SUPER DUPER MEGA COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters or the references to this show. If anyone asks, this story is parody and therefore does not violate copyright law.

Anyone who thinks otherwise can respectfully suck my lady-balls. ;)

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"You know you want me," the smirk was in his tone of voice.

"I'm not doing this for you," she snarled into his neck, biting him savagely enough to raise his skin in a perfect imprint of her teeth.

"You fucking hippie! You're going to give me rabies!" he reeled back, grabbing her obsidian-colored hair and making her squeak with surprise.

She laughed, her eyes sparkling with malicious glee, "You know you like it."

He hated her for being right.

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Chapter 1

Wendy was going to community college and she wasn't happy about it. A lot of her friends (EVEN SLUTASS BEBE) was going to a four year institution and she was stuck at home taking classes at South Park Junior College. It wasn't fucking fair. She had the grades. She had the drive. But the FAFSA people had rejected her request for financial aid because her parents made "too much." And her parents apparently DID NOT made "enough" to pay for the first two years of college in a proper university. Scholarships were a bust as well. She was practically laughed out of the high school counselor's office when she had asked for forms.

"Don't you realize we're in a recession? No wonder you're going to SPJC!" Mrs. Nally laughed, and Wendy had turned red with embarrassment and stuck up her middle finger right in Mrs. Nally's face.

"Fuck you, you stupid bitch- you'll see," she said, storming out of the office.

"Hahaha-hahahaha-just don't forget these-giggle- COMMUNITY COLLEGE forms!" Mrs. Nally was having too much fun at her expense, further giving Wendy the impression that SPJC was nothing more than a joke (which wasn't exactly too far off-there were apparently rumors that some people actually majored in "hacky sack.") Wendy put it down on her mental checklist of People to Fuck Over at a Later Date. There were too many people on that damn thing, but she never forgot. The solace of revenge was the only thing that kept her going some days.

Life was very unfair for Wendy. She lost her boyfriend to homosexuality and a football scholarship, she lost most of her friends because "oh, we have to move into the dorms three months early so we can meet our new college friends" and she was stuck in shitty South Park, living at home with her parents because "you'll save money" and goddammit, she hated it all.

To add a shit topping to her shit frosted cake, all of her general education classes this semester had fucking dumbass Eric Cartman in them, and he just couldn't let her live it down. He didn't have to explain how or why he was in the junior college in the first place. He just WAS, and she couldn't STAND it.

They'd both changed a lot on the outside since childhood. No, he didn't get thin, or less annoying. No she didn't get model-gorgeous or less determined in her beliefs. Real shit happens to real people, and that's how things were- Wendy accepted this.

He got tall, but he was bulky and stocky- he had even been scouted by the high school football team as a lineman due to his combined girth and underlying strength, but once he learned that he couldn't get away with dumping people in trash cans just because he was wearing a Letterman's jacket, he quickly stopped going to practice- typical fucking Cartman style. Only a very few number of people had pushed him around when he was a stupid fat kid, and ABSOLUTELY NO ONE pushed him around now that he had strength behind his outer chub. He had allowed his hair to get more into a messy shag, but largely it was due to laziness rather than any sort of style. And he never allowed it to get past the nape of his neck, "I don't want no faggy pussy hippie haircut" he would shout loudly when someone with long hair (Like Stan, for example) walked by.

She, on the other hand, had gotten to be an average height (a lot like her mother, actually) and though her breasts had grown to a nice, large D cup, it didn't mean she had some sort of flawless stomach (which really, was all she could focus on). She hated the little pouchy look that it got when she sat down and even though she rode her bike and did strength training, it just never seemed to go away. Having large breasts totally sucked in other ways, too. Not only did guys stare at them (which made her want to wear T-shirts and hoodies all the time- it freaked her out), but no clothing really ever fit her well. She didn't really like how her breasts bounced when she walked. Running was generally out-especially since Cartman lived only a couple blocks away. She remembered that time when she had finally been coaxed to go jogging with Bebe in high school and Cartman had shouted "HEY THERE ROCKET TITS" out the window at her. And so, for very good reasons, she tended to stick to a fairly conservative semi-form fitting babydoll t-shirt and some jeans.

It didn't help that every day she walked down the hall to her morning class, Cartman always seemed to be behind her making stupid comments about her ass or her boobs or her face and what he'd like to do to them. He seemed to get a really big kick out of harassing her, but then again, with most of his preferred harassment victims off at college, he didn't have that many prospects, and hell, Wendy lived down the block.

That morning, though, the morning it all began, he had done one better- he had been waiting for Wendy to walk past his house (which was the only way to get to the proper bus stop to get to school) and then "pretended" to "happen" to be on his way out and began to walk uncomfortably close to her. It was already a shitty looking day outside- the clouds were threatening rain and Wendy had to get to the bus stop quickly- she knew the bus was due to arrive soon. At first she tried to ignore him, but he kept doing this infuriating thing where he'd mutter something under his breath and then say something humiliating about her body suddenly out of nowhere and then go back to muttering again. When she felt his hot breath ('ew, Pop Tarts,' she thought) ruffling the back of her long dark hair, she couldn't take it anymore.

"WHAT THE FUCK, FATASS!" she shouted, "Are you trying to fucking stalk me or something?"

"Hey there, bitch," he replied, attempting to look nonchalant but not being able to hold back his self-important grin, "Thought you might have your panties in a bunch about something today- after all, you're stuck in community college hell" (he paused, suddenly changing his voice to an artificially high pitch) "or IS she?"

"What the hell, Cartman, I'm going to be late," she was unimpressed with his shenanigans.

"I'm just saying that," he gestured out with his hands like they were on a billboard in front of him, "Wendy Testaburger might just have a chance at the big time! ECHO ECHO ECHO!"

Her eyes narrowed, "I'm just trying to get through these two years so that I can save up and transfer as a junior so I can get my degree. I'm not buying into your schemes."

Cartman looked mock-hurt, "What, me? Scheme? No waaaaay! I'm just saying...we're not really all that different, you and I..."

"Uh, who keeps calling me a hippy and running around practically shouting 'zeig heil'?" Wendy snapped, quickening her pace. Unfortunately, Cartman's taller stature meant he had the leg strides to match and he easily caught up with her.

"Wehhhn deeeeee," the whine was right out of 4th grade, "I'm just saying that you never win. You always try to do the right thing and you always get screwed. And just look at me! I get away with fucking murder- literally! I'm just proposing a wager- something that will give you a chance to get out of this stupid town and something that will keep me entertained, because goddamn I hate being fucking bored."

She was somewhat curious about what sort of wager it could be when she shook her head to clear her thoughts- making a deal with Eric Cartman was like making a deal with, well, the devil, or whatever was worse than the devil. But it couldn't hurt to ask what she could stand to win, after all, it wasn't making her just a bit excited in the pit of her stomach thinking about the possibilities. After all, if this guy could get away with murder, it's not a far stretch to see him getting her a full ride scholarship or even...she had to ask.

They were at the bus stop, but the bus was nowhere in sight. They were alone, but even if they had been around others, Cartman had no qualms with making sure that everyone else knew what he had to say.

"What are you proposing, anyway?" she said, folding her arms, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

He got close to her face, his eyes meeting up directly with hers in a very unnerving way, which wasn't easy because he was a good head taller than she was, "Simple. I'm going to bet that you can't get me an 'A' in all of my classes for the rest of the semester. Mah mom is gonna get me a new car if I get a perfect 4.0 and I want that fucking car."

Wendy snorted. A fucking car? This was rich.

"Why not bother your mom to get it for you anyway?" she wasn't falling for it, after all Ms. Cartman was always buying him every single thing that her son ever wanted.

Cartman looked down, a strange energy seeming to surround him and suddenly...HE FUCKING GRABBED HER ARM, HARD.

Wendy reacted like she'd been burned and jerked back. She attempted to shake his grip, but she might as well have tried to break free from an iron shackle. She hadn't really noticed before how strong he'd gotten. He hadn't touched her directly since they had gotten into junior high school, and that was only one time when he had accidentally stumbled into her while their PE class was supposed to be running the mile. All he had said to her was, "Sorry, ho," and that was that. Her face reddened with anger at his touch.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you fucking asshole! Let go of me immediately!" She started grabbing at his hand with her other hand, trying to uncurl his fingers as they dug deeper into her arm.

"You don't understand!" Cartman looked up with shining, faraway eyes, "I'm talking about the new Xesus 3500! It has a fucking cappuccino maker in it! And a mini fridge! Not only is it custom made so NO ONE ELSE HAS IT, but my whoring bitch mom is fucking around with the owner of the dealership and when she spreads her legs, he'll do ANYTHING for her. Now normally, I'd just think of some way to blackmail him, but this way, I get a one-of-a-kind item above board-which is rare for me-and I don't have to listen to her stupid drivel about living up to her expectations. As though she has any fucking expectations for HERSELF."

His eyes focused back on her, and he looked her directly in the eyes again, "I get what I want. I do what I want. And I want that fucking car."

He finally noticed that she was struggling against his grip and released her. She stumbled back a couple of steps, her cheeks flushed with anger and fear, tickling in the back of her throat, her stomach and (she would never admit it) even a bit between her legs. It was that primal feeling of fight or flight coursing through her veins, hitting all of her nerves in a pleasant and freaky sort of way- she wasn't sure if she wanted to run or bite him in the jugular vein or acquiesce to being grabbed roughly and...

'holyfuckdon'tthinkaboutcartmanthatwaydon'tthinkaboutcartmanthatway'-her brain kept telling her once it realized what exactly kind of train of thought her stressed out brain was getting into.

She rubbed her arm, trying to calm down and silence the rage, the fear and the utter maddening nature of knowing he was so much stronger than she was, "And what exactly do I get if I agree to this dumbass proposal?"

"Simple," he pursed his lips like a businessman, "You get a full ride scholarship to the Susan B. Anthony Lesbian Bitchhead School or whatever fucking stupid place it was you wanted to go as your first choice."

Wendy's brain went blank with shock. He must have been referring to the Susan B. Anthony University For Gifted Young Women- an all-girls university with tiny classes and educational tracks tailored to each individual student that was not only next to impossible to get into but was incredibly expensive as well. The college also assured that each student who graduated would be put into contact with the industry or career that they had majored in- a great opportunity to get into the working world after four years of study. Wendy knew firsthand about the university, she had been accepted there- her first choice- to study feminist thought and political science, but unfortunately when the money had fallen through, she had to give up all hopes of ever going (they didn't accept transfer students). But then she remembered it was Cartman. How the hell did he know that she wanted to go there anyway?

"How the hell do you think you can get me into *that* school?" she said skeptically.

"Oh, I know some people," he turned his eyes up, speaking in that annoyingly smug voice that told her that there was a story that likely involved blackmail, torture and probably some black market KFC as well.

"Well, I'd need proof that you could even *do* that," Wendy's voice quavered a little, tempted as all hell, "Then again, what exactly would I have to do if I lost?"

"Wendy, do you know what happens when a new male lion takes over the pride?"

"What?" she was taken aback at the seemingly unrelated question.

"I said, do you know what happens?"

"No, what?" she said cautiously, knowing that she was probably walking into a trap.

"The male takes the liberty of killing off any of the cubs from the previous king and do you know what happens?"

Wendy didn't like where this was going. "And?"

"So the lionesses immediately go into heat. The male can then feel free to impregnate them, create his own heirs, pass on his genetics, and rule his pride with..well..pride."

"What the hell does this have to do with this hypothetical bet?" Wendy was practically shouting, looking down the street wondering where the fuck the bus was anyway.

"So, if you lose," he smiled like he was talking about rainbows and sunshine, "We get to play lions. You become mine...forever, whether you want to or not."

"Fuck you, Eric!" Wendy used his first name for emphasis on how weirded out she felt about this whole situation.

"Hmmm, you just might be right, but hey, wouldn't you like to know if you can get into Bitch University with a full ride scholarship? Aren't you willing to put something important on the line- such as yourself?" The smile got larger, like a Cheshire cat.

She was starting to wonder if he was just screwing with her and this was all just some kind of fake bullshit joke anyway. So instead she tried a different tactic, one she hoped would stop the thread of unease and butterflies from encircling her stomach more tightly.

"Well, this is a stupid fucking idea, but even if I *did* want to help you, I can't exactly enter in a binding contract anyway, seeing as I'm still only 17," she replied, snapping at him and his stupid smug grin.

"Oh, yes, I know all about that, Wendy- you do know that we've gone to school for, like...what, all our lives?" He was talking in that quiet, somewhat conspiratorial voice that he often used when he was scheming and she knew that he'd already thought about this particular loophole.

"I happen to know that you turn 18 in three weeks, Testies-burger," he said, his voice becoming snarky and self-important, "So how about we revisit this little...proposition...at that time. You either say yes or no, and either way, the decision is final, slut-face."

"I am not a slut!" Wendy cried, closing her eyes in frustration, "Fucking hell, I've never even-" she cut herself off realizing to whom she was about to tell her virginity status.

He smiled, but not in a good way, "Oh reeeeeally..." he replied, his eyes leering at her body, "That's even better..."

She blushed and backed away, hoping not to catch his gaze for fear of seeing horrible torturous god-knows-what flashing in front of his eyes. Luckily for Wendy, she noticed that the bus was almost there-and she breathed a sign of relief. "Whatever, Cartman, I still have three weeks. Just don't fucking rush me. And hell, maybe I'll ask for a few extras to sweeten the deal for myself. Lord knows that even if you lose you're going to win."

Cartman looked at her pointedly and what he said made her blood run cold- just like he had looked into her heart and knew she'd already decided, "I *always* get what I want."