"What?!" a shrill voice pierced through the barracks-like office of Jurgen, enforcer of THE RULES. Not cowed by the small fairy's vitriolic fury at his denial, the massively bulked fairy replied with the same casual dismissal.

    "Sorry, Cupid, but THE RULES clearly state that office of Fairylord is not open." The pink and red colored fairy bristled. He'd worked centuries to gain the title of Fairylord, plotting and backstabbing as efficiently as the so-called 'Love Machine' could. He began floating back and forth, a sort of mid-air version of pacing.

    "Look, Jurgen," he said as politely as his whittling professionalism would allow, "I've made the requests for this position for nearly a thousand years. Surely the paperwork went through around the Dark Ages?" Jurgen remained unexpressive. Taking his own copy of THE RULES out, Jurgen flipped it without moving his gargantuan arms.

    "THE RULES state that the office of the Fairylord is only open if a position is available within the fairy workforce. It's not!" With that, he slammed it shut with a thunderclap, sending Cupid flying through his window. Jurgen poofed in front of the tiny fairy still ringing out his ears with his wand. "Look, Cupid, so long as there is a Fairy Godparent for every child who needs one, there will be no Fairylord. Get over it!" Jurgen took his massive wand and, hefting it like a golf club, lined up a shot against the other fairy and belted him back in the general direction of Cupid's palace. "Haha! Fairy in one!" An assisstant approached him, looking up in the air.

    "Fine shot, sir. It's time for your morning scrambling of the fairies." Going from unamused to giddy in a nanosecond, Jurgen poofed a button into place and smashed it with his fist, sending klaxons blaring across Fairy World.

    Within the palace of Cupid, a ball of flaming light streaked down from the sky and, with a blazing exposion, smashed a number of sundry statues and meticulously hedged gardens into oblivion. A female fairy in a business suit rather unbecoming of a member of Cupid's coiterie picked up the 'meteor' by the hair. The charred fairy spat out a few perfectly-white teeth before staring in the other fairies direction.

    "Oh, it's you," she said without a hint of concern, "I figured Jurgen would have offed you by now, sir." Fuming, Cupid poofed back into his perfect visage.

    "You'd like that wouldn't you, going from my secretary to having my job?" She didn't answer.

    "I take it the Fairylord's still an open position, sir?" He ground his teeth on his wand.

    "Unbelievable! Why make a position like that if it can't be filled?! The Fairylord has ultimate power over all fairies, but nobody can claim the spot! I. Want. That. Spot!"

    "Not nobody, sir." His eyes blew open. He rushed towards her, taking her up by her suit-collar, so close he could kiss her if he wanted to.

    "What do you mean?" She smacked him away with a flick of her wand, bowling him through a statue of Venus. With a twist of her wrist, she opened her own copy of THE RULES.

    "While you were out doing drive-by's in Italy during the Renaissance, I looked up the fine print. You CAN get the job, sir. All you have to do is get a kid to 'lose his Fairy Godparents before their time is properly due.'"

    "W...why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

    "You didn't ask, sir." As much as Cupid wanted to murder his secretary in elaborate fashions over this, he still couldn't contain his elation.

    "Fine, fine! How do we do that?" She pulled out a large pair of spectacles and peered into the lettering of THE RULES itself, the magical properties of the paper allowing for whole texts to exist in fine print on the letters alone.

    "The child in question must be the one most recently granted his Fairy Godparents, and must be made as content with his life as if his conditions had actually changed. This causes a number of placement loopholes that allow for the position to open."

    "Ooh, sounds tricky. Show me who it is." She waved her hands and a mirror appeared behind him. He peered into it as the portal began to haze from his own reflection, which he stared at with no small amount of self-satisfaction, to an image of a human home. The view flickered from the living room, up a flight of stairs, to a small boys room. Inside was a small boy playing video games. He had a pink hat, large buck-teeth and...oh no.

    "Timmy Turner? He's the one I've got to make lose his Godparents?" He turned blood red and threw his wand through the mirror, shattering the idyllic scene into a thousand shards. One of the shards showed the fishbowl containing Cosmo and Wanda, the Fairy couple who were both his aides and protectors. There was no possible way that they would allow him to...he paused. The small gears that made up the foundation of his mind began to twist and sputter into activity. A serpentine grin creased his Botox-addled face.

    "Get me my bow...I've got some target practice coming my way."

    Within the Turner home, the only sounds were coming from televisions. Downstairs, Mom and Dad were watching the news with glazed over stare. Above, Timmy was playing Alien Disembowler IV, equally as mind-wiped. Cosmo and Wanda, in their goldfish forms, were floating peacably in the bowl, when suddenly one of Cosmo's scales began to vibrate incessantly.

    "Ooh! Scale-call!" With a movement of his flipper, he pulled out the scale and put it to what amounted to his ear.

    "Uh huh. Yeah. Sure thing. Right. Love you."

    "What was that about?" Wanda asked.

    "It's mother!" Wanda bit her lip.

    "Uh-oh, is she coming over? What's she trying to break us up with this time?" He gave her his typical, vacant look.

    "It's not like that, Wanda! Mother has a date!" She looked at him incredulously.

    "A...date?"

    "Yep. And she wants us there to meet him. Said something about 'what to really find in a relationship.'" Wanda slitted her eyes, but said nothing.

    "What about Timmy?" was her only reply. They both looked at him, completely zombified by the glowing screen and images of impalement and xenocide.

    "Right," they replied in unison. And with that, Cosmo pulled out a miniature briefcase, and the two of them poofed out of existence in the room. A few minutes later and the doorbell rang.

    "Timmy!" Mom and Dad called. Keeping his eyes fixated on the screen, he began to walk with a somnambulists pace to the door. He opened it still hypnotized by his romp in the digital world. As soon as he saw who stood at the door, he sobered up instantaneosly.

    "Evening, twerp!" Vicky. Why was it always Vicky? In the whole of the world, why did his parents always send for Vicky, when surely there were more qualified sitters somewhere on the earth?

"Me and your mom are going out to Charlie Cheese to eat pizza and maybe play a few rounds on the air hockey tables! Have fun!" Timmy implored to them,

"But wouldn't that sound like something fun for ALL of us to do?" They looked at each other for only a moment before laughing and pulling out matching his and hers Whack-a-Seal clubs.

"Have fun, Timmy. We will!" and with that, they skipped to the car, which rocketed away in the direction of some seriously good times. Quite unlike what Timmy was experiencing, he thought. As the door slammed, he looked up at Vicky, staring down from her green tank top. She was cracking her knuckles and grinning fiercely.

"Now it's time for MY fun, twerp! Footstool!" It wasn't an observation, as the Turner household had no footstools. It was a command and, in an instant, Timmy was on all fours as Vicky lept into the couch and began scrolling through the TV. She dug her heels into his spine in a way that couldn't have been coincidental. "Nothing's on. Guess it's time for the Pay-Per-Watch." After numerous rummages through Timmy's parents belongings, Vicky had their credit card numbers by heart. "Let's see," she said as Timmy, facing perpendicular to the screen could only see the faint color of the room turn dark blue as she accessed the menu, "Mindless Slaughter 9? Nah, too sappy." This went on for a few minutes and, as his back began to numb from the abuse Vicky was hauling onto it, Timmy began to zone out. Without Cosmo and Wanda, there wasn't much he could do except to stay crouched and hope she didn't try to use him as an ashtray. Not that she smoked, it was just a hobby of hers to put out matches on him. A moment later, and Timmy could have sworn he heard a fast, sharp sound, like something cutting across a vast swathe of air in and exceptionally quick time. It was followed by a low but unmistakable 'thunk'. As soon as Timmy was prepared to risk Vicky's ire by looking to investigate the sound, the light from the TV changed from blue to a bright white. "Yeah, that's what I'm talking about!" Timmy couldn't see any of it, and Vicky gave no inclination as to what was being shown. He did notice that her heels were carving into him at an odd angle, not one he was used to feeling. Come to think of it, Vicky had grown very quiet. In lieu of her usual heckling, cackling, and requests for popcorn, she was silent, although her breathing was a bit off-tempo. Curiosity overtook Timmy, and he lifted his head up, trying to see what was on the...he blanched.

On the screen were two people, not actors of any kind he had ever seen, doing something to each other naked that his mind couldn't process. It looked like wrestling, with numerous different holds and locks, but there was no referee, no crowd, nothing. He blushed beet red at the sight of people, even pixelated on the television, nude. He wanted to look down but, not unlike a traffic accident, he found he couldn't look away from the strangely interesting scene. Timmy quickly dismissed the notion that the two of them were fighting. No punches were being thrown at all, or kicks. They bit each other from time to time, but it seemed more like nibbling. Also, who fought on a bed? Not only that, but they both seemed to be enjoying themselves, smiling and shouting 'yes' and 'more'. It seemed fairly repetitive to him, as the only part of their bodies that hit were their...well he didn't know what to call them. The girls 'thing' seemed to be gone, replaced by some hole meant for holding the guy, who was fitfully putting his own piece, far bigger than his own, Timmy noted, into said hole. Timmy wasn't bored, the sight too shocking and unconventional for it to every be, but he was noticing the repetition. That was until the man began swearing at an alarming rate and, almost faster than Timmy could process, pulled his thing out, pointed it at the girls face and did something with his part that Timmy had never known was possible. It looked like the usual stuff as it splashed across the girl's face, but it was white and seemed to have a thicker consistency than water. As the two 'actors' went back to the strange bed dance, he began to wonder what Vicky was doing watching people fight naked on the bed. He looked up the other way, and his puzzlement only grew. Vicky had one hand up her shirt, rolling her hands around her chest, and one down her pants, moving rhythmically around the black material. She was making the same sounds as the girl on the television, and was thrusting forward in what looked like an imitation of the 'fighting'. Timmy oftentimes emulated his favorite shows, pointing ray guns made of fingers at invisible invaders from Pluto, but he'd never done anything that involved him reaching there. In another moment of curiosity, Timmy looked and saw the man's piece was fully straight, and he was stroking it like he was polishing a baseball bat. Keeping himself level, Timmy moved his hand seruptitiously down to his own crotch and began squeezing and petting, simulating what the odd movie was showing. He felt odd, which was saying something considering most things he did in the average day. It felt like something was awakening within him. It seemed to grow and swell until...he looked down. Pressing against the cotton of his jeans, his piece had enlarged. It wasn't anywhere near to the massive size of the actor's, but it was the largest he'd ever seen his own stuff get. As he continued to pet and fondle it, he began feeling an unusual, but very enjoyable sensation. He'd never felt anything like it, but he certainly wanted more. Like a sugar fiend who gets a hold on a chocolate bar, Timmy needed more. He began stroking it in rhythm to the actor, the action making a zipping motion as his fingers went against the grain of his pants. Forgetting the consequences for the sake of the feeling, Timmy pressed on, the funny feeling increasing as the seconds crawled by. It wasn't for a few minutes that Timmy realized Vicky had gone silent again. As he looked up with large eyes, he saw Vicky staring down at him once more.

"Like that, huh, twerp?" Timmy didn't respond, although whether it was by fear or embarrassment, he couldn't be sure. She reached down for him. Timmy didn't move, pinned down as he was by her heels. Picking him up by his shirt, she tossed him into the cushion next to hers. She spread her legs and pulled him closer. In his bewilderment, Timmy didn't resist. The things Vicky were doing bordered on 'nice', a setting he felt she just wasn't programmed with at birth. She took his arm and made it so that his hand was at her waistline. She pointed and said, "do that!" Timmy tore his eyes from Vicky and looked at the screen. The guy was rubbing his hand across the girl's hole, back and forth. Not wanting to upset Vicky, he placed his hand on her crotch essentially where the actresses was, and began to move his hand around the black material. "Wrong!" she yelled, and Timmy snapped his hand back as if bitten. She rolled her eyes in disappointment and stood up. There was something in her eyes that Timmy had never seen before. They seemed to sparkle in a way that he'd only ever seen in Tootie's eyes before. Before he could dwell on that any further, Vicky had begun pulling her pants down, taking her underwear with her. Timmy was too astounded to do anything but stare agape at Vicky's half-nude form. As he looked at her nakedness, he couldn't help but feel that same strangely good feeling come over him as before when he was on his knees. He pondered how that could be when he wasn't touching it. Certainly it couldn't have anything to do with Vicky. The movie, perhaps? He wouldn't get an answer directly. Kicking away her pants, Vicky sat back down on the couch. The actors changed positions, the guy laying on his back and the girl on her stomach, her face inches away from his piece. He almost didn't notice the tugging at his jeans. Almost. Timmy looked and saw that Vicky's small fingers were unbuttoning his pants. He reached down, trying to prevent the action, but the growling from Vicky's direction stopped that quickly. Growing even redder with embarrassment, he looked away as he felt the tingle of the zipper go down, strafing against his piece. Moments later, he felt the tug as his pants came down entirely. Vicky oohed at the sight of Timmy's part. He was surprised by this, as anything he did that genuinely interested her was rarer than jewels. He stifled a yelp as he felt her hands rub across him, stimulating him even further. He began to feel slightly out of breath.

"Vicky?" Timmy asked. "What are you doing?" She gave him an impish smile as she leaned her head over and began pulling down his underwear. Vicky had bathed Timmy in the long past, but she usually treated that endeavor with the same care as someone removing toxic waste. He remembered her lording over him, tongs in hand as he nervously stripped, like a laboratory experiment. That was the Vicky he knew, but it was not the Vicky breathing heavily over him. Her hands flickered against his part as she stripped him. As he looked down, he came to a sudden realization as to what it was he was feeling now towards her. It was so simple, he was actually amazed he didn't realize it before.

Fear.

Unequivocal fear. That was the answer to why his lower extremity had decided to stiffen and harden. It was petrified of Vicky's ministrations. He had gone bolt-straight like that many times, and now that she was targeting a specific part of him, it only made sense that it would freeze as well. Timmy began weighing his options. It was clear to him that Vicky was aping the actions of the television, so perhaps if he played along he'd be safe. He prayed silently that the movie didn't turn out in the end to be a horror show. He looked at the screen and, true to form, Vicky was on her bare knees, just as the actress was. He braced himself as he saw the naked woman grasp the man's part. Like clockwork, he felt the sensation of Vicky taking hold of him. Something was amiss, however. Unlike usual, her grip wasn't a vice-like stranglehold. Quite the opposite, he noted with no small hint of relief, she was cradling his piece and the two balls below, rubbing and fondling them softly. It felt strange, but somehow enjoyable. As she began stroking him smoothly, he found it had become very, very enjoyable. In fact, it was only by a whim did he notice the next scene in the film, and it was a cruel one to be sure. In the fuzzy glow of the TV, he watched with terror as the actress leaned down and actually took the man's rod in her mouth. Perhaps this was a horror, some cannibal ritual that involved lulling the victim into some false sense of security. His mind raced, but his body wouldn't react, the conflicting signals colliding and jumbling in his mind. Before he had a chance to sort his menagerie of thoughts, he saw Vicky's ponytail sway to the side as her head bobbed down, down onto his fear-laden shaft. Then, a most surprising thing happened. First, he didn't scream. Second, his eyes turned wide and glassy as his lower body was washed in unbelievably pleasurable sensation. Where he had expected the gnashing of teeth, he found the lolling of a tongue, and the wet suction of lips. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. Timmy couldn't even think. All he could do for many moments was simply sit there and begin the arduous task of processing what had just happened in the last ten minutes.

His mind surged as Vicky began tingling his sac with her fingernails. As warm and soothing as her mouth was, his stiffness didn't dissipate. In fact, it grew harder and perhaps a bit longer. It felt incredible, better than any wish he'd ever asked for. The dissonance of the fact that this was coming from Vicky didn't enter into it. All reason in this instant made room for sheer ecstacy. He wanted to feel this way forever, and it seemed to be that way as the minutes crawled lovingly away. Just as he was going to enter a stupor, he found Vicky's rhythm was growing faster. It felt good, but something wondered why she was opening her pace. She was moaning breathily onto him, and the vibrations were tantalizing on his shaft as her tongue mercilessly lashed its underside. He looked and saw that Vicky had a hand in her own place. She was rubbing her fingers over the hole she had at a furious pace, far faster than the gentle stroking she was giving him. Just as before, the screen was imitating life. He watched with a hazy interest as the lady stopped her mouthwork and got on her knees in the other direction, facing her rear to the actor. He kneeled in behind her as the camera zoomed in to show that she had two holes. The actor grabbed himself and, to Timmy's amazement, stuck it into the lower hole. In his bewilderment, Timmy didn't notice that Vicky had not only stopped licking him, but she'd also somehow gotten on her stomach, legs spread, her eyes imploring him to approach. He did willingly. If this felt at all as good as before, he was more than happy to try. He kneed her legs even wider to give him easier access. Timmy looked and saw that it wasn't a hole, per se. He could see slick flesh glistening at him as Vicky stroked a finger at the top of it all. Curiosity got the better of him, and he reached down himself, using his own fingers to spread apart her rosen lips. It felt warm, very warm. It was wet, as well, as he slipped a finger in to feel the texture of Vicky's inside. She tensed and drew in a sharp breath as he did so. Timmy was breathing differently as well, quick and deliberate. Taking his shaft in hand as he had seen,he moved forward, and pressed the tip of his rod against the slick lips. Timmy looked over and saw the man thrusting with gusto into the woman, both of them swearing and moaning at each other. He had to feel that. As he pushed his hips down onto Vicky's, that's exactly what he did.

It didn't happen all at once. First, the tip of his shaft slid in, with a sensation so powerful he had to make a conscious effort not to pull out in response. As he pushed himself further into Vicky, he noticed the change. This was different. As different from the feel of her lips as her lips were to her hands. And better. Infinitely, mind-bendingly better. He put himself all the way in, sheathing himself within Vicky, who let out a breath that seemed to have been held in since time began. Her air returned in a throaty moan. Timmy couldn't hear her though, his heart was racing too fast from excitement. Her womb was like a hundred mouths, each suckling on his rod as it touched another area of her tight womanhood. He tried desperately to put himself even further into Vicky, although at this point that was physically impossible, he was so deeply implanted into her. Desperate to feel that burst of ecstasy again, he followed the lead on the screen and pulled himself out, making Vicky moan in another tone, but no less lusty. Just as quickly as he could see his tip again, he thrust back inside her, quickly now. To his elation, it felt even better, the stimulation of the movement against him increasing the pleasure even more. He began to penetrate in and out of her in fast, uneven thrusts that spoke of the inexperienced, lustful movements of one not educated in the nuance of sex, but desperately grasping for every piece of gratification.

Vicky couldn't stop herself. Although she couldn't fathom why she had suddenly gained a sexual interest in her former chore-slave, she cursed herself for not acting on these apparently repressed feelings sooner. A sad mistake, that she would let him punish out of her. With every vicious, animal thrust, she would let him right every wrong she had invited on him. As she felt his small fingers dig into her hips as he gained purchase on her, she reached her hands back and grasped his own hips, pushing them towards her, putting him further inside her. Vicky's thoughts were becoming scrambled now. Her pleasure and sensation overriding everything, her thoughts turning to static with each slap of hip against hip. She could feel Timmy's pace increasing, only further confounding her thought. Soon, she felt as if she couldn't even form words in her own head. Vicky then stopped thinking, coming undone at the feeling of so much intense physical feeling as Timmy pistoned himself in her over and over again. She let herself be washed away by her lust and let her body do what it wanted.

Timmy couldn't hear the TV anymore. Like a teacher whose lessons were already learned and discarded, he focused only on the sensation. He was feeling things that he never had before, least of all with Vicky. It wasn't just the sensation in his loins, although that was the greatest of them all, bar none. He could feel the heat emanating from the both of their entwined bodies, smell the heady perfume of sweat as they exerted themselves. The touch of her skin in his hands was surprisingly delicate, considering how stony he had felt about her before. He could hear her grunt and whimper with each pounding thrust and, as he leaned over in order to enjoy every sensation possible, even tasted her glinting flesh with his tongue. The feelings in concert were becoming too much for him. He wrapped his arms around Vicky and quickened his already berzerker pace. Her pants and heaves became one constant, ululating moan, and Timmy could feel her entire body begin to quiver under his grasp. The movement even effected down there, and he was suddenly overcome with an intense tightness. Far from being fearful, Timmy fought against it, thrusting harder now, trading speed for power, desperate to feel this new squeezing euphoria. As he went on, he noticed a building pressure from just behind his rod. It was unusual but, like many such things this night, wasn't unwelcome. He could hear himself now, grunting and moaning into Vicky's back, his thrusts now completely without form or decorum, completely focused on the act of penetrating her as deeply as was possible. The pressure built too fast for Timmy to control; to him, it was like trying to stand your ground against a tidal apocalypse. He held it back for only the briefest of moments before he thrust into her as hard as he ever had that night, and released, fountaining Vicky's womb with the contents of his first orgasm. For many moments, Timmy continued, desperate to continue his maddened gyrations, until the ghost of exhaustion fell over him, and he collapsed on the sofa, his tip leaking a trail of thick, white fluid from it's origin all the way back to Vicky. She reached a pair of fingers down, shaking as they were, and dipped into her womb, taking the semen and letting it drip from her fingers. All she could utter was "Timmy..." in a shuddering, hoarse whisper.

For once in the Turner household, Vicky actually did some cleaning, albeit this was more to hide evidence than to be productive. Timmy was unconscious after the ordeal, and she had to clean him in order to get the worst of the physical evidence washed away. While it was true that she couldn't resist temptation while in the act, hiding saliva was far easier than the other things. As she tucked him into bed after clothing him in his pajamas, a thought struck her. Timmy, to her mind in any case, only did what he did to punish her for what she'd done to him all this time. Her eyes widened as she closed the door and heard the Turner parents return. If Timmy didn't hate her, he couldn't take his aggression out on her...in that way. After what she'd experienced tonight, there was no way she was ever relinquishing that kind of orgasmic pleasure. No, if she was going to keep this up, she was going to have to make sure the status stayed quo.

"What?!" the question reverberated around the Palace of Love, cracking numerous marble statues of its patron.

"Jurgen says the kid still needs his Godparents. Apparently, he's been increasing his current wish requests lately. Something to do with a babysitter giving him more trouble than usual." Cupid's secretary said with utter nonchalance. A vein, bulging and purple-pink, began to throb on the overdressed Fairy's skull. He snarled and began hovering back and forth in the magical version of pacing the floor.

"All right, Turner. Round one goes to you...but I'm getting that title. And you're gonna love what's coming up next. I guarantee it..."