Galactic Guzzling, Desperate Dreams by Imouto Kitten Commissioned by Serious Sly It had been a long day at School for Timmy Turner thanks to Mr. Crocker being even more evil than usual and Francis deciding to give the buck toothed boy triple the usual helpings of wedgies, swirlies, and knuckle sandwiches, but there is still a spring in the young boy's step as he disembarks from the bus in front of his house. "Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!" cries the pink hatted child, "I can't wait to get to my bedroom and spend the rest of the day playing the newest Crash Nebula video game!" and indeed, the excited youth doesn't even bother to pause long enough to close the door behind him or greet his mom as he rushes into the house and makes a mad dash up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door behind him as he tosses his bookbag aside, stabs the power button on his game console and plops down in front of the TV, grabbing the controller as he announces to the seemingly empty room, "I wish for a bottomless tub of popcorn and a endless can of soda!" A green notebook floats out of the discarded backpack, followed by a grumpy-looking pink pencil case before the oddly colored school supplies poof into a pair of fairies, Cosmo cheerfully announcing, "Unlimited snacks coming right up!" as he waves his wand and Wanda lets out a long suffering sigh as her godchild starts stuffing his face with popcorn and guzzling fizzy sugar water at an alarming pace between bouts of intense button mashing. Not long into his epic battle to save the galaxy, Timmy's mother comes knocking on his door, "Timmy, are you in there?" "Yeah, Mom!" cries the boy in reply, eyes glued to the screen and only half listening. "A plumber will be here shortly." calls Mrs. Turner through her son's bedroom door, "I don't know what your father was thinking when he built that Turner Titan monstrosity, but ever since I made him put the plumbing back, jets of water have been springing forth from random places all over the house, and I finally got fed up. Anyways, you should use the bathroom before the plumber gets here as there's no telling how long it'll take him to fix the damage your father caused with his hijinks." "Okay, Mom!" cries Timmy, having barely heard a word his mom said as he continues blasting evil aliens with lasers and slicing through robots with beam sabers. As Timmy's mom heads back down stairs, trusting her son to do as told, Wanda makes an attempt to actually get through to the boy as he takes another long draw from his ever refilling can of soda, "Um, sport, don't you think you should actually go to the bathroom before the plumber gets here?" "Nah, it'll be fine." replies the boy, his short attention span almost entirely focused on the game, "Besides-" "Yeah, yeah," Wanda cuts off her godson, "Turner's have bladders of steel," her tone briefly turning nasally in imitation of the boy's well worn excuse before returning to her usual nag and adding, "Need I remind you of the punch bowl? Or the fountain?" Actually pausing his game to give the pinkette an annoyed look, Timmy retorts, "The punch bowl only happened because you and Cosmo were fighting and left me stranded in a Fairy Highschool with no human usable doors, and the fountain was just a fluke!" Before resuming his game. Letting out a huff, Wanda replies, "Well, don't say I didn't warn you." before poofing into her and Cosmo's fishbowl and swimming into the castle as Cosmo stares obliviously at the flashing lights on the television, having heard not a word of either exchange between his godchild and his two mothers. Despite his boasts that he'll be just fine, Timmy is soon crossing his legs as he absentmindedly shovels more popcorn into his mouth, following the salty, thirst-inducing snack with copious amounts of soda from his ever full can as swarm after swarm of alien monstrocities and evil robots fall at the hands of his in-game avatar, the fizzy sugar water working its way through the preteen's puny body at what should be an alarming rate, but which the young boy can't spare the attention to worry about, not even as 6:13 comes and goes, the boy missing his usual evening toilet break and takes to absent mindedly grabbing his crotch whenever the game gives him a breather between ever more relentless hordes of computer-generated enemies. Before Timmy realizes it, hours have passed and it is nearly his bedtime when he hits a spike in the game's difficulty curve, running through all of his accumulated lives, a Game Over screen knocking him out of his emersion in the game. "Aw man, Game Over?!" cries the boy, falling back on his bed as he's taken out of the zone, only for his throbbing tinkle tank to take advantage of this to finally capture the boy's attention, causing Timmy to clamp both hands over his crotch and cry out, "Gotta go!" before jumping to his feet and running for the bathroom. As he makes a dash for the toilet, Timmy fails to watch where he's going and runs right into the denim clad rear of a rather portly man as he crosses the threshold into the bathroom. Fortunately, the man in question is wearing proper overalls this time, so Timmy doesn't get another unwanted view of the grand canyon, but this is clearly the same Italian plumber the buck-toothed boy encountered at the water park on the day of the fountain incident. "A-hello, aren't you that-a boy who peed in-a the-a Town Fountain?" asks the plumber, turning around to see what ran into him, "Sorry, but I'ma still a-working on the-a pipes... Might have-a to come-a back tomorrow." Before Timmy can say a word to this unwelcomed news, his mom comes up the stairs, scolding her son upon seeing him, "Timmy, didn't I tell you to use the toilet before the plumber got here? I know your father filled your head with that nonsense about Turners having bladders of steel, but I thought you would've learned your lesson after the fountain incident." Turning her attention to the plumber, the woman adds, "I hope my son hasn't been bothering you." "No problemo, Mrs. Turner, but as I was a-telling your boy, I might a-need to come back tomorrow." With that, the plumber drops the last of his tools into a toolbox and shuts the lid. "Well, that's fine, then," declares Mrs. Turner as the plumber takes his leave before turning back to her son, "As for you young man," Before his mom can start ranting at him, Timmy pipes up with a lie, forcing his hands to his side, "I don't need to pee, Mom. I was just going to take a bath and brush my teeth before bed and was checking if the plumber was done working." "Well, that's actually quite responsible of you," replies Timmy's mom, buying his story to his partial relief, "But you heard the plumber, the pipes aren't fixed yet, so you'll regrettably have to skip getting cleaned up before bed tonight. Now, off to bed with you, you've got school tomorrow." "Good night, Mom!" calls the preteen as he retreats to his room, relieved that he managed to avoid getting in trouble, but still quite desperate. Poofing out of the fish bowl, Wanda opens her mouth, only to be cut off by Timmy declaring, "I know, I know, I should've gone when my mom told me too, you don't need to rub it in!" before heading to his dresser to change into some pajamas, chanting to himself, "I just need to hold until morning, I just need to hold until morning." the boy nowhere near as confident that he'll manage it as when he had refused to heed his mom's advice that afternoon. Crawling into bed, Timmy wonders how he's going to get any sleep with the unrelenting, torturous throbbing of his terribly taut tinkle tank, tumultuous tides threatening total saturation of his pajamas and mattress, but between the exhaustion of a long day of school and having long expended the excited energy of playing a new game, and crashing from his caffeine high, the boy soon falls into a deep, if fittful sleep. ### As his body tosses and turns, the gallons consumed from the endless can of soda continuing to work their way from his bowels to his kidneys to his bloadted, bursting bladder, Timmy's unconscious mind finds itself sitting in Mr. Crocker's classroom, feeling every bit of the bone-deep desperation wracking his real body as the certifiably evil, hunched backed teacher looms over the puny preteen like an overeager medival judge about to pass sentence upon a convicted criminal. "No," Starts Crocker, savoring his victim, err pupil's despair, "You may not be excused to the bathroom." before in far too chipper a voice, the disgrace to educators everywhere addresses the class, "Now that that insignificant distraction is out of the way, today's science lesson is on fluid dynamics!" With that, Crocker yanks a sheet off of his desk, revealing a overly complicated contraption consisting of countless pipes, pumps, and vessels of all shapes and sizes, a constant cacophony of sloshes, splashes, drips, and trickles issuing from the clear acrylic monstrosity as liquid flows through pipes, spews from nozzles, and streams into open reservoirs... and as if the sight and sound of the device all on it's own wasn't enough torture for the teacher from hell's unfavorite student as the buck-toothed boy squirms in his seat, to add insult to injury, the liquid has a faint, but very distinct, yellow tint. Legs alternating between corkscrew and pretzel configurations, Crocker's voice is reduced to an imitation of the teacher from the Chuckie Black cartoons as Timmy rocks back and forth in his seat, but this is no mercy as crocker's voice shifts from gibberish to water sound effects, and no matter where the desperate boy looks, the clear pipes filled with urine yellow liquid his tormentor is using for demonstrating the lesson seemingly tailored specifically to torment the pink-hatted boy continue to expand and branch out, filling every available cubic inch of the classroom. Timmy is grateful when the bell rings, the boy waddling as he navigates pass the mess of pipes, hoping to avoid giving Crocker any excuse to hold him after class, only for the sloshing boy to break into a run as soon as he's in the hallway, the bathroom his destination. However, Timmy's haste only succeeds in giving him a sore jaw as he runs teeth first into the rock-hard kneecap of Francis blocking the door to the boys' room. "Hey, Turner," greets the bully, "There's a toll to use the bathroom now. You can either fork over five bucks, or accept an atomic wedgie, nooggie, swirly combo platter, but I'd hurry up if I were you as this is a limited time offer." "Why is it a limited time offer?" Asks the buck-toothed boy, hands clamped over his crotch as he shifts from foot-to-foot, shamelessly doing a potty dance, much to the bully's amusement. "Because I dropped cherry bombs in all the toilets and it's only a matter of time before their fuses run out." As if to punctuate his statement, a series of booms is heard from beyond the door he's blocking before he adds unnecessarily, "Sounds like the bombs just went off., Tough titty, Turner, I've already hit up all the other boys' toilets." With that, the giant of a gradeschooler walks off, unconcerned with Timmy's plight, clearly thinking his work there done and quite well at that. Turning towards the door to the girls' room, the pink-skirted stick figure calls out to the desperate boy, and with the desperate demands of his bursting bladder making the poor boy forget any fear of cooties, he takes a step towards the forbidden realm. However, before he can push the doorrrr open, it opens, Trixie Tang exiting the room and looking down with a disgusted expression, "Aren't you that uncouth cretin who desecrated the town fountain? Don't tell me you were planning to sink so low as to sully the ladies' room." At any other time, Timmy might have enjoyed being in a position to look up his crush's skirt, but the boy is too mortified at the moment to lift his gaze from her white, designer boots, and yet, the boy fails to see it coming as the indignant queen bee of Dimmsdale Elementary literally kicks him out of her way, though fortunately, the difference in their heights means the toe of her boot misses his bladder, hitting him in the solar plexus instead and sparing him from wetting himself right then and there. Once he's recovered from the kick, and deciding it's too risky to tempt the girls' room once more, Timmy breaks into a run, dashing down hallway after hallway in search of any potential receptacle into which to empty his waste waters, swearing to himself that the school didn't always have such an extensive labyrinth of corridors and wondering when all the paintings of waves and fountains had been hung on the walls, his piddle pot pounding and pulsing with every step. When Timmy stops to catch his breath, he finds himself standing next to a water fountain, and though the idea of relieving himself where he would normally quench his thirst would gross him out at any other time, the fountin's basin seems to call to him, and with some effort, the short boy manages to climb up to kneel on the rim of the basin, annd looking down the hall in both directions and spotting no one, the boy reaches for his fly, lowers his zipper, and fishes out his small cock. Thinking he's going to finally get some long overdue relief for his bloated, bursting bladder, Timmy points his penis down into the basin, aiming for the drain, but before he can relax enough to open the flood gates, he hears someone shout, "Yo, Timmy!" prompting the buck-toothed boy to hastily zip his fly, nearly pinching his tip in the process as he turns around to discover that it was AJ who spoke, the local boy genius accompanied by Chester. "Man, you weren't about to take a whiz in the water fountain, were you?" Asks the darker skinned boy, "That's not cool, man." "Yeah," interjects Chester, "Me and my dad have to make do with creek water full of fish poop at home, but even I think going in the fountain is gross." "Of course not," lies Timmy, "What would give you an idea like that?" Glancing at a bare wrist as if he were wearing a watch, the pink-hatted boy adds, "Will you look at the time, gotta go!" Before running off, leaving his two best friends behind as he resumes his search for a place to pee. As Timmy resumes his desperate dash through the halls of Dimmsdale Elementary, there seems to be a water fountain around every corner, the fixtures seeming to taunt him for his failed attempt to use one of them as a urinal, the boy sure that another attempt to go in such an exposed place would have the same result. When he stops for another breather, Timmy finds himself outside a boys' bathroom, and while Francis has a twisted sense of honor that would prevent him from lying about sabotaging all of the toilets, never one to exaggerate his prowess as a bully, it occurs to Timmy that the giant of a boy, being all brawn and no brains, probably didn't think to sabotage the sinks as well and that, with the toilets being out of order, there shouldn't be anyone in any of the bathrooms, at least not any of the boys' bathrooms. As such, Timmy barges through the door, ignoring the out of order sign and letting out a sigh of relief when, as hoped, the bathroom is empty. Grabbing a wastebasket, Timmy rushes for the sinks, turning the basket upside down, the boy using it as a foot stool to boost his nethers above the edge of the counter. Once more, he unzips his pants, pulls out his small member, and aims for the sink's drain, and once more, he is interrupted, this time by the bang of the bathroom door hitting the wall. Hasteyly putting himself away, Timmy turns to the sound, finding the school janitor standing there, mop in hand, the disgruntled custodian giving Timmy a disapproving look as he says, "It's bad enough I have to mop up toilet water from all the cherry bombs without some pissy brat forcing me to sanitize the sinks, now get going before I draft you into being my apprentice for the rest of the school year." "Uh, Sorry for getting in your way, Mr. Janitor, I swear I was just washing my hands." claims Timmy as he vacates the bathroom. Resuming his desperate dash through the halls, Timmy isn't really looking where he's going when he nearly runs into another student, starting to apologize, "Sorry, in a hur-" only to stop talking upon realizing who he nearly ran over. "Hi Timmy!" squeaks Tootie, blocking the buck-toothed boy's path as she takes in her crush's frantic shifting from foot-to-foot and the way he has both hands clamped over his crotch. With no tact what so ever, Tootie blurts out, "Oh my gosh, you're bursting for a potty again, aren't you?" "Uh," is all Timmy can muster in response as he tries to back away, only for his stalker with a crush to practically pin him to the wall as she leans in to whisper in his ear. "You know," starts the raven-haired girl in the most suggestive tone she can manage, "I watch the footage I recoreded of you using the town fountain every night while cuddling with my life sized Timmy doll." More than a bit creeped out by the mental image her words place in his head, Timmy tries to push her away and make a break for it, only to pause in his escape as she shouts, "Wait, I can scout out a girls' bathroom and make sure no one sees you entering or leaving!" only for any temptation to accept her offer to evaporate as she adds, "All I ask in return is that I get to hold your penis and help you aim.", the boy dashing off, his face as pink as his hat, the girl yelling, "Gosh darn IT!" as her shrill voice fades into the distance. Having escaped from the younger half of his least favorite pair of sisters in the world, Timmy soon finds himself bursting through the front doors of the school, and looking around, he spots some flower beds. Were he in his right frame of mind, the pink-hatted boy might have realized this was even more exposed than the water fountains inside the building, but the torturous throbbing as torrential tinkle tides threaten total drenching of his pants, the temptation to water the flowers with his personal, liquid fertilizer is too great as he runs over to one of the beds, unzips his fly, pulls out his prick, points it at the dirt between two clumps of flowers, and "What are you doing, young man!?" nearly jumps out of his skin at a shout from the very rotund Principal Waxelplax. Hastily zipping up his pants without relief for what feels like the dozenth time, Timmy quickly turns to face the heavy set woman, hands clenched behind his back as he struggles not to piss himself under the disapproving glare of his school's head honcho as he replies, "Nothing Ma'am, just enjoying the flowers, ma'am." "Well, that better be all you're doing, young man. Because it looked like you were about to repeat what you did to the town fountain to the school flower beds... and the only reason I didn't expel you for your prior disgraceful behavior was because I can't punish my students for what they do when not on school ground and not under the supervision of school faculty... Now, run along, recess will soon be over and you don't want to be tardy for afternoon classes." "Yes, Ma'am, Principal Waxelplax." replies the desperate boy before her words sink in and give him an idea. Running around the exterior of the building to the playground, Timmy is relieved to see his fellow students streaming into the building as recess ends. Waiting until the last student has vacated the playground, Timmy runs onto the deserted refuge from classes and looks around for a minute or so before locking eyes on the sandbox, Timmy's tinkle tormented thoughts rationalizing that, if cats are find using a small, plastic tub of sand to do their business, surely a full-sized sandbox will work for a person. Running over, Timmy kneels next to the sand box, thighs pressed against the wood planks keeping the powdered quartz in place as he once more fishes out his cock, and looking around to ensure he's alone, finally unleashes the deluge, his torrential stream carving a miniature canyon through the sand, the fine, beige-colored particles turning a mustard yellow and clumping together as his piss soaks into the formerly dry, porous material. Timmy kneels next to the sandbox for what feels like hours, drenching the sand with pints, than quarts, then gallons of his waste waters, the canyon carved by his initial stream eroding as his flood turns the miniature desert into a great plain of amber waves of pee. ### However, as Timmy turns the sandbox at school into a giant litter box within his dreams, a very different, but no less wet scene is playing out within his briefs as his real body lies in bed. As his body tossed and turned in time with his dream running, the preteen's prepubescent prick has been tenting his pajama pants and underwear, erect in preparation to carry out its duty to convey the contents of the golden lake contained in the boy's bladder to the outside world, a task it's been begging to carry out for hours, only to be denied. But as dream Timmy finally unleashes his ocean of piss upon the sandbox, the go ahead to open the valves and start pumping crosses over, and without a single care that several layers of fabric are between it and the open air, the young boy's cock is eager to do its job, spraying amber liquid like a firehose all over the inside of Timmy's briefs, quickly saturating the white fabric and staining it yellow, not even slowing down as the once white undergarments are fully soaked and colored, the preteen penis only caring about pumping out all of the pee coming down the pipes from the bladder even as pajamas, sheets, blanket, and mattress join underwear in being thoroughly soaked and stained in piss. When finally done with it's long overdo task, Timmy's cock goes limp, soaked briefs clinging snugly to the boy's immature cock and balls, the boy settling into a more restful sleep, a buck-toothed smile of relief on his face, blissfully unaware of the mess he'll awake to in the morning. ### Timmy sleeps through not only his alarm, but his Mom knocking on his door the next morning, and it is only when the Turner matriarch enters his room, and noticing the condition of her son's bedding, shouts angrily, "Timothy Tiberius Turner!" that the boy jolts awake and notices the cold, clammy feeling of what really happened in the middle of the night. "You told me you went before the plumber came!" Shouts the boy's mother, scolding her son for the bedwetting accident she is certain is due to him failing to follow her directions the day before. "And the plumbing isn't fixed, so you won't be able to take a shower before the school bus arrives." making the boy wonder if his punishment will include being sent to school smelling of pee.