AN: This chapter contains somewhat explicit, non-consensual sex. If this disturbs you, you have been warned, do not read further.

Disclaimer: I am quite certain Butch Hartman would not like it if I owned Fairly Oddparents.

Chapter 7: The Date From Hell

Il Maestro, the place. It was the spiffiest place in Dimmesdale, and Vicky and The Other stepped out of the black limo he'd rented onto the concrete walkway. Green shrubs were softly lit by hidden yellow lamps and they covered the corners. Vines scaled the walls, hugging them. The door was dark green, adorned with a golden doorknob.

Vicky had her hair in a bun, a gold frog clasp holding it up. She wore a strapless, light orange dress which went down to her knees, carried a small orange purse, and donned black boots which ended about mid-calf.

The Other wore a black suit and his hair was split down the center. He had on black gloves, something Vicky should have found suspicious, had she noticed them for more than a second. Another thing she should have found suspicious was a black handkerchief, wet with chloroform, sticking out of his front left pocket. However, he didn't exude danger and Vicky was too enthralled with the actual experience to notice much.

He held the door open for her, the model of a perfect gentleman. Through out the rest of the night, he continued to act the part, despite Vicky's screaming matches and his own disdain for a "pushover" act. This figured into his perfect plan, and what he hoped to accomplish tonight.

Vicky, disused to such lavish drinks, didn't even notice that her drink had been replaced with 100 proof alcohol, some pretty potent stuff. She grew drunker as the hour grew later, finally at a point where The Other grew sick of her and decided the formal part of the date was over. The first part of the night's goal accomplished, Vicky was in no position to fight Timmy's goldfish, much less an entirely sober, driven man.

Paying the bill with stolen funds (much like the limo and tux); they left through the back, into a dim, dirty, cluttered alleyway. A high wall was on their right, three dented garbage cans in front. To their left was a maze of cardboard boxes and dumpsters, impossible to maneuver in an inebriated state. He walked all over Dimmesdale, particularly looking for a restaurant that leaded out to such a bleak place.

Vicky threw up in one of the garbage cans and stumbled, her knees weak. Her vision doubled and she had no energy left as he pinned her against the wall, his hands on her shoulders. She blinked up at him, confused and angry. No one could do this crap to her and get away with it.

The Other's right hand caressed her cheek while his left ripped off her dress. His eyes were a cold blue and he felt nothing as he took in her pitiful frame. It had to be someone close to Timmy, but must it be with someone so puny in the chest?

He grinned maliciously.

"We can do this the hard way, or, you could just let me have your energy. What do you say?"

His left hand moved from her face to the gun on his belt. One finger lovingly stroked the trigger. He would if he had to (hence the gloves).

Vicky whimpered, but The Other only become more encouraged. His hardness was almost painful as he ripped off her panties and unbuckled his own pants.

Something inside Vicky, despite the dense fog which currently descended over her, kicked in and she began to struggle, her arms circling wildly. Although she didn't hit him, her whole body shook, becoming difficult to pin down.

The gun was pressed to her temple and she slowly stopped, her eyes wide and terrified. Breaths came in gasps as he tried to make sense of the situation. He had been so debonair…

Forcing her legs open, he eased himself inside her, sliding in and out. The more she struggled, trying her best to hit him in the balls, the more power he drew from her. He could feel the power growing exponentially until…

In an explosion of energy, Vicky's defenses finally crumbled and The Other could feel her raw hatred and anger filling his being. Every cell was alive and humming as he withdrew himself from her bloody feminity.

Vicky collapsed, barely conscious and blissfully unaware of what happened. Not wanting to take any chances, The Other pressed the rag to her mouth and transported himself home, where he dropped her on the couch, not changing her appearance in the slightest. He added a finishing spell to keep from leaving and transported up to bed. She was Cosmo and Wanda's problem now.