Fairly Odd Parents Porn Story: A great day
“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?