Timmy & Vicky Go To The Mountains... Sorta

Where Timmy Wonders What Went Wrong:

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. I do not condone drinking, drugs or any of the sexual activity or situations in this story. It's a fantasy.

That last thing she had said was, “I’ll call ya.”

He waited.

Nothing.

He didn’t try to contact her. Not at first…

He was “the guy,” it wasn’t his place to call her. Was It?

Was it?

Timmy was kind of sad. Did he disappoint her? Nah, that couldn’t be. He fucked the shit out of her, didn’t he? Yeah. And she’d fucked the shit out of him too. Their hatred for each other just made the sex better. That… and the booze.

“Why doesn’t she call me… she promised to?” he moaned.

Then he called her… or tried. She didn’t return his calls or his texts, then she blocked his number.

He tried nonchalantly to stroll past her house at odd hours. But then Tootie came out and he found an excuse to be elsewhere. He didn’t want to see her sister. Only Vicky…

Then his parents gave him the good news. They were going out of town on a business trip. “No honey, you can’t come too, it’s business and you have school.” He hadn’t even asked if he could come, they paid so little attention to him! He doubted they even noticed him perk up when they said they’d be gone for a whole week, they didn’t care.

In Timmy’s head he was already living out a thousand fantasies. Seven days, seven nights with Vicky! In his bed, on his floor. On the kitchen table. Standing up, laying down, doing acrobatics! Oh God, in his parent’s bed! He so wanted to fuck her in the same bed his parents slept in. He knew where his mom kept her toys! He wanted to use every one of them on the evil red headed bitch that made his days so miserable and then so amazing, that one weekend in a leaky tent.

He wanted her to use those strange, dirty items on him too. He didn’t know what half those things were used for. “But she’d know!” She’d show him their dirty, dirty secrets.

The long pink ones, the fat black ones. The small silver pointed ones with wires and batteries. The ones that buzzed and vibrated and made strange motions and thrusts.

The clamps.

The needles.

The ping pong paddles with holes drilled in them. “What was that all about?”

The cuffs… Oh God, the many, many chains. Thin soft ropes and thick scratchy ones.

Rubber and plastic and steel objects that did things he could only guess at.

Yeah, Vicky could teach him what all those things his parents kept secret were used for.