Timmy Turner lounged on his bed, tossing a foam ball against the wall and catching it absentmindedly. His room, a kaleidoscope of messy chaos, felt quieter than usual without the buzzing presence of Cosmo and Wanda.
"I can totally handle this," Timmy muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Just a night without the fairies. No big deal. What could possibly go wrong?"
As if on cue, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hall. His bedroom door flew open, revealing his parents, both dressed like they were late for something important.
"Timmy!" his mom chirped in her usual singsong tone. "Great news! Your dad and I have been invited to a last-minute sock-folding contest!"
"It's invite-only!" his dad added, proudly holding up a pair of mismatched socks.
Timmy sat up. "Uh, okay? And...what about me?"
"Oh, don't worry, sweetie!" his mom said, patting him on the head. "We got you a babysitter."
Timmy froze. His heart sank like a cartoon anvil. "Wait, what? I don't need a babysitter!"
"Oh, nonsense!" his dad chuckled, ruffling Timmy's hair. "You're not old enough to stay home alone. And luckily, we found someone on such short notice."
Timmy's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Who did you find?"
Before either parent could answer, a sharp, sinister voice rang out from behind them.
"Oh, Timmy!"
Timmy's stomach twisted into knots as Vicky, his evil babysitter, strolled into the room. She wore her signature smug grin, her hands on her hips.
"You've gotta be kidding me," Timmy groaned.
"Now, now, Vicky was kind enough to cancel her date with a meatloaf to watch you!" his mom said cheerfully.
"Yeah," Vicky sneered, leaning down to Timmy's eye level. "You're lucky to have me, twerp."
"Anyway, we'll be back late tonight!" his dad said, already halfway out the door.
"Be good, Timmy!" his mom called as they disappeared down the hall.
The front door slammed shut, leaving Timmy alone with the babysitter of doom. He gulped.
"Oh, don't worry, Timmy," Vicky cooed, cracking her knuckles. "We're gonna have so much fun."
Timmy groaned and flopped back on his bed. "Why did I think I could handle this without Cosmo and Wanda?"
Timmy knelt on the cold bathroom tile, scrubbing furiously at the floor with a toothbrush. His expression was a mixture of exhaustion and frustration, his arms aching from Vicky's unreasonable demands.
"Come on, shrimp!" Vicky barked from the doorway, lounging against the frame with a soda in one hand and her phone in the other. "I want this bathroom so clean I can see my beautiful reflection in the toilet bowl!"
Timmy gritted his teeth and muttered under his breath. "Beautiful reflection? More like evil hag in high definition."
"What was that, twerp?" Vicky snapped, narrowing her eyes.
"Nothing!" Timmy replied quickly, flashing an insincere grin.
Vicky sneered and went back to scrolling on her phone. "That's what I thought. Now hurry up, or I'll make you clean the kitchen floor with your toothbrush!"
As she laughed cruelly, Timmy's mind began to race. He was stuck without Cosmo and Wanda, but that didn't mean he couldn't fight back on his own. If she wanted to make his night miserable, he'd just have to return the favor.
His eyes darted around the bathroom, scanning for anything he could use to pull off a prank. A mischievous grin crept across his face when his gaze landed on a nearby bottle of shampoo.
"Time for Operation Slippery Revenge," he muttered under his breath.
"Hey, Vicky!" Timmy called, standing up and stretching exaggeratedly. "I'm, uh, done with the floor!"
Vicky rolled her eyes and stomped over to inspect his work. "Took you long enough, dork," she grumbled, leaning down to scrutinize the tiles.
As she did, Timmy casually reached for the shampoo bottle behind her and squeezed a generous puddle of the slippery liquid onto the tile just a few feet away. He quickly rubbed it in with his foot, blending it with the floor's sheen.
"Alright, I'm heading to the living room!" Timmy declared, backing away.
"Huh? You're not done yet!" Vicky snapped, standing up straight.
"I just remembered the kitchen floor!" Timmy said, pretending to sound panicked. "You said I had to clean it, right? With my toothbrush?"
Vicky smirked, her hands on her hips. "That's right, so get to—"
She stepped forward confidently and immediately lost her footing.
"AAAAH!" she shrieked as her feet flew out from under her. She landed on her backside with a loud THUD, sliding across the slippery tiles. Her phone clattered to the floor and spun into the corner.
Timmy stifled a laugh as Vicky sat there, stunned and furious, her hair sticking to her face.
"YOU LITTLE—" she bellowed, scrambling to get up, but the floor betrayed her again, and she slipped right back down.
Timmy leaned against the doorway, biting back laughter. "Oh no, Vicky! Be careful, the floor's really slippery when it's... clean."
"You're gonna PAY for this, Turner!" she screamed, flailing like a beached whale.
"Totally worth it," Timmy whispered to himself before bolting down the hall, leaving Vicky to her slippery misfortune.
Timmy leaned against the kitchen counter, catching his breath after escaping Vicky's wrath in the bathroom. He chuckled to himself, proud of how perfectly his slippery prank had gone.
"Man, that was too easy," he muttered, grabbing a bag of chips from the counter. "Maybe I don't need Cosmo and Wanda to survive this after all."
He reached for the remote to the tiny kitchen TV, settling into a chair and popping a chip into his mouth. Just as he started to relax, he heard the faintest creak of a floorboard behind him.
Before he could turn around, two hands grabbed his shoulders.
"Gotcha, twerp!"
"AHH!" Timmy yelped, dropping the chips as Vicky spun him around. Her face was a mixture of anger and pure, evil glee.
"Y-you're still mad about the bathroom, huh?" Timmy stammered, his voice shaky.
"Oh, mad doesn't even begin to cover it," Vicky said, her grin stretching unnaturally wide. "But you know what, Timmy? I'm inspired."
Timmy gulped. "I don't like the sound of that."
Vicky reached behind her back and, with a dramatic flourish, pulled out a coil of thick rope. She held it up triumphantly, her laughter echoing through the kitchen like a villain in a bad soap opera.
"What...what's the rope for?" Timmy asked nervously, his eyes darting between Vicky and the door.
"Oh, you'll find out," Vicky purred, leaning down to Timmy's level. "You see, I've been thinking: I'm your babysitter, right? But I've never actually done the 'sitting' part before. Tonight, that changes!"
Timmy's face turned pale as the implications sunk in. "Wait, wait, let's not get hasty here!"
But before he could make a run for it, Vicky grabbed his arm and yanked him toward a kitchen chair. She spun him around and plopped him down with an audible thud.
"Vicky, come on!" Timmy pleaded, squirming in the chair. "You're not actually gonna—"
"Oh, I am," she interrupted, unraveling the rope with a dramatic flair. "Because nobody pranks Vicky the Babysitter and gets away with it!"
Timmy struggled, trying to wiggle free, but Vicky's grip was too strong. "This is totally against babysitter rules!" he protested.
Vicky paused, tapping her chin mockingly. "Babysitter rules, huh? Let's see…" She snorted. "Nope, don't see anything about tying up brats who mess with me!"
Timmy's eyes darted around the kitchen, desperate for an escape plan. "Uh, uh, wait! You're supposed to be nice to me! Remember? My parents trust you!"
Vicky laughed so hard she nearly dropped the rope. "Trust me? Oh, Turner, that's cute. But your parents are gone for hours, and that means..." She loomed over him, the shadows of the kitchen lights making her look even more menacing. "...I can do whatever I want!"
Then withouth batting an eye, the evil babysitter grabbed him by the head, turned around and then shoved his face into her ample backside before letting out a thunderous fart directly onto his face without any hesitation or remorse whatsoever!
BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP*
Timmy couldn't believe what was happening; it was beyond any form of punishment or humiliation he could have ever imagined coming from Vicky! The sheer horror of it rendered him speechless. His eyes watered and his nose burned from the stench. Vicky cackled with delight, enjoying Timmy's discomfort.
"hMMMM~That felt sharp, Did you like that, twerp?" She taunted, pulling him up by his hair. "Well too bad, because it's only gonna get worse from here on out!"
"Y-Your crazy" Timmy coughed.
"Crazy? Oooh Twerp…I havent even started it. You better get used to it because now its time for you to your chores"
With a evil laugh Vicky then proceeds to casualy tie Timmy down around her bootylicious ass, clad in her black tight fitting pants, his face deeply buried in her butt so that he is trapled.
Timmy's eyes bugged out of his head as he found himself completely at Vicky's mercy, his nose buried in her butt crack. He struggled against the ropes, but to no avail. Vicky just stood there, a sadistic grin on her face, enjoying the sight of him trapped and humiliated.
"You should be honored that your basically trapped on my ass now Twerp, but hey guess what? Time to do your homework but ups! You cant move right? Looks like I am going to have to fix that for you, though dont blame me if I awnser them all wrong hahahaha!"
Timmy's frustration continued to build as once Vicky was inside his room she pulled out his homework and began answering the questions, laughing manically with each incorrect response. As Vicky continued her sadistic torment, Timmy's mind reeled with a mixture of fear and embarrassment. His nose was now soaked in the sweat of her buttocks, and he could barely breathe due to the weight of her ass smushing him.
Vicky picked up another assignment, a math problem Timmy had been struggling with for weeks. She laughed manically as she wrote down her responses, each one further inciting Timmy's frustration. Despite her ignorance of the subject matter, Vicky reveled in the power trip, delighting in the misery she was causing him.
'I cant believe she is doing this, it might be the worst thing yet'
"Geez homework sucks, you get this for school?" She laughs before her stomach gurgles, about to let out another bomb.
Timmy's eyes widened as the sound of Vicky's gurgling stomach echoed through the room. He had heard rumors about her digestive issues, but he never thought he would be forced to endure it firsthand.
"Oohhh fuck here it comes, smell it twerp!"
PPPPPPPPPPPPPPBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRBRBRBRBFFFPFFPBRBSHSHBPBPBPSHHHHHHHHHHHHBPBPRPPRPR*
Suddenly, the smell of fermented vegetables and spices filled the air, making his nose wrinkle in disgust. Timmy's eyes watered, unable to hold back the tears as he struggled to breathe through the stench. He tried to twist his head away from Vicky's buttocks, but the ropes held him captive. Desperation clawed at his heart, and he began to panic.
Vicky chuckled, her eyes glinting with mischief as she saw the look of terror in Timmy's eyes. "Want a hint, Twerp? Next time, don't pull pranks on your babysitter." She lowered her voice, making it sound like she was imparting some sort of wisdom. "It might come back to bite you in the ass... Literally."
Timmy wheezed, hoping against hope that this nightmare would end soon. But Vicky showed no sign of letting up, her wicked grin still plastered on her face, she was really getting some twist pleasure from this.
"Turning you into my fart cushion is fun, but maybe is time to have some tv"
Vicky walked from the kitchen and onto the living room, before she plop herself onto the couch without giving two shits about the fact she ha Timmy trappedu nder her phat evil booty, instead she had a triumphant smirk still etched across her face. The TV flickered to life, the volume cranked high enough to make his ears ring.
"Oh, look!" she crowed, settling in with mock excitement. "Your favorite show, Sappy Love Stories From Outer Space! Oh, I bet you're thrilled, Twerp."
Timmy groaned. He hated that show the mushy dialogue, the over-the-top romance it made his stomach churn almost as much as his babysitter's twisted sense of humor and how heavy her booty was, like seriously! She should go on a diet with how fat this thing was.
Vicky stretched out, propping her feet up on the coffee table as she eyed the casserole dish his parents had lovingly left for him. "Bean casserole, huh?" She mused, popping off the lid and inhaling deeply. "Smells divine. Too bad I'm starving."
"Wait! That's mine!" Timmy protested, but his weak plea was drowned out by the obnoxious laugh track from the TV and the rumbling of Vicky's fork scraping against the dish.
One bite turned into another, and soon the casserole was gone every last crumb devoured. Vicky leaned back, patting her stomach with a satisfied sigh. "Ahhh, nothing like home cooking," She said, shooting Timmy a knowing glance. "I might regret this later... but you're the one who's really gonna suffer."
Timmy's eyes widened in horror as realization dawned. The casserole's reputation preceded as it was a recipe infamous in his house for its...aftereffects thanks to the ingredients.
As the cheesy, romantic show continued blaring, Vicky lounged smugly, making exaggerated comments about the cringey dialogue and how "Timmy must just love this part." The room's air grew heavier, and Timmy cringed as the first signs of the bean casserole's revenge made themselves known.
PSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH*
"uUUUGGH!~"
"Oops," Vicky teased, fanning herself dramatically. "Guess i allowed a silent one escape, I bet you love those, they are silent, deadly and warm" She cackled, relishing in Timmy's misery as he was forced to endure both the torture of the TV show and the increasingly unpleasant atmosphere of the room.
"You better hold your nose, Twerp," She added with a smirk, her eyes glinting wickedly. "Oh wait! You cant! Hahahaha this is gonna be a long night."
Timmy's face was scrunched in a mix of disgust and despair as Vicky leaned back into the couch, laughing at her own private joke. The room was starting to feel oppressive, and not just because of the cringe-worthy dialogue pouring out of the TV speakers.
Vicky stretched lazily, her hand resting on her bloated stomach. "Ugh, I don't know what's worse," she said, wrinkling her nose mockingly, "This garbage show or my farts. Honestly, it's a close call!"
She let out a loud, boisterous fart that rattled the couch cushions, sending Timmy recoiling in horror. The sound echoed through the room like an unholy trumpet, followed by a smell that made him gag.
BBBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPBBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHH*
"Ohhh, that one was a classic! Loud as fuck too hehehe" Vicky crowed, fanning the air toward him.
"Why don't you just open a window?"Hhe pleaded, his voice muffled by her cheeks of doom.
Vicky raised an eyebrow. "And ruin the ambiance? Nah. This is your quality time with me, Twerp. So sit back, relax, and enjoy the show~Both of them!"
BRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPPPPPPPPPPPPPAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPP*
As another explosive noise erupted from the couch, Timmy groaned, wishing more than ever that his parents would come home early. Vicky, on the other hand, cackled with glee, her eyes glued to the TV as she reveled in both the terrible programming and her wicked domination of the room.
"You know what?" She added with a smirk, her tone dripping with fake concern. "At least this casserole didn't go to waste. Shame you missed out, though. It's really a gift that keeps on giving!"
Timmy could only grimace as the cycle continued, the stinky nightmare showing no signs of ending. As the clock struck Timmy's bedtime, he sighed in relief. The torment was nearly over or so he thought.
Vicky glanced at the time and smirked. "Alright, Twerp, bedtime for you. But don't worry," She said, her voice dripping with faux sweetness, "I've been saving the best for last."
Timmy's eyes widened in alarm. "W-What do you mean?" he stammered, inching away from her.
Ignoring his question, Vicky strolled to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Her grin widened as she pulled out a gallon of milk. "You know what they say," She began, unscrewing the cap with an exaggerated flourish, "A glass of milk before bed helps you sleep like a baby." She paused, then added with a mischievous glint in her eye, "Too bad for you, though... milk also gives me the worst case of gas."
Timmy's stomach dropped. "No. No way. You wouldn't!"
"Oh, I would," Vicky shot back, raising the gallon in a mock toast before chugging it straight from the container. She gulped it down with gusto, pausing only to let out a satisfied ahhh. By the time she finished, the milk jug was empty, and Timmy was staring in horror at her bloated stomach.
She gave it a pat, grinning wickedly. "All set. Now, let's tuck you in, Twerp."
Vicky though did not undo the rope around her ass to let him go free, she marched upstairs to his bedroom. With a dramatic flourish, she threw back the covers and plopped herself onto the mattress. "There we go. Such a snug and cozy bed" she said, her voice mockingly sweet.
Timmy looked nervous "W-What are you gonna do now?"
"Me? Oh, I'm just gonna be here for a bit...and let nature take its course."
Before Timmy could respond, she turned off the light. The faint sound of gurgling could already be heard from her stomach getting louder and louder, and she chuckled softly.
"Sweet dreams, Twerp," She said ominously.
Timmy groaned, as he feels her hand bash against him burying his face in her pillowy cheeks, wishing desperately for sleep to claim him before Vicky's final act began.
"You know," She said, her voice tinged with mock thoughtfulness, "There's nothing like feeling cozy at bedtime. And since I'm such a great babysitter, I think I'll make sure you're extra warm tonight"
Before Timmy could protest, Vicky grabbed the edges of the blanket and yanked it up over both of them, wrapping the two of them tightly in the sheets like a human burrito. Timmy squirmed, but it was no use he was trapped, double trapped in fact, with only her own head away and safe from what was about to happen.
"Welcome to the Dutch oven, Twerp," She teased, her voice muffled by the layers of fabric.
Then, it began.
The first fart was loud and boisterous, reverberating through the bed like a mini explosion. Timmy gagged, the stench hitting him immediately, like something just died in her pants.
BROOOOOOOAAAAAAPPPPPPPRRRRRRAAAAABBBBBRRBRBRBSSPPPPBREEEEPPPPPPPBRIIIIPPP*
"Whew!" Vicky exclaimed, laughing. "That milk's really doing its job!"
PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBPRAAAAAAPPPPPRRAAAPPRPRPRPEBBGGPRBRBRBRB*
Another fart followed, this one drawn-out and ominous, like a distant foghorn. Timmy's eyes watered as he desperately tried to claw his way out of the sheet prison, but Vicky held him firmly in place.
"Oh no, no, no, Twerp," she said with mock seriousness. "You're not going anywhere. We're bonding!"
As the room filled with her laughter and the increasingly noxious smell, Timmy's resistance weakened. The heat under the covers grew stifling, and the air was so foul it felt like it had a weight of its own.
BWWWWWWAAAAAARRRRRMMMMMMPHHHHH-TTTTHHHHPPPPTTTT!*
Vicky leaned back, reveling in the chaos she was causing. She bit her lower lip, the sheer satisfaction of her antics sending a thrill through her. Her face glistened with a sheen of sweat, and she felt a strange, twisted joy bubbling inside her.
"Oh, man," she groaned, her voice low and drawn out, "this feels so good. So freaking good!"
Timmy whimpered, trying to inch away, but Vicky held him firm within the tight cocoon of sheets.
"Holy crap!" she exclaimed, clutching her stomach. "I think that milk just turned me into a walking nuke! Like, seriously I could blow the roof off this place!"
Her laughter turned into a moan as her stomach gurgled again, the pressure building. She fanned herself with one hand, her cheeks flushed as if she was caught up in her own game.
"Oh, you have no idea how amazing this feels, Twerp. You're lucky to be here for this is art."
KTHHHBBBBLLLLRPPPPT!*
"Damn, I could kill someone with this!" she shouted, her voice half-laughing, half-moan. "I'm freaking unstoppable!"
The combination of heat, sweat, and overwhelming stench made Timmy feel like he was on the verge of passing out. Vicky, meanwhile, was clearly in her element, basking in the absurdity of her own actions.
"Alright, brace yourself," she teased, her voice dripping with exaggerated drama. "This next one's gonna be the grand finale—the mother of all blasts. I can feel it building!"
Timmy tried to protest, but his voice was drowned out by a final, earth-shaking eruption that left both of them breathless for entirely different reasons.
BWWWWWAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRTTTTT-KA-KA-KA-KOOOOOFFFFTTTTPPPPPLLLLSSHHH!*
The initial blast was a deafening explosion of sound, starting with a low rumble before rising into a chaotic crescendo of sputters and vibrations. The bed shook violently beneath them as if caught in the grip of a natural disaster.
BRRRRAAAAAAAWWWWMMMMPHHHH-KRRRRRRR-THTHTHTHT-PHHHHBBBBLLLRRRMMMMPPPTTT!*
Timmy felt his ears ringing from the sheer volume, his senses overwhelmed by the unholy symphony of thunderous booms and wet, sputtering pops that seemed to echo endlessly under the sheets.
WHHHRRRRRRRPPPP-BLAAARRRPPP-FWWWWWOOOOOOSSSSHHHH!*
The final tail end of the blast roared out like a jet engine before sputtering into a prolonged, high-pitched *PFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTT!* that lingered with a hiss, the sound of an absolute masterpiece in flatulence.
Timmy's eyes watered as the oppressive heat of the trapped air hit him like a brick wall. "I-I can'-" he croaked, his voice weak and trembling, before he finally succumbed to the stench, collapsing into unconsciousness.
Vicky, meanwhile, gasped dramatically and waved the sheets in exaggerated triumph. "Ohhh, man! That was legendary! A freaking nuke! I might've blown a hole in reality with that one!"
With an exaggerated flourish, she threw the sheets off, releasing the noxious cloud trapped beneath. The foul stench billowed into the room, making her wince slightly despite her pride in her work. "Whew!" she exclaimed, fanning herself dramatically. "That is next-level nasty. Even I'm impressed!"
She stood up, brushing herself off, and took a moment to admire her handiwork. Timmy was out cold, sprawled on the bed, his face frozen in an expression of utter defeat.
"Well, Twerp," she said, putting her hands on her hips, "I think I got my message across loud and clear. Maybe next time you'll think twice before messing with me."
She started toward the door, pausing in the doorway as an idea struck her. "Hmm," she mused, tapping her chin. "You know, this was actually kind of fun. Maybe I should try it with my other clients. I mean, why keep all this talent to myself, right?"
Vicky chuckled to herself, giving Timmy's room one last glance before flicking off the light. "Nighty-night, Stink Breath," she said with a wicked grin, shutting the door behind her.
The faint sound of her laughter echoed down the hallway as she made her way back downstairs, leaving Timmy alone in the lingering aftermath of her "lesson"
How she looks: deviantart fartkami / art / Short-Anon-forced-to-sniff-Vicky-s-butt-883596070