A door slams, and there's a rumble through the house as Timmy Turner clods upstairs in military boots, scuffing the new wood flooring, and carelessly throwing an old jacket on the couch in the living room.

His mother used to yell "Timmy?" when the cycle began one year ago, but she eventually just gave up. Dad knew better than to even start; he already was braced for it, and suggested to Mom that she accept it as well. "Pressuring them to change only makes them more stubborn," he had said, smiling, fondly remembering being part of Generation X and talking about overthrowing the government while getting high on someone else's property with Mom.

Today: A heartfelt note left pinned on his door to his room, telling him that they would be gone for a while, Vicky should be there by the time you get home. "Vicky...?" Timmy wondered for a second. He didn't see her when he came in. Oh well. Timmy threw the door to his room open and kicked the boots off, one hitting the wall and putting a black mark on it.

"Hey guys, I'm back," Timmy tapped on the glass to the goldfish bowl. He smiled, still no braces, and tapped again. "Guys?" Timmy sat down on his bed, and crumpled back. Cosmo and Wanda had been doing this all week, at first a joke, and now this was happening. It was Friday. Timmy didn't even wish for that much anymore, just barely enough to avoid magical buildup. And Vicky would be Vicky...She still never left him alone, when she was here, that is.

Wanda hopped on his lap, a cat, and Cosmo chased his tail...also a cat. "Hey sport, sorry we're late again," she apologized while purring. Cosmo caught his tail and screamed. "AHAHA! Oh hi Timmy!" and leapt up on the bed with him. "I didn't see Vicky around when I came in," Timmy said, while scratching his godparents behind the ears.

His fairies shrugged. They already had an idea of where Vicky was, but...It wasn't like they were about to tell Timmy. Wanda arranged his boots under the bed, where the rest of his wished up clothes were. Cleaning Timmy's room was a hobby for her now, it used a good amount of magic these days. Cosmo spent his magic up by poofing into animals, but he did that anyway. There were just too many rules for what Timmy wanted to wish for at this age...

SLAM! "I JUST GOT BACK, WHERE ARE YOU!" Vicky screamed and slumped on the couch; Timmy could hear the springs creak underneath her. He gulped. Why did he even wonder where she was? Vicky was almost twenty one, probably out celebrating early. "TWERP!" That old name. Funny, she usually called him worse things while drunk.

"I know you're up there..." she said, quietly. Timmy inched out of his room. "What?" He yelled down the stairs. "Get down here, you little prick." He went down two steps. "More." Five steps. Cosmo and Wanda floated high above him for support. Timmy didn't wish for protection anymore; Vicky didn't really hurt him that much now. "All the way," she growled, and Timmy stood behind the couch that she was laying on.

Vicky turned over, and the couch groaned in protest of her weight. She ran a hand through his hair, newly cut, and gently stroked the earring hidden underneath it on his right ear. Timmy dropped his guard, and pulled his hands out of his pockets. Vicky yanked the little gold ring. "AH!" He yelled while she pulled him closer to her. "When did you get a piercing?" She laughed and shoved his head back. "Stop hitting on me. Fucking fifteen year olds."

Timmy rubbed his ear. Vicky already knew he got his ear pierced, she took him to the parlor in the mall herself. "God, she's done that before," he grumbled and took the earring out to see the damage. No blood this time. Wanda looked on with a frown and gave a look to Cosmo. "At least she's still making me miserable," Timmy wandered into the kitchen and drank milk straight from the jug, which his family had to start buying because he drank a lot of milk these days.

"Get me something to drink, fag," she yelled from the living room. "Like what?" Timmy yelled back in a whine. "...Coffee." She knew that nobody in his family drank coffee anymore. He carried the jug of milk with him into the living room. "Here," he handed it to her. She drank the rest. "I'm not s'posed to drink milk, it kills my diet," she mutters to herself before sitting up, making room for Timmy next to her. He flipped the channel, never staying on one station too long.

Vicky stretched out, and Timmy laid his head on her lap, still flipping. She ran her chubby hands through his hair. "You need to take a shower, greaseball." Timmy sighed and ceased clicking, resting his hand on Vicky's other monstrous thigh. He buried his head in her stomach, closing his eyes. "Don't get smooth, you aren't even old enough," she laughed, and pulled out a small, greasy hair on the back of his head. Timmy yelped, but kept his head in her lap, too warm to leave.

Vicky was just like she was when he was ten, never leaving him be. Difference was that now, sometimes, he didn't want her to. Timmy remembered when he turned twelve and Vicky let him take a nap, and he woke up with her stroking his forehead and humming to herself. When Vicky saw his eyes opened in shock, she merely flicked his brow and started stroking over the red mark she left.

'What're you doing!' he yelped, suddenly kicking back to his wall. Vicky huffed. 'Fine.' she had said, and left the room. Timmy had found her downstairs, and sat next to her on the same couch, letting her stroke his forehead that time.

It had continued, day after day, and was never purely tender. Day after day Vicky made a point of smacking him, punching him, calling him names, ordering him around, and pulling on his hair and now his earrings to keep him miserable. So long as she would let him lay on her lap, Timmy would let her do whatever she wanted. He didn't even mind that Cosmo and Wanda objected to it. ("She's the enemy!")

"Get up." Timmy got up. "I'm leaving early, I've got a date," she said, and he didn't believe her. Vicky always gave him this kind of crap, but he never had the heart to tell her that she was just to fat and waxy to get a date these days. He loved her too much. Vicky slammed the door, the same way she came in, and Timmy helped himself to the entire couch, reveling in the warm spot that Vicky left him.

--

It was late now...Eleven thirty. His parents pulled in to the driveway, carrying bags of groceries, while Timmy watched them from his window. Cosmo and Wanda poofed to the bedside. "Timmy..." Cosmo watched him shut his eyes. "Go to sleep, pumpkin, we'll be here in the morning," Wanda cooed and kissed his forehead. 'They don't get older, like I do,' Timmy thought, while drifting away, 'why can't I stay the same way forever too?'

–Saturday–

"Hey AJ!" Timmy yells out the window at his friend. Chester is following him, beaming yellowish (but perfectly aligned) teeth. "Timmy, come on, aren't you going to Trixie's today?" AJ called to the window. "Yeah, she actually invited you to her house..." Chester sighed. Timmy had forgotten all about it.

At school, when he started to first fall in love with Vicky, Timmy's fantasies about Trixie had slowly decayed and died. Everybody noticed how Timmy ignored it when Trixie would flip her shimmering black hair, and Trixie noticed that he was no longer advancing. It was one less admirer, and she immediately blamed Veronica, who had actually transferred schools, and nobody noticed.

Trixie had actually flipped the tables around and began asking Timmy out, who usually said 'yes' so suspicion wouldn't form that he was gay or something, but always forgot their dates (whether purposely or not). Why he didn't just go, Timmy himself didn't know. It wasn't like Vicky expected him to be 'loyal' or anything. It was just...he just wanted to be.

"Alright then. Let's go," Timmy came out of his house dressed like a slob, camo pants, black t-shirt, and his...backpack...He did have a new pair of shoes on, though. An added detail as forced on him by Wanda, who would rather he went out with Trixie than Vicky anyday. "Oh yeah," Timmy smacked his forehead, "I'm going over to her house, right? That big rich old mansion?"

Nods from Chester and AJ, too shocked at his apparel to speak. Maybe he'll go change.

Timmy did change...out of his black shoes. He pulled tennishoes out of his backpack, the year-old ones that had holes in them and were too big when he first got them. "Right, let's go!" he cheerfully said, and made a point of maximizing his usual slouch. His friends stood, petrified. "What? Didn't you want to take me to Trixie's?" Timmy challenged. Chester wasn't so sure anymore. AJ knew this was a trick. "Yeah. Yeah, we are. Come on Chester," he said, and hopped into a van.

While they piled in, AJ started the thing, and sped out, leaving marks. If Timmy wanted to be an idiot, fine. If he insisted on letting people call him a queer, fine. But he and Chester were getting part of the insult wave. Both were already well aware that Timmy had something going on with another girl, but they didn't want any business with his social standing, which was still low.

Chester was told by AJ earlier that if they could just get Timmy seen by Vicky, who was so infatuated with him by now that she couldn't give a damn about how unpopular he was, they would be in the clear. Chester kissed his cheek and called him 'brilliant', which was true. Then they went for a ride in AJ's 'van' ("technically it's not a van, I made it with parts of go-karts, so we're legal") to the peak, where they made out and talked about a future that didn't judge.

"What do you guys care so much if I don't want to go out with Trixie?" Timmy asked, chewing his nails in the backseat and spitting them out next to him. AJ hated that. "You know why," he mumbled, while putting on the turning signal and studying Chester, who was totally unphased by all of this, staring out the window. "Who cares if they call you queer. It's true."

AJ slammed on the brakes. No cars were coming anyway. Chester glanced behind himself at Timmy, then went back to the window. AJ glared and shook a finger at him. "We've talked about this a million times, you know damn well that I care, even if Chester doesn't. Besides," he noted while turning around to drive, "if my parents hear that, I'm not sure what they'll do."

Chester knew that his own dad wouldn't care, but AJ's parents...He had invited him to stay with him if that ever happened. AJ only smiled and said that it wouldn't happen. "That's cruel, Timmy," Chester said quietly. Timmy's face went red with shame. It was cruel, but so was dragging him to Trixie. "I don't want to go out with her." He said with finality.

AJ pulled up to Trixie's...mansion, to the sight of Trixie in a bathing suit, sunbathing back-up in the front yard. Her headphones were on or something because she didn't hear them pull up. "Who couldn't want that?" AJ asked Timmy. Chester frowned. Her swimsuit did not go with her skintone. AJ nudged him. "Smile, dumbass," he mouthed.

Although Timmy had to admit to himself that Trixie in a skimpy suit, waiting for him, willing to go out with him and probably other things did turn him on, but thinking of Vicky discouraged him. He stubbornly crossed his arms in the back seat. AJ gave up and sighed. "Fine. Fine. We'll go," he huffed, while pulling out. Vicky heard this time. "TIMMY!" she cried from her position, twisting around to see the van and AJ sitting in front, "You came this time!" Timmy paled. Trixie looked so hopeful, so desperate.

AJ continued driving out, while Timmy looked away from Trixie, who hesitate while running over to them, hand stuck in the air. The windows rolled up. 'Timmy?' Trixie's mouth went, while they drove off. He couldn't bring himself to look out the back window at her. "Happy?" AJ asked. Chester stared out the window. "I can't believe you did that," he said, whether to Timmy or AJ, nobody was sure. And nobody asked.

--

Well, it ended up with Timmy being brought home, parents waiting for him with his lunch, and Tootie waving from inside the house. He realized that there was no escape from the girls now. AJ dropped him off, speeding away before Timmy was even fully out of the van, leaving the door open. Mom asked what that was all about. Nothing. He grabbed a sandwich from Dad, who had a tray of them, and a glass of milk from Mom, who frowned.

Tootie followed him up to his room. Timmy slammed the door on her. She talked to him through the wood. "My sister's moving to an apartment in New York for college, finally! No more Vicky!" Tootie laughed. Timmy didn't hear her through the soundproof barrier he wished up. "What happened?" Cosmo asked when Timmy flopped on the carpet of his room, and was poofed a PS2 by Wanda.

"Bad day. Trixie. Don't want to talk about it." Timmy said. Wanda frowned and shrugged. "She's like you used to be toward her, remember?" Cosmo said. Timmy shrugged. "Who cares. HALFWAY THROUGH LEVEL ONE!" he cried.

Timmy's parents looked up at the dining room ceiling. "Goodbye, Mister and Mrs. Turner. Timmy doesn't want to talk...again..." Tootie sighed, and left the house, alone. "This has gone far enough! I don't care if Timmy is going through a phase, it's only polite to walk a girl out when she leaves the house!" Mom proclaimed, "And what is he doing that has a 'level one' to it? I never got him any of those video games!"

Dad watched her powerfully march up the stairs. 'Is she going through her 'womyn' thing again?' he thought to himself. He heard her pound on Timmy's door. "OPEN THE DOOR THIS SECOND!" Mom yelled, while nothing happened. Five minutes of silence later and she weakly dragged herself downstairs, defeated.

"I'll deal with him later," she said while sitting down to her salad lunch.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

note from Max Radio: I have a story a lot like this on fictionpress. It's 'Max Radio' there too, so look that up. Thanks to ClassicRockLover for listening to me about this!