Every couple of hundred years, the Fairy Council has Da’ Rule book updated. That is, they did until Timmy Turner was adopted by Cosmo & Wanda. The council could not keep up with the constant changes inspired by the buck-toothed boy and recalled all copies of the book. A single master copy (with loose leaf pages) was issued and each Fairy was required to study the pink updated pages, the green revised update pages, the yellow re-revised updates, the orange highlighted contradictions, discrepancies, notes, unresolved issues on the pink, green and yellow pages. A special section of blue pages was added to accommodate questions Timmy had asked but were never answered.
Hundreds of fairies were drafted to amend Da’ Rules! The system worked until the day Timmy innocently asked a single question. “What good are fairies if children lose them and forget the magic?” Everything went to hell after that…
Chapter 1: Timmy woke up and found the monster in his bed.
“It’s not fair!” he thought. The bed is the spaceship, the floor is outer space and the furniture is/are (?) asteroids. (Timmy paid little attention in class, especially English since “I already speak it good”). The bed is supposed to be safe from space monsters.
The bed is the submarine, the floor is the ocean and the furniture is/are/am the undersea mountains. Sea monsters shouldn’t be able to get into submarines.
The bed is the deserted island, the floor is lava and the furniture is/are volcanos.
Why is the space-sea-lava monster sleeping in my bed? Again???”
He felt the creature’s warm breath on his cheek. The monster held him in its grip, its claws around his waist. His face was pressed into her moist tank top, between her breasts. Timmy hated that. He had been drooling in his sleep and sleeping in his drool… between her tits.
“Why are you in my bed?” he asked. The monster opened one terrible eye, “What time is it twerp?” “Figure it out yourself!” then “OOF!” as the creature attacked him. Digging her claws into his ribs, he begged her. “Stop it… stop it… stop… please… can’t breathe, can’t…” It was no use, she knew his weakness. He couldn’t stop laughing as she ran her tickle talons across his ribs. He was so ticklish there.
“Say it” she said. “Say it”
“No, never! No, no, oh God, stop.”
She leaned in close, her lips centermeters or millipedes (he wasn’t sure which was correct). “Say it Timmy” The monster won again. “Vicky is the best babysitter in the world” The tickling slowed. “And the rest of it, twerp?” Timmy knew that he had lost. Again. “And I am the luckiest boy in Dimmsdale to have such a kind and wonderful babysitter.” He shut his eyes tight knowing the doom that awaited him. She kissed him on the tip of his nose, then lightly on his lips before letting the boy go. Vicky ignored the exaggerated sound of retching he made. “Oh yuck! I’ve been poisoned! And I keep telling you that I don’t want you sleeping in my bed.”
She didn’t bring up the fact that he was crying until she had slipped under the covers next to him. He hadn’t stopped until he felt her arms around him. Instead she said, “And since when do I listen to what you have to say?”
She was wearing her usual night outfit, a pink tank top and green panties. Sometimes he imagined that there were eyes, living eyes on the panties. He had a vivid imagination. He always seemed to see eyes and faces and even floaty crowns in impossible places. She stretched as she got out of bed and Timmy was amazed to see how tightly the panties squeezed her ass, her hips and her… her…pussy. He didn’t know why that mysterious place was named after a cat! Was it furry and have claws? Did it hiss and spit? Did it cough up furballs? He didn’t know. The panties were disturbingly translucent (a word Timmy understood for the first time). He could almost see it all! It scared him and fascinated him at the same time. He had been in the monster’s arms all night and did nothing except sleep peacefully, “I could have touched that. I could have done things,” though he wasn’t exactly sure what he could have (should have) done. He knew she had public hair down there. Timmy wondered why it was called public hair if adults went to such lengths to hide it. His own personal down there place was smooth and he liked it that way. It made rubbing it easier. He had been doing that a lot lately
Suddenly one of the eyes on the panties was blackened. Timmy blinked. “Wait a minute, it’s the panties that are pink” he thought “and looser and un-translucent!” The tank top was now green and tight. Vicky’s teenage breasts were being squeezed by the fabric, like invisible hands. Her tits were small, but firm and shaped like a pear. Two pears. A pair of pears…. The nipples grew larger as the tank top squeezed and kneaded her tits. He needed those breasts, those tits, those titties. He liked that word, “titties”. Boobs and boobies sounded funny to him, but “titties” sounded… dirtier, nastier. While he wasn’t really sure what to do with a pussy, he knew what wanted to do with those titties. He slept between them last night… and it wasn’t the first time. “Next time I’m gonna’ get under her tank top” he bragged to himself. He was unaware that he was drooling again.
Timmy felt a buzzing going on in his down there place. It wasn’t a sound, it was a feeling… a throbbing in his PJs. He liked when it swelled up like this. “Wow” he thought. “I’m having an election in my pants.” That was another word he hadn’t gotten right yet, but he definitely would vote for it. He’d vote every day! Two or three times a day, if he could. And he’d vote five times a day on the weekends.
On the one hand he wanted to show it to the monster like he used to show it to his mom when he was younger. On the other hand he was afraid that the red headed monster would bite it off. He had a vague memory of someone’s mouth, tongue and lips doing something down there. He avoided the thought. On the one hand one thing, on the other hand another thing, so he moved both hands over his crotch to both feel and protect his raging little boy “boner” (at least he got that word right).
He noticed that the green tank top now had two black eyes and seemed to loosen its grip on the Vicky’s firm teen-aged titties.
Vickie knew exactly what he was doing although she was facing the other direction. “Boys are so easy to read” she thought. “Even one as young as Timmy... Our Timmy… My Timmy.” She scratched her butt and tugged her panties out of her ass crack and yawned. She loved to tease him.
She headed to the bathroom and called over her shoulder, “If you want to go to the beach you need to take a shower!” As she headed out the doorway her panties and tank top came sailing though the open bedroom door, landing on the floor by Timmy’s bed. They didn’t stay there long.
As Timmy took an incredibly long sniff of the panties that now covered his head, he momentarily wondered why he hadn’t realized that they were blue, not pink and green. At least there were no eyes now.
Timmy ran to the door just in time to see the monster enter the second floor bathroom. He caught a glimpse of naked pink skin and red hair as the bathroom door closed behind her. He had some trouble tucking his blood engorged dick back into his PJs. For a moment it appeared slightly green with two eyes and begging to be let out, to be free. Then he noticed that the bathroom door was only half closed.
Was it a trap? He approached on tip toes and just as he peeked around the door the monster’s claws grabbed him and in a puff of smoke (add obligatory sets of movement double lines to indicate excessive speed) pulled him in so fast that his empty PJs remained standing for a few seconds before falling to the floor. The green PJs became entangled with the pink panties and tank top. Maybe it was the wind. Maybe there were ghosts. Maybe it was fairies. Or maybe it was what it appeared to be. A little boy’s green PJs were humping a young woman’s pink panties and tank top.
Next Chapter: Breakfast with a Beast
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Timmy Turner & The Red Headed Monster