About Crack Bunnies: Occasionally, I get the urge to write things that should probably never be published and certainly don't fit in with my one-shots, hence this collection. There are two types of story which fit here. The first type are the stories in which there are relatively normal pairings but crack-tastic situations, most of these are labelled humour. Then there are the second type, which are crack pairings and for the most part will not be humour. Those are due to me wondering if I can find a plausible way to get strange couples together. If you liked, drop me a review to let me know!

About What What In The Butt: In any fandom, there are Next Generation stories and in any fandom with a strong slash following – like, all of them – the question arises as to how exactly the Next Generation will come about. I'm not a big fan of these usually, but I will sometimes check them out. As with any genre, they range from very entertaining to not so entertaining. I noticed there were some aspects typical to all of the South Park stories and wondered what would happen if I played with them a little. This is the result. Enjoy!

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Disclaimer: None of the characters in any of the following stories are mine. Don't own South Park, don't make any money offa any of this. Written purely for entertainment value, not to be taken seriously.

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It was approaching midnight in the woods surrounding Starks Pond. There were no sounds, no small creatures crawling through the undergrowth, no nocturnal birds prowling in the branches. Usually, there would be some signs of life, but all was silent, frightened off by the presence of pure evil within the woods.

Damien, the Antichrist, son of Satan and all-round mean guy, let out an evil laugh as he stood over his victim, his shirt cast aside and a ceremonial dagger in his hand. His voice rang around the woods, causing the hiding wildlife to slink still further into their burrows.

There was a moments quiet after the echoes died away and then a much more normal voice spoke. "Don't you think you're being overly dramatic?"

Damien looked vaguely embarrassed. "I have to get it right. There's such a thing as image y'know."

Pip Pirrup raised an eyebrow, his slightly amused expression totally at odds with the position he was in; lying on the ground, tied by the wrists to a couple of trees, his naked torso decorated in archaic symbols. "Forget image. My arms have gone to sleep and there's a twig digging into my left cheek."

"Fine then," said Damien huffily. "If you're going to be like that, then maybe we shouldn't bother."

"It was your idea."

"I didn't see you objecting."

"You spent three days trying to stop me objecting!"

"I can't believe all the fuss you're making over a few stretch marks."

"It's not the stretch marks that concern me. It's the agony that's the problem!"

Damien sighed. "We've been through this. You can have a C-section, no agony involved."

"I don't know why you have this sudden urge to reproduce."

"Demonic instinct?"

Actually, Damien had thought it over long and hard before coming to the only logical conclusion, that he had to find a way to get his boyfriend knocked up. It was simple reasoning, he needed a big flashing neon sign that said property of the Antichrist, kindly do not touch or I will rip out your intestines and feast upon them and what was a child if not that? Also, with Pip in the family way he would forever more be totally and utterly dependent on Damien and could never ever leave him. The perfect plan.

Not that Damien was insecure, because insecurity was such a useless human emotion. He was just – cautious. Yeah. And he wasn't worried about Pip leaving, because he certainly wasn't in love. He could have a whole harem if he wanted, he just didn't have the energy. That was it.

Pip on the other hand, had been on the receiving end of many a concerned talk about Damien's bad influence, his no-good family and his habit of setting things on fire, which had only made him more determined to remain with the Antichrist forever. Like many a teenager before him, having a baby seemed like a pretty good way of declaring their love to a world that disapproved of them. Although tied to a couple of trees in the middle of the woods, freezing his nipples off and watching Damien try to make sense of the books on the subject he had stolen from his father, he was beginning to wonder if they should just elope instead.

"I think I've got it," said Damien, frowning over a diagram and turning the book around to get a better look. "We do the ritual now, and then we have to come back in a week to complete it."

"Why?"

"Because! This is like, a preparatory thing. You can't just rush these things. You've got to be ready. There are certain, uh, changes that you have to go through."

"If I hear the words 'ovaries' or 'period' at any point, I swear I'm leaving."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. Nothing like that."

Damien put the book aside and cleared his throat, ready with the incantation. He paused theatrically, spreading his arms wide. Pip frowned. He was suddenly sure he could hear something. A scratching noise, coming from – underground?

"DOMINUS RECTIMUS EMPREGGIUS MANNERIVUS SEAHORSIUS!"

"Whoa-ooo!"

"Did you hear that?"

"BABIUS BUTTIUS CARRIUS IMPROBABLUS!"

"Uh, I think I hear singing..."

"...digging ze grave, I 'ave eet made, let..."

"Damien!"

"CANNOTIUS THINKUS MORIUS LATINUS!"

"DAMIEN!"

A violent wind struck up as the demonic spell took hold. Ignoring Pip's protestations, Damien grinned maniacally, preparing to give the last words of the incantation.

"IMMEDIUTUS WOMBIUS QUICKENIUS..."

A hole suddenly appeared in the ground beside Pip and a head poked out.

"IMMEDIUTUS – What the fuckius?"

Forgetting he was half-way through a satanic ritual, Damien glared at the intruder, who was taking in the scene in the woods, looking both amused and worried.

"Uh, 'ave I disturbed something?"

There was a sudden explosion of light as the wind whipped into a frenzy. A pillar of pure energy shot from the ground, bathing the entire area around Starks Pond in an eerie light.

"Yeah, you could say that!" Damien yelled over the noise.

Pulling himself out of the hole, the Mole took out a cigarette and lit it. "Well, 'ow was I to know you would be 'ere, playing some weird kinky sex game?"

"It's not a game! I'm trying to get Pip pregnant here!"

"...I think I must 'ave missed zat day in biology."

"At least the light's fading," said Pip optimistically. "See?"

Sure enough, the blinding flash had dimmed so there was barely any sign it had been there at all. As they watched, it faded and died altogether.

"Just as well," growled Damien. "If this is fucked up because of you Mole, I swear I'll turn your shovel into a guard dog."

The Mole scowled, but wisely refrained from commenting.

"Uh, can you untie me now Damien?" asked Pip hopefully.

"Yeah," muttered Damien, feeling quite put out by the whole thing. He was willing to bet that other teenagers getting pregnant in the woods didn't have people crashing in on them.

"I shall leave you to it," muttered the Mole, rubbing his forehead. "I 'ave 'ad enough of tunnelling for one night. I feel a little – strange."

Nodding, Damien knelt to untie Pip's bonds. Come to think of it, he felt odd himself. Not ill exactly, he never got sick, but – different. Not quite himself.

"How you doing there Pip?" he asked solicitously, remembering that this man was going to bear his child and as such, needed to be treated like an invalid.

"Much better now I've shifted position!" chirped Pip happily.

~:~

Gregory awoke the next morning in an extremely good mood. Christophe had returned home at about one in the morning feeling amorous and refused to take Gregory's feeble excuses about working for an answer. He'd woken briefly when Christophe got out of bed, then fallen promptly back to sleep and was taking a few moments to luxuriate in laziness. He could smell fresh coffee and something cooking.

Allowing this last observation to permeate his brain, he suddenly sat bolt upright. Christophe never got up before him and he never cooked. Something was amiss.

Jumping out of bed, he grabbed a pair of boxers and wandered into the kitchen to find Christophe humming under his breath, busying himself at the cooker with a spatula. There were bags of shopping dumped on the kitchen table, not just from the corner shop either, Gregory noticed.

"What are you doing?"

Christophe turned and waved the spatula. "Making breakfast, what does it look like?"

Gregory narrowed his eyes. "Did you take a hit of nerve gas last night? Because you're supposed to tell me if you do."

"Non, it was uneventful."

"You're not smoking."

"I'm quitting. It's bad for us. Sit, I shall get you coffee."

Sitting at the table and wondering if he had taken a wrong turn out of the bedroom and ended up in the Twilight Zone, Gregory began looking through the bags that Christophe had left lying around.

"And 'ow are you zis morning?"

Gregory pulled a box out of one of the bags and brandished it. "Why exactly have you bought 'My First Shovel'?"

"Um..."

"And what's this? 'Li'l Mercenaries Big Book of Bombs'? Oh, it's pop-up. Very graphic. Makes the guts come right off the page."

"Zat is the point of pop-up books."

"Why?"

"It was my favourite as a boy!"

"No, I mean – why?"

Christophe sighed, sitting in the seat opposite Gregory. "I 'ave to talk to you about something important. Ze thing is – I want a child."

"Uh-huh." Gregory struggled to keep his voice neutral. "Oh. Well. Oh. I suppose I can't compete with that. I hope this won't change our working relationship of course..."

"Huh? Non, zat isn't what I'm saying!" Christophe reached across the table and took Gregory's hand. Gregory frowned at the uncharacteristic behaviour. "I'm saying zat I want to 'ave your child."

Gregory was quite sure he heard a pop as parts of his brain fizzled and died. Once he had regained his ability to speak, he tried to form some kind of coherent sentence. "Um, Christophe – I really don't believe I'm about to have this conversation with someone over eighteen. The thing is, and I would have assumed you already knew this, you're not really, uh, able to have my, uh... or anyone's, uh... it's a basic part of being male. You don't really have the um. Equipment."

"I 'ave it all worked out!" Christophe reached for a cigarette, remembered he'd quit and frowned instead. "Last night, I found Damien and Pip in ze woods and zey were making a baby!"

Gregory closed his eyes and thought longingly of the half-bottle of whiskey he had stashed away. It might have been early, but this surely classified as an emergency.

"You don't 'ave to pull zat face. Zey were performing a ritual zat would make Pip pregnant and I realised, we could get Damien to do ze same to us!"

"Wouldn't that technically make the child Damien's?"

"NON! It would be ours! We can call it Christophe junior!"

"What if it's a girl?" asked Gregory and immediately regretted letting himself get pulled further into the insane conversation.

"Zen we can call it Gregory Junior," said Christophe promptly.

Gregory stood up abruptly and strode into the bedroom, dressing in record time. When he emerged, Christophe was staring at him suspiciously. "What are you doing?"

"I'm doing what any normal bloke does when his partner announces they want a baby," said Gregory, grabbing his coat. "I'm running like hell."

"But..."

"I'll be back sometime after last orders."

"It's ten in ze morning! Ze bar isn't even open!"

"I'll improvise."

"Beetch!"

"Chris." Gregory turned a moment and looked back at the Mole. "Don't you think it's a little odd that Damien was performing rituals in the woods and all of a sudden, you've got all hormonal and girly?"

Christophe shook his head.

"I'm going to find out what he's done to you. And then I'll reverse it. And then, I'll murder him."

Gregory headed out, ignoring Christophe's protestations, deep in thought. The truth was, he had no idea where to find Damien. The image of a hugely pregnant Christophe kept trying to intrude on his brain, making him feel a little ill.

Two hours later, he was beginning to get frustrated. There was no one home at Pip's place. Examining the woods had led to nothing, since he knew nothing at all about satanic rituals and couldn't tell much from what had been left behind by the prospective parents the night before. A quick trip to the church had seen him stock up on a ridiculous amount of holy water, but yielded few clues as to the most painful way to kill the Antichrist. Holy water might be too quick; Gregory was planning to make Damien suffer.

But eventually, the stress got to him. Christophe might be acting like a girl, but Gregory still had the male instinct going strong and it was telling him to get to a pub, pronto.

Once he got to the bar, he was surprised to see Kyle Broflovski in the darkest corner, looking around furtively. Gregory blinked at the sight. Kyle was wearing quite possibly the poorest disguise he'd ever seen, a trench coat and a fedora that made him look like a kid playing private detective.

Grabbing his drink, Gregory headed over to the table and sat. "Hello Kyle."

"GAH!" Kyle looked around nervously. "Were you followed?"

Raising an eyebrow, Gregory shook his head.

"Did you see Stan? Is Stan here? Please tell me Stan's not here!"

"I haven't seen him. Is something wrong?"

Kyle looked mournfully into his drink. "It's – I can't tell you. You'll think he's nuts."

"After the morning I've had, I doubt it."

"It's – I don't know what's gotten into him! He came over to my house this morning and said – ug, I can't tell you!"

Gregory was making the connection and didn't like it one bit. "He said he wanted a, uh, baby?"

"Yeah!" Kyle looked up sharply. "How did you know?"

"Just a hunch. Continue."

"He wants to get... he wants me to... GAH!"

"I see." Gregory steepled his fingers. "Obviously, this is far more serious than I first imagined. And I thought it was quite serious then."

"Huh?"

The bar door slammed open and the pair turned, ready to hide if they had been discovered by their other halves. Instead, they were greeted by the sight of a hysterical Butters heading toward them.

"You gotta hide me fellas!"

"What's up Butters?" asked Kyle.

"I-it's Eric! I was just going out and he was hiding behind the fence and he jumped out and s-said – oh hamburgers, I can't be a daddy, I'll get grounded for sure!"

Kyle went white. Gregory took a deep breath. "You did the right thing by coming here – why did you come here exactly?"

"I dunno! It just seemed like the logical thing to do!"

"Well, get yourself a drink. We need to work out exactly what to do about this situation."

Kyle regarded him suspiciously while Butters went to the bar and ordered himself a glass of coke. "You know something about this, don't you?"

Gregory nodded. "Trust me, I want to put this right as much as you do, but first we..."

The door opened again and Kenny walked in, looking rather stunned. Gregory sighed. "Not another one."

"Uh, whiskey please," said Kenny to the barman.

"Double?"

"Bottle."

Butters got his attention and the pair of them headed to the table with drinks in hand. Kyle raised an eyebrow at Kenny. "So, what's your news?"

"Uh... Token just proposed to me."

"What?"

"Token?" Butters stared at Kenny, seeming distressed.

Kenny blinked, still shocked. "Yeah, that's what I said. But he wants to take me away from all this and get married and..."

"Start a big family right away?" asked Kyle sceptically.

"Actually, he did say something about that. I was too shocked by the whole marriage thing." Kenny took a drink and sighed. "I never even thought about him in that way but I guess it could work and y'know, Token's cool and it wouldn't be so bad adopting a few kids..."

"I don't think he wants to adopt," said Gregory. "He wants to be a mother."

"Huh?"

"He wishes you to impregnate him."

Kenny stared, open mouthed, then made an odd choking noise and turned blue. The drink fell from his hand as his limp form crashed to the ground.

"Oh my God, you killed Kenny!" said Butters in horror.

"You bastard!" added Kyle.

"Oh come on, who wouldn't have a heart attack at news like that?" Gregory settled back in his chair. "This morning, Christophe told me he found Damien in the woods doing some kind of ritual – specifically, a ritual to make Pip pregnant."

Kyle narrowed his eyes. "This has to be connected! That's why everyone's acting so weird!"

"Not everyone," corrected Gregory. "We all seem to be unaffected. None of us are suddenly desperate to be parents. So, what is it that all those who do have in common?"

"So far, we know that Stan, Token and Cartman are affected..." Kyle trailed off and looked at Gregory. "You didn't say. Is Christophe...?"

"Yes."

"Wow. That's pretty fucked up. So why them and not us? And is anyone else affected?"

The door flew open again and the screaming form of Tweek Tweak flew across the room, saw them and barrelled in their direction. "You gotta hide me! GAH! I can't be a daddy GAH it's too much pressure, oh God, what if he really does get pregnant and the Government takes me into custody and wants to do experiments on my super-sperm and then they want me to knock up the President and his wife kills me and GAH! GAAAAH!! I don't wanna be killed by the First Lady! ACK!"

"I guess Craig's affected too," noted Kyle. "Butters, can you get Tweek some coffee?"

Butters got up and went to the bar while Kyle made some vaguely soothing gestures at Tweek. Gregory leaned his head in his hand, frowning thoughtfully.

"What is it?" Kyle asked him once Butters had returned and Tweek was gulping the coffee gratefully.

"It's probably not relevant, but it's the only link I can see at the moment." Gregory looked at the four around the table and the unfortunate corpse on the floor. "The five men we know for certain have sudden burning desires for the joys of motherhood are all brunettes."

Kyle stared. "So, you're saying that only brunettes are affected."

"I'm saying nothing of the sort. Just that it's the only link I can see between them that we don't share."

"It would explain why we're not affected," mused Kyle.

Tweek looked up at them. "We have to do something, I mean, GAH! What if Craig leaves me because I can't get him pregnant and runs away with someone else?"

"There's only one thing for it," said Gregory decisively. "We have to find Damien and make him reverse whatever he's done to the others. Also kill him."

"Well gee Gregory, I-I don't think it's very nice to ah, kill him." Butters looked nervously at the other man.

"I agree with Gregory," said Kyle. "Stan already tried to talk bris with me. Damien has to die."

"But ack! How do we find him?" Tweek drained the last of the coffee.

Gregory looked up and his eyes narrowed. "I believe our answer just walked through the door."

Four pairs of eyes looked to the bar entrance, where Pip was creeping nervously in. Seeing them, he gave a terrified smile and a slight wave.

"Let's all just try to remember it's not his fault," said Gregory. "So, if we hold him hostage and send a body part a day to Damien, that should be enough."

Tweek shuddered. "You're going to GAH cut bits off him?"

"Nothing vital. Just – extremities."

"Isn't that going ack a bit far?"

"They messed with Christophe. I believe it's necessary."

Pip reluctantly walked up to join them. "Well, hello there chaps."

"You'd better start talking," said Kyle.

"Um... well, do you know about the ceremony?"

The four grimly nodded and Pip gave a nervous laugh. "The thing is, Christophe interrupted and Damien said something by mistake and it went a little awry."

"A little awry." Gregory stared coldly. "I suppose you're aware that so far, there are no less than five men currently harassing their poor blonde partners..."

Kyle cleared his throat loudly.

"...Excuse me, their poor, fair-haired – will that do? – partners into getting them pregnant?"

"I'd hardly call myself fair-haired either," muttered Kyle.

"I know," sighed Pip. "It seemed like a good idea at the time – we didn't think it would end like this!"

"I suggest you get Damien to reverse what he did." Gregory glared furiously at Pip. "Right now. We do not need hormonal men causing problems."

"I want to, I really do," said Pip, trying to smile in the face of increasing hostility. "There's just one problem."

"Which is?"

"Uh... you noticed the ritual affected brunettes?"

"And?"

"Well – Damien isn't the blonde."

There was a moment while this sank in, then Kyle leaned forward. "Are you saying that Damien wants...?"

"Yes."

"And he wants to be the...?"

"Yes."

"That is seriously fucked up."

"He won't reverse the ritual," said Pip nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "He's looking forward to it. He's excited. It was all his idea to begin with! He said if were a proper family, then people would have to stop trying to split us up – the only thing that's changed is that now he wants to be the uh, the ah, the you know..."

"The mother," said Gregory.

"Yes, that."

Gregory leaned back in his chair. "So, where is he?"

"You're not going to hurt him, are you?"

"Do you think I could?"

Pip shrugged. "He was going to phone a few people, form some kind of knitting circle."

Silence greeted this revelation, followed by a frantic scrabbling for phones as the group began checking on their partners and temporarily insane friends.

"Christophe, it's me – oh, you're still angry? Have you tried nicotine gum?"

"Well gee Eric, I uh, think you should be – resting?"

"No Stan, I do not want to be the incubator!"

"GAH! You can't go over there, The Mole'll stab you with a needle and then ack Damien's gonna pull out your intestines and decorate with – what? No! GAH! Baking's worse!"

Pip stared gloomily at the table, waiting for the conversations to end and the fuss to die down. Eventually, he became aware of a silence and the weight of four pairs of very angry eyes resting on him.

"I swear to you Pip," said kyle slowly and deliberately. "If Stan doesn't lose this idea fast, I'll make sure you can't father children under any circumstances."

"I did have one idea," said Pip quickly, before the famous Broflovski temper could kick in. "If we can talk to Satan, I'm sure he'll be able to reverse the spell. He's very understanding that way."

"GAH! What if he eats our souls man?"

"Oh no, he's trying to watch his weight."

Gregory raised an eyebrow. "Do you have any way to contact him?"

"Um... I had thought of a way, but..." Pip gave a sheepish smile and pointed at the cooling corpse of Kenny.

"Oh no." Kyle shook his head emphatically. "I'm not waiting for him to get back and then killing him again. It could take days and I'm not putting up with this any longer. And you've killed Kenny before, you know how much he bitches about it."

"Agreed." Gregory gave Pip an unpleasant smile. "There's only one thing left we can do."

Pip sighed. Somehow, he'd just known it would come to this.

~:~

"Hey Satan," said Kenny glumly as he encountered the King of Darkness on his aimless wandering through Hell.

"Hello Kenny," said Satan cheerfully, seeing Kenny's misery and immediately becoming concerned. "Are you alright? Aw, does someone need a hug?"

"Um, I'm good," said Kenny quickly. "Just a bit, y'know, weirded out."

Satan nodded. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Well... it's just that I kinda died of fright after Token asked me to father his children."

"Right." Satan frowned. "Is he impotent or shooting blanks?"

"That's not quite what he meant. He wanted me to get him pregnant."

Satan's face froze in sudden horrified understanding. "I see. Um, could you just hold that thought a moment?"

Kenny sighed and sat on a nearby rock as Satan vanished in the customary pillar of fire. He didn't blame him. Thinking about it for too long would warp even a demons sanity. So he was surprised when Satan reappeared a few minutes later, looking upset and furious.

"That little hellion!"

"You usually sound proud when you say that," replied Kenny.

"It's hard to think of a suitable term for a wayward child when he's supposed to be bad." Satan perched on the rock beside Kenny. "Damien stole all my books on childbirth."

Kenny blinked rapidly, having missed this part of the story due to his sudden case of death. "Um, huh?"

"When Saddam and I were going out, we were thinking about – well, it doesn't matter now. The important thing is that Damien knows how to prepare any man for pregnancy!"

"...Is there any way I can just stay dead for a while?"

"I need your help." Satan stood up, glaring at the sky. "Something must have gone wrong if the maternal instinct is strong in others. We must reverse this!"

"If there's one good thing about being gay, apart from the buttsex, it's knowing there's no chance of babies!" Kenny stood up too, filled with righteous indignation. "The madness stops here!"

"Right!" Satan prepared to transport them up to Earth.

"Um, Satan?"

"Yes?"

"Were you gonna be the, uh, or was it gonna be Saddam?"

"...I don't want to talk about it."

~:~

"Christophe Junior," said Christophe firmly, biting viciously on his already ragged thumbnail. "I'm insisting on zat."

"Adolf," said Cartman, shoving a fistful of cheesy poofs into his mouth.

Craig wrinkled his nose. "That's disgusting."

"Fuck you Craig, it's the perfect name."

"Not the name, the way you talk with your mouth full. It's sick."

"EY! I'm eating for two!"

"You've been eating for two since you were two, fatass!"

"I'm not fat, I've got child bearing hips!"

"Yeah, and you could breastfeed too," added Stan.

"Fuck you!"

"I don't think I want to come up with any names until I see it," said Token. "I mean, what if we settled on Adam and it came out looking more like a Fred?"

"You think you've got problems?" Damien rolled his eyes. "Every single one of the Fallen are gonna want their name attached to it. You know how many Fallen there are? This kid's gonna have the longest name ever, or else someone's gonna be pissed."

"I'm just waiting for our mom's to start arguing over which of them to name it after." Stan frowned in concern. "I don't know if I can take nine months of them bickering about it, but I'm not having a kid called Gerald."

Damien's phone started ringing and he checked the caller ID before answering. "Hey Pip."

"I'm afraid it's not Pip," said a coldly irritated and perfectly familiar voice. "Either you meet our demands, or I'm afraid we'll have to take our aggression out on him. Meet us at your ceremonial spot in an hour to reverse whatever you did to our boyfriends."

"Gregory, you let him go right now or I'll cast you straight into a lake of fire!"

Christophe leapt to his feet. "Why is he calling you and not me? What ze 'ell is going on?"

"One hour," Gregory reminded Damien and the line went dead.

Damien stood, eyes glowing red. "Your boyfriend has kidnapped my boyfriend! I'm going to fucking eat his intestines!"

"Oh no you're not!" Christophe was in a pretty pissy mood himself. "You're not going to 'urt ze father of my child!"

"Watch me!"

"I'll kill you first!"

Damien took a threatening step toward Christophe, a move that would send any sane person running for the hills Unfortunately, twelve hours without a cigarette and the side effects of major hormonal imbalances were taking their toll on the mercenary, who leapt at Damien, taking him by surprise and tackling him to the ground.

Stan watched helplessly as the two began exchanging blows. "You shouldn't be fighting! Not in your condition!"

"They're not pregnant yet," Cartman reminded him. "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

"Oh, for..." Craig sighed and leaned over the pair. "Damien, if you don't leave him alone and get moving, you'll be too late to help Pip. Christophe – for fucks sake, have a cigarette."

The two backed away from each other, after a couple of shoves to prove that they weren't afraid, they just had more important things to do right now. Damien smoothed back his hair, while Christophe checked his pockets for smokes and came up empty.

"Here." Craig found his own packet and tossed them at Christophe, who caught them one handed, beaming happily.

"You shouldn't be smoking if you're planning on conceiving," Stan said reprovingly."It can lower the childs birth weight."

"Considering where babies come from, I think it might be better to make sure it's small," replied Craig.

There was silence as the group considered this. Christophe lit a cigarette and smoked half of it in one drag.

"I'll pay for us all to have C-sections," said Token eventually. "Well, except for Cartman. The baby could cartwheel out of his ass."

"EY!"

"That's great," said Damien irritably. "Now can we please go and save Pip? I don't wanna be a single parent!"

"Me either," said Christophe. "I 'ad better stop Gregory before 'e does something stupid."

"I didn't think Gregory was the type to act rashly," said Token.

"You 'ave never seen 'im when 'e's moody," replied Christophe. "I think ze stress of 'is impending fatherhood is getting to 'im."

"Well, if Gregory kills Pip and then I kill Gregory, maybe we could raise the kids together," said Damien brightly.

There was another dead silence as Damien and Christophe exchanged looks.

"...No."

"Non."

"Guys," said Craig as they headed for the door. "Do you think motherhood is changing us?"

Stan shook his head. "Nah. We're the same as we always were."

~:~

Pip sighed to himself. Tied up in the woods for the second time in twenty-four hours. At least this time he was sitting up and had his shirt on.

Gregory lounged against the tree beside him, a gun in his hand. Kyle had opted to have a weapon too. Butters and Tweek had both found squirt guns filled with holy water, as no one trusted them with actual guns. Tweek gulped down another coffee, occasionally twitching in horror.

The group looked up as they heard footsteps coming through the trees. A moment later, Damien strode into the clearing, followed by his knitting circle.

Damien's eyes flashed. "Let him go."

"First, call off the hormones." Gregory narrowed his eyes, trying not to let his gaze wander over to Christophe. The last thing he needed was to be distracted.

"It's not hormones!" shouted Damien. "It's biological imperative!"

"Bloody hell!" Gregory casually aimed the gun at Pip's head. "I don't want to shoot him, but if it's him or Christophe, then I will!"

"Don't drag me into zis!" Christophe glared. "I don't believe you are making all zis fuss over 'aving a family!"

"We're too young to – oh no, not even going there."

Stan made a vaguely soothing gesture. "Look, you really should put down the gun and just talk it over. Maybe you're not ready to have children, if you're going to bring them into a house with arguing and kidnappings."

Kyle immediately levelled his own gun at Pip's head. "You're absolutely right Stan!"

"Kyle!"

"I've put up with your breasts and your vaginas, but I'm not dealing with your ovaries!"

"It's a long story," muttered Stan as Damien gave him a startled sideways glance. "Two really long stories actually."

Damien sighed. "Look, drop the weapons or I'll give you all ovaries!"

"Reverse ack the spell first!" yelled Tweek.

"And we have a stand-off," smirked Cartman.

"I don't know why you're so happy," snapped Craig. "If they get their way, you don't get your baby either!"

"Whateva! I do what I want! And Butters'll do what he's fucking told!"

"N-no way Eric!" Butters darted forward, ignoring the protestations of his group. "I'm not ready to be a daddy!"

And with that, he shot Cartman in the face.

Fortunately for Cartman, Butters was armed only with a water pistol. Unfortunately for Butters, it was filled with holy water, which splashed off Cartman and hit Damien on the hand.

"Fuck! That hurt!"

"Hamburgers!"

Butters fled, diving behind Gregory for protection. Gregory glanced over his shoulder. "That's no good. He'll kill me first you realise."

"Oh yeah." Butters checked the area and used Tweek as a shield instead. Tweek screamed fearfully.

Damien finally lost his temper. The skies darkened and the wind whipped up as his eyes glowed red, the onlookers backing away nervously. "That. Is. Enough."

"You're darn right it is."

Everyone looked around as a pillar of flame burst from the ground, igniting a hapless pigeon. Satan stepped out, Kenny peering around him nervously and waving at the assembled group.

"Huh, he brought Satan back," said Kyle. "Perhaps we don't have to kill you after all Pip."

"That's marvellous," said Pip fervently.

"Kenny!" Damien scowled furiously. "You narced me out to my dad? Not cool dude!"

"He just worked it out himself," insisted Kenny.

"Damien." Satan's voice was weary. "Have you been trying to get pregnant?"

Damien glanced at the floor. "Well, I was gonna just knock up Pip, but then I got to thinking and – look, I'm gonna be a mommy and you can't stop me!"

"Oh yes I can, young man!" Satan's eyes glowed an eerie yellow. "SCREWIUS THISIUS!"

A bolt of lightening hit the ground in the centre of the clearing and a bright blue beam of light bathed the group, spreading across the entire town before dispersing in a matter of seconds. Disoriented, the teens looked around at each other.

"Um..." Damien's voice was unusually timid. "Have I spent the day knitting vests, or was that my imagination?"

"You wish," replied Satan grimly. "You are in a lot of trouble!"

"You 'ave no idea," snarled Christophe furiously. "I 'ave spent ze whole day without a cigarette wanting – wanting urgh! I'm never going to 'ear ze end of zis!"

"Damn right," said Gregory cheerfully. "This is a good few years worth of blackmail material."

"I wanted to have Butters baby," said Cartman in a faintly horrified voice.

Without warning, Stan threw up across the floor.

Kenny glanced over at Token, who was looking mildly queasy himself. "I died to get you out of this dude. Don't comment. Just don't."

Pip smiled nervously, still tied up. "Well, at least no one's actually pregnant, since it was just the preparatory ritual."

"Actually, we don't know what Damien did to mess the ritual up," said Satan, glaring at his child and remembering why he had decided never to have another. "Did any of you boys have unprotected sex last night?"

Craig snickered at Christophe's stricken expression. "I always figured you'd be the pitcher."

"Shut ze fuck up!"

"Mouthbabies!" Tweek tried to cover his mouth and rant at the same time. "Shit, I'm gonna have mouthbabies gnk and then I'll vomit children everywhere and oh shit, I'm gonna choke on them and die and oh God, they'll grow up traumatised and ack start dressing up like me and stabbing Craig in the shower and GAAAAH!"

Kenny and Butters suddenly found the view of the sky very interesting. And the floor. In fact, any direction but each others was the favourite to look in.

"We practise safe sex," said Kyle smugly. "No pregnancy scares for us!"

"Thank God for your anal retentiveness," said Stan fervently.

"Stan," said Cartman firmly. "Never, ever use the word 'anal' when you're talking about Kyle near me!"

"Well, you're safe," said Token. "No one'll go near yours."

"EY!"

Sighing, Satan waved his arms and engulfed the group in a pillar of fire. A moment later, they were all standing (or in Pip's case, sitting and still tied up) in the pharmacy.

Satan smiled at the guy behind the counter. "Excuse me, but I'd like a pregnancy test for my son and one for all his friends."

The pharmacist blinked at the ten-foot red demon buying tests for a large group of boys, but wisely refrained from comment and handed them over. "You want to put that on your card?"

"This is coming out of your allowance," Satan growled at Damien.

"Dad!" Damien looked hopefully at Token. "Um, maybe you could..."

No way," said Token flatly. "My parents check my credit card receipts. Explaining one test would be bad. Explaining this many? I do not need to be sent to military school."

Damien sulked while the pharmacist did a quick head count. "Ten tests?"

This presented a quandary. No one wanted to admit to not having had sex the night before, nor would anyone say for definite if they had given or received. After several awkward minutes, Satan just bought tests for everyone, much to Damien's disgust.

"Do you have a bathroom we can use?" asked Satan.

"...Round back," replied the pharmacist, deciding he wasn't going to argue. Fuck it, he was hitting the cough medicine as soon as the group were out of sight.

There was still more awkwardness as they realised the shop toilet was a smallish cubicle and it was going to take some time. Tweek insisted he didn't need to pee on the complicated looking stick, leaning over the sink and spitting on it instead. Butters took too long, insisting he couldn't go with everyone listening. Gregory announced repeatedly that the whole thing was ridiculous and he didn't see why he was being punished along with everyone else. And Christophe got despondent and angry, deciding he was pregnant before he even saw the results, because God hated him and this was the ultimate way to show it. Life became even more unpleasant when Cartman decided he might as well dump while he was in the cubicle, which even Satan objected to.

But eventually, Satan held ten carefully labelled pee-coated sticks, while the boys stared at the walls or their watches. Three minutes never felt like such a long time.

"Remind me never to ask what girls do in the bathroom for so long ever again," said Token mournfully.

"Cheer up," said Kenny. "At least you wanted to wait until we got married."

"Yeah," added Cartman. "Now he can't trap you into marrying his white-trash ass by using some kid against you."

"Fuck you!"

"Butters," Token said through gritted teeth. "You're standing on my foot."

"Gee, uh, sorry."

"You could move."

"Boys, do you mind? This is serious!" Satan glanced down at the sticks in his hand and brightened. "Oooh, they're ready!"

Immediately, all ten boys tried to crowd around him and Satan pulled the sticks out of reach, glaring until they backed off and waited impatiently.

"Well, the ceremony might have been a disaster, but at least there was no lasting damage." Satan smiled cheerfully. "They're all negative..."

There was a loud cheer, much dancing and unashamed hugs. No one could quite understand why Butters looked so relieved, but if they had thought about it, they'd have put it down to wanting to belong.

"Can I finish?" Satan gave a pained smile. "They're all negative – except this one."

The group stopped celebrating, staring at Satan worriedly. Christophe grimaced. "Whose is it?"

Satan looked at it gravely. "Damien, it's yours. Congratulations son. I'm going to be a grandfather."

Damien went whiter than usual as everyone backed hurriedly away from him, just in case it was catching. He stumbled toward the door, then put on a burst of speed and fled from the bathroom.

"Wait!" Pip ran after Damien. "This is what you wanted, remember?"

Satan rolled his eyes and Kenny looked over at him. "You were lying, weren't you?"

"Yeah." Satan tossed the tests into the bin. "He needs to be taught a lesson and I don't think a fatherly lecture will cut it this time."

"That's just evil."

"I'll give him time to realise the gravity of the situation, then tell him the truth. Maybe then he'll think twice about messing with the laws of human reproduction and stick to turning people into animals."

"But you're not going to tell him yet, surely." Gregory tried to look serious.

"You should give him more time for the lesson to sink in," agreed Craig.

"At least, until we've had a chance to uh, congratulate him," added Kyle.

Satan attempted to appear stern, but failed miserably. "You boys wouldn't be seeking revenge would you?"

"Of course not!" said Stan innocently.

"Speak for yourself," said Christophe with a malicious smirk. "Zis is going to be fun."