Eric Cartman watched with an expression of demented joy while his mail-order brine shrimp swam listlessly around in their 20-gallon glass tank. He ran one chubby finger down the side, watching as the little creatures scattered to flee. He smiled. Cartman had calculated it all out. He would need four packets of sea-people eggs this time, along with two gallons of semen. This was it; finally, after saving his money for weeks and waiting for the sea people to come in the mail, he would once again be their god.

"Has the sperm bank called back yet?"

Kenny crossed his arms. "No."

Cartman sighed. He had called the Sperm Bank Of South Park an hour ago, and they had still not returned his call. Perhaps a 17 year old boy looking for two gallons of semen was not high on their priority list. Cartman looked around disgruntled at the boys sitting around behind him. He had invited Kenny, Stan, and Kyle over to assist him . They were only serving to piss him off at the moment. Especially Kyle.

"This won't work, fatass.", said the mildly annoyed Jew, "They'll just end up killing each other again."

Cartman turned on his wide heel to glare at his enemy. "I'm using less this time, and you guys are leaving before they have time to choose you as their crappy, inferior, god."

"I'm kinda with Kyle on this one.", Stan piped up.

"Of course you are, God, you guys are such fags."

Kenny snickered and said something under his hood.

"We are not butt buddies, Kenny!", Kyle retorted.

Just then the phone on Cartman's desk began to ring. He rushed to it and grabbed the receiver. This had to be the Sperm Bank with his precious semen order. Stan, Kenny, and Kyle exchanged looks at his typical psychotic enthusiasm. Cartman responded to the voice on the other end of the line with his usual aplomb:

"Well it's about fucking time!", he nearly yelled into the phone. The voice on the other end told him to calm down. "Now look, Linda, I've gotta have this stuff today and you're really breakin' my balls..….Well I'll need two gallons of your finest quality semen..….Oh that will have to do, all right...of course, I'll send one of my men out right now to pick it up."

Cartman nodded at Kyle, who shook his head vigorously and waved his hands. He ignored him.

"Yes, no no, thank you." He put the telephone receiver back in it's cradle with a click and turned back to his unwilling entourage. They were splayed out on his bedroom floor, wearing looks of varying degrees of disinterest and disdain. Cartman surveyed them carefully, tapping the first of his two chins. His gaze settled on the boy with red curls. Kyle glared at him and folded his arms.

"I'm not picking up your semen, Cartman."

Kenny broke out in riotous laughter and Stan chuckled. Kyle blushed slightly but held his ground.

"Yes you are, Jew", the fat boy commanded, pointing at the door, "you will respect my athoritah!"

Kyle grumbled and got up from the floor, flipping Cartman the bird before stomping dejectedly out the door. Somehow, the fat bastard could always get Kyle to do his bidding. Even if it meant taking on the unflattering title of semen collector. The door shut with a thud and Cartman turned back to the two remaining boys on his carpet. The look in his beady brown eyes told Stan and Kenny that he had something planned. Something very, very bad. They gulped.

"Now, unfortunately for you guys, the sperm bank doesn't have all the semen I need.", Cartman explained, pacing up and down in front of them , "When the Jew gets back, I'll still be one pint short."

"Sucks for you.", Kenny mumbled.

Cartman laughed and stopped pacing in front of the hooded boy. "No no, Kenneh, you don't understand. That extra pint is going to be your job.", He asserted, pointing at Kenny and Stan.

The boys exchanged looks of fear and disbelief. No way did Cartman expect them to produce a pint of semen, before Kyle returned, between the two of them. No fucking way. The large boy had turned away from Kenny after explaining his plan, and was now at his desk. He poured the pencils out of a jar next to the sea-people tank and held it up.

"This jar, you guys, this jar filled to the top. That's your job."

Stan scrambled for the door. Kenny followed suit. Cartman moved fast when he was intent on getting his way, however, and no pussies like Kenny and Stan could stop him from becoming God of the sea-people. He blocked the door with his large frame and placed his hands purposefully on his girlish hips.

"Stop fucking around and get to work!"

Kenny swore and walked back to the carpet. Stan followed reluctantly.

"And exactly how are we supposed to do this?", The dark haired boy asked angrily. A moment later he wished he had kept his mouth shut.

Cartman walked over to his desk again and picked up a brightly-printed card. He opened it and pulled a rubber glove out from the pocket inside. He stretched the glove over his pudgy hand and spoke, as if to himself. "They gave me this with the sea-people eggs to help feed them or some shit, but I'm going to use it for something else." Cartman paused and stuck his rubberised fingers in his mouth, looking predatorily at the two boys sitting anxiously on his floor. "Who wants to go first?"

Kenny shifted and looked at Stan, who was staring wide-eyed at the glove. "I'll go.." Though the words were barely audible, Cartman smirked in understanding.

"Good. Hands and knees."

"What?", Kenny pulled his hood off from around his face, his blond hair sticking up at odd angles from static.

"You heard me, poor boy, get on your hands and knees."

"Dude, this is fucked u-"

"Shut up Stan!"

Kenny gulped and unzipped his jacket before complying with Cartman's strange orders. Stan watched as his friend's pants were unceremoniously pulled down and the pint-size jar was placed under him. The blond boy's grey boxer-briefs were next to go. He closed his eyes and tried not to think, especially about the cold, gloved hand now cupping his ass. Why was Cartman wearing gloves, anyway? Why didn't he just let him jack off by himself?

"Now stay very still, Kenneh, this might hurt a little."

Before Kenny had the time to muse about what was so painful about masturbation, Cartman was pushing a gloved finger past his unsuspecting butt cheeks. He swore as the finger pressed in deeper, until it was pushing at the tight ring of muscle inside.

Stan winced and scooted back. "Dude, not cool.."

"I told you to shut yer goddamn mouth!"

The angry outburst shoved Cartman's finger inside. Kenny cried out and fell forward on to the carpet. The fat boy didn't seem phased, and responded by pressing another finger next to the first. Kenny whimpered and locked his jaw on his arm. He tried to spread his legs wider, but it didn't seem to lessen the pain. The two pudgy fingers inside him moved slowly in and out. Kenny felt Cartman kneel closer to him, pressing in deeper and bracing himself on the boy's lower back. It fucking hurt.

Stan ran for the door, skidding down the hallway just in time to heave into the bathroom toilet. He had to get out of here, but could he really just leave Kenny? Stan dried his mouth off with some toilet paper and pinched the bridge of his nose. No, he couldn't leave Kenny, not when he was being...

"Fff-uck damn it!"

Stan burst through the door just in time to see his blond friend shaking and clutching at the carpet. He glared at Cartman and knelt down in front of Kenny, who was starting to pant. "How does it feel?"

"Like...like I'm gonna pee..or like..."

Cartman responded to Stan's interruption by pressing especially hard. Kenny clenched his teeth and his head fell forward. It was starting to feel like an involuntary reaction, a feeling he wanted to hate but couldn't. The fat boy grabbed a hold of his cock and held it over the jar, grinning madly and pumping slowly in time with his fingers.

Kenny cried out and reached for Stan's hand, the dark haired boy taking it awkwardly and rubbing his finger over the back of Kenny's palm. It was only a few more seconds before he couldn't take it any more, splattering the sides of the jar with a release that felt almost painful.

"That wasn't very much.", Cartman complained, "I'm going to need more from you."

Kenny's eyes widened as a third finger was inserted into his already sore backside. The pressure being put on his prostate now made his vision blur. His aching cock started to throb again, defenseless against Cartman's quickening strokes. Tears started leaking from Kenny's eyes and he grabbed Stan's hand until his knuckles turned white.

"P-please...st-stop..."

"Not until you give me what I want."

The fingers continued pressing, thrusting in and out rhythmically to Cartman's growing heart rate. There was nothing that excited him more than dominating somebody. Power, control...to have someone beg you to let them go when you have no intention of doing so. That feeling was better than sex.

Kenny whimpered a few more curse words before giving a breathless scream and another contribution to the jar. His whole body was aching, sweat dripping off his forehead and onto his arm.

"There we go...", mused Cartman, letting Kenny fall on his side in a trembling heap. He pulled the glove off his chubby hand before turning his gaze to Stan with a predatory glint in his eyes. The jar was still less than half full. That wouldn't do. Before the terrified boy could so much as move, the larger boy tackled him was to the ground by, pinning Stan by his wrists on the floor.

"Get the fuck off me!", Stan yelled. He strained against Cartman's strong grasp, but the boy was already on top of him, a knee on either side of his writhing hips. His attacker smirked at his fruitless struggles. Though he was pressed tightly against him, it was the look or fear in Stan's eyes that was giving Cartman pleasure. Stan was going to cum for him, weather he wanted to or not.

Holding his wrists above his head, the fat boy reached for the fly of Stan's jeans, pulling them down to his thighs with one tug. He made a high-pitched sound of protest as his involuntarily hardening cock was grabbed from the fly of his boxers. Cartman leaned down to Stan's ear, slowly stroking him with one hand still on his wrists.

"Stay still, or I'll do to you what I did to Kenneh."

Stan froze and gritted his teeth as Cartman continued molesting him. He let go of Stan's wrists and sat back on his legs, stroking faster before stopping suddenly. Stan's eyes shot open. His boxers were being pulled down further, the large boy spread his legs and knelt in between them, keeping a possessive hand on Stan's palpitating chest. He had lied. Prostate stimulation was simply the fastest way to get what he wanted. Besides, Stan was bigger than Kenny. He had more potential.

Sans gloves, Cartman shoved two fingers in Stan's mouth. He gagged and swore loudly when they were removed, only to enter him again at another point. Stan groaned and spread his legs wider. He tried to keep a look of pain on his face, but Cartman wasn't fooled.

"Damn you're loose, Stan!" He started to thrust harder and Stan bit his lip, his face turning red.

Of all the ways to discover he wasn't a virgin, this was the worst. Cartman brought his fingers down on his prostate and Stan moaned loudly. It had only been one time. He and Kyle were watching porn and...well it just got out of hand. The constant stimulation racking his body now was threatening to push him over the edge. Cartman grabbed the jar from behind him pulled Stan to a sitting position, his head flopping over into the fat boy's chest.

"I hah-hate you..", Stan panted.

"That's nice."

One more hard push and Stan came, clutching at Cartman's shirt as the world spun around him. His cock was still leaking slowly into the jar when he opened his eyes.

"Impressive.", Cartman commented, letting Stan fall on his side and holding the jar up to the light. It was nearly full now, with only about an inch of glass to cover. He looked from the panting boy on his carpet, then to the one that hadn't moved in several minutes.

"Looks like I killed Kenneh."

"You..b-b-bastard...", Stan groaned.

Cartman chuckled to himself and stood up, wiping his fingers on jeans before setting the jar back on his desk. Just then, Kyle burst through the door, carrying a giant box marked 'Sperm Bank of South Park'. He set it on the floor and looked around the room. It smelled like sweat and sex, and Kenny was dead.

"What the fuck happened here?"

Cartman walked over and put his hand on Kyle's shoulder. "Well Kahl, we were one pint short", he gestured to Kenny and Stan, "I've been collecting."

Kyle stared wide-eyed at his two collapsed friends. Of all the freaky shit Cartman had pulled, this was..well at least in the top 10. Stan rolled over and pulled up his boxers, just noticing that Kyle had returned. He gave his friend a weak smile and sat up, his jeans still around his ankles.

"Hey dude."

Kyle was still dumbfounded. The urge to punch Cartman was conflicting with his urge to get the hell out of there. Besides, he, like Stan, couldn't just leave Kenny in the psycho's clutches. Cartman clapped Kyle on the back and spoke to the room at large.

"Well it looks like kahl will have to make up for the difference."

"What?", Kyle started. He turned around to see if he was serious. To Kyle's horror, but not surprise, Cartman wasn't joking. How was he supposed to do that, anyway? There was no way he was going back to the sperm bank, and he had cleaned out their whole supply. "I don't owe you shit, asshole!"

"No kahl, you owe me cum."

Kyle punched Cartman in the jaw before he could grab him. There was no way Kyle was going to let Cartman touch him like that. No fucking way. The larger boy pushed him to the floor. The two boys wrestled for control for what seemed like forever, but Cartman finally locked his arms around Kyle's waist from behind, holding him fast.

"Kyle!"

"Get out of here, Stan!", Kyle instructed his distraught and still pants-less friend, "Take Kenny and get the fuck out!"

Stan crawled over and grabbed Kenny's lifeless body, his knees scraping on the carpet. He scrambled to his feet and managed to get out of the room just in time to hear a heart-wrenching scream from inside. It was just Kyle and Cartman now.

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

"I swear if you don't get the fuck off me, fatass, I'll-"

Cartman clapped a hand over the writhing boy's mouth. "What are you going to do, Kahl?", he moved his free hand down and groped at the fly of Kyle's green pants, the Jew made a noise of protest. The groping hand pulled madly at Kyle's zipper and shoved his pants down to his knees and out of the way. Nothing could stop Cartman from being god of the sea-people. Especially not Kyle Broflovski.

The red-headed boy was still struggling franticly under Cartman's strong grasp. The fat boy's hand was now down his underwear, giving his involuntarily hardening length hurried strokes. Kyle willed himself not to respond, but it seemed impossible. The last time anyone had touched him had been over a month ago. And that had been Stan.

"Goddamn it, Jew!", Cartman growled in his ear, "Calm down or I'll fucking choke you!"

To show he was serious in his threat, he wrapped his large hands around Kyle's neck and squeezed. Veins seemed to burst in Kyle's eyes. He gasped and pulled at the hands around his throat to no avail. This was serious. Cartman would really kill him. Not for a second did he doubt it.

"You gonna listen now, Kahl?"

The Jew gave a feeble nod. He whimpered as Cartman let go of him and held his wrists behind his back. Cartman smirked. The feeling of submission from Kyle was almost as good as being a god. Almost, but not quite. He wrapped his arms around Kyle's waist again, this time wasting no time in pulling down his underwear.

Humiliation shook through Kyle and made his body shiver with goosebumps. Cartman's hand was once more wrapped around his cock, but this time the strokes were more controlled, steadily growing faster. He let his head fall forward and clamped his still violent green eyes shut. Kyle was determined not to let the moan forming in the back of his throat out where Cartman could hear it.

The strokes became harder as Cartman grew more excited at the control he had over Kyle. The red-head growled. He should have never opened his mouth. A very unmanly moan left Kyle's throat. He could feel the chuckling rhythm of Cartman's hot breath on his neck. He was slowly moving his other arm from Kyle's stomach to his bare hips. The game had gone from one of pure domination to one of sexual superiority. If Kyle came, he lost.

Kyle tried to think of something, anything, to keep his mind off his penis. His strategy was almost working, until Cartman moved his other hand down further. He held Kyle's balls in his sweating palm, rubbing slowly with his thumb. Kyle's brain went blank. He was loosing. He was loosing so hard.

"Ff-uck you!", he moaned at the fat boy leering over him.

He felt Cartman thrust forward against his ass, moving him toward the jar. Kyle was too horny to protest and was jammed between Cartman's stomach and the edge of the desk. The stroking continued, along with Cartman's renewed assault on his testicles. Kyle's desire to punch him in the face and his need to get off were equal.

Cartman was starting to grow impatient. Neither Kenny nor Kyle had taken this long. He moved his hand on Kyle's balls lower still, and felt breath hitch in the boy's throat. He smirked. Kyle shook as he started to slowly rub the area just behind his balls. His moans, formerly infrequent, were growing louder.

"Goddamn it, cum already Kahl!"

"nggnn-no!"

It was a lie, a horrible lie. He was so close now and hated himself for it. Why the hell was he so sensitive there? Kyle panted and gasped out swear words. He could feel the point of no return coming up fast.

"guh...ah...ah...fuck!"

Kyle came, filling the jar and dripping over the top. His eyes watered. His entire body felt like it was on fire. When he finally came down, tears were still running down his reddened face.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you in your sleep."

"That's nice, Kahl", Cartman responded, letting go of the Jew and spinning him toward the door, "Now get the fudge out of my room so I can be god."

He pushed Kyle away from himself, the boy stumbling and righting himself shakily. He watched with a demented gleam in his eyes as Kyle struggled to pull his underwear and pants back up and grasp the doorknob. Kyle gave him one last look of disgust and anger before leaving the room and shutting the door.

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Cartman turned back to his desk. He now had all the materials necessary to create his very own sea-life subjects: four packets of eggs, four water-purifier tablets, a 20-gallon tank, and of course, 2 gallons of semen. He watched the brine shrimp in the tank swim listlessly around in their large home for a few seconds, before he grabbed the box Kyle had brought from the sperm bank and opened it up.

Cartman removed the carefully labelled vials from their foam packing, and began emptying them into the tank. The process was slow, but oh so satisfying. Even now Cartman could see the brine shrimp start to evolve. When he reached the last vial, Cartman reached for the very full jar beside the tank. He poured the contents in slowly, watching the semen swirl into the water in little clouds.

His eyes narrowed. Something was wrong. The brine shrimp's evolution had started to change. He leaned in closer to study their tiny faces. What had once been smooth and unaffected shell was now sprouting hair at an alarming rate. The sea-people were growing beards. This was a little odd.

As he had always done when something confused him, Cartman called out to his mother. The woman oblivious to her son molesting his friends just minutes before, who hadn't even heard them leave. Yes, she would know what to do.

"Meehhm!"

"Yes, poopsikins?", she called from downstairs.

"My sea-people are growing beards-", Cartman glanced back at the tank and noticed a further development, "and wearing little hats."

Liane hurried upstairs to help her whiny son. She entered his room and looked, quite unsurprised, at the large tank of quickly morphing brine shrimp. "What is it, my little man?"

Cartman leaned in to study the sea-people again, his mother walking over to his side. "What the fuck is happening to my sea-people!", he yelled at her.

She watched as the sea-people in question began to carve a six-pointed star on a large marble building. She put a hand on her son's shoulder and spoke softly.

"I think they're Jewish sea-people, poopy."

"Son of a bitch!"

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

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