WARNING: Contains spoilers from Muffin Tops and the Archive. This work is intended as a sequel to the original. Please read the first story before this one, it will make a lot more sense!

Without further ado, here is the long-awaited sequel! Enjoy!

Chapter One

Ohmigod.

Oh my God.

Oh my God.

Oh my God.

Oh my God.

Bebe Stevens was dumbstruck. Stunned. Horrified. Shocked. Shooketh, for lack of a better expression. Her hands were sweaty and shaking. Her stomach was doing front flips and backflips. Her brain felt like it was working overtime, all hamsters frantically running on their wheels at top speed to put the pieces together while red lights flashed and sirens blared.

There would be no coming back once word got out. She'd have to end it all, change her name, and fly to some remote island where she'd never be recognized again. Maybe she could go back to church and become a nun and move to a convent in provincial France and pretend she was a mute.

Her social life would be over. Way over. She would be less than the end piece of a loaf of bread, more useless than a white crayon in a world devoid of black paper. This was it. She'd taken an absolute nosedive in regards to human decency even by her own incredibly low standards.

Cold sweat dripped down her back and took the form of quivering beads on her pale forehead. Her mouth had suddenly gone dry and stale. She didn't know whether to cry or scream or to find the nearest katana and commit seppuku to preserve the last shreds of her honor that were hanging by a delicate thread.

What would everyone think?

We were right about Bebe all along, they would say, she really is a no good nasty little slut.

And they would be right.

She struggled to keep her phone steady in her slippery palm. The video played over and over on the screen, an ugly mishmash of flesh and iPhone flashlight that made her feel sick. She couldn't bear to look at it any longer. She turned her phone off and cast a sideways glance at the boy sleeping soundly next to her, a pillow tucked between his bare, muscly arms.

She hadn't been lying when she'd said Stan Marsh was the hottest guy at South Park High School all those months ago. There he was, sleeping like a regular baby angel, his raven-black hair all mussed from the previous night's festivities and his chiseled bronze cheekbones faintly glowing with dewy sweat. His naked back rose and fell slowly, dotted with a handful of tiny moles that looked a bit like constellations. His eyelashes twitched in his sleep. Bebe licked her lips and struggled to formulate a plan.

She'd had sex with her best friend's ex-boyfriend. Her ex-boyfriend of many years, not that it made it any better. She'd been drunk – no, they'd both been drunk – and now there was a video. An extremely explicit video of Bebe fucking her lifetime BFF's ex-boyfriend now existed.

Bebe leaned over the side of the bed and retched onto the carpet. Hot, acidic vomit poured out of her mouth and nostrils, smelling and tasting vaguely of Four Loko and Malibu coconut rum. Stan stirred in his sleep as a pained groan wormed its way out of Bebe's gut. Her eyes watered. There would be more puke coming in the near future.

As she sat up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she realized she had no idea whose bed she was sleeping in and whose carpet she'd just blown chunks all over. Blinking the remnants of restless sleep out of her eyes, she squinted at the sight of herself in a mirror on the wall. She was completely naked, rolls bared to the world, her hair a pitiful yellow rat's nest atop her head. Her eyeliner had run so badly there were pale black streaks from what could only be tears all the way down to her nipples.

She stood up, carefully picking her way around the impressive puddle of unnaturally green vomit on the floor, searching for her missing clothes. She found her thong haphazardly thrown over a lampshade.

Her eyes drifted to a gilded picture frame resting innocently in a sliver of early morning sunlight that had managed to slip between the tiny space between the drapes. She grabbed it, tilting the picture until the bright glare on the glass disappeared at the right angle. Another wave of nausea washed over her and she clamped down her teeth, fighting the urge to throw up again.

Token's happy little family was grinning up at her mockingly from the photograph. It had probably even been taken by some expensive photographer in an actual studio.

She'd had sex with her best friend's ex-boyfriend – who had taken a video of it – in one of her ex's guest rooms in his literal mansion. Her life was a figurative movie and she was the butt of the joke.

At best, she was probably the main character's best friend.

She found the rest of her outfit on the floor in the guest bathroom. It had one of the fancy showers that sat right overhead and fell straight down like rainwater. Her outfit was wrinkled and reeked horribly of musty cigarette smoke and sweat. The armpits on the skintight top she had worn were still a little damp.

Now dressed, she used the hand soap by the sink to wash off the caked layers of makeup still left on her face. Someone's toothbrush was in the medicine cabinet – she would've felt guilty, but leaving hangover vomit in her mouth was not her idea of a good time – and she used it to brush away the lingering chunks of what seemed suspiciously like drunkenly consumed McDonald's.

In the guest room, Stan stirred awake. The sound of running water must've finally woke him up. Bebe felt sheer panic grip her heart as he stretched and groaned, sniffling in confusion.

She meekly shuffled out of the bathroom into the dim bedroom. Stan blinked at her a few times.

"Bebe?" He went to stand up before realizing he had no clothes on.

As he frantically covered his crotch with the sheet, the pieces clicked in his mind. Bebe bit her lip, not knowing what to expect. Stan looked back between the puke on the floor, Bebe looking a hot mess across the room, his clothes strewn along the carpet, and back to Bebe again before burying his face in his hands.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

She didn't know what to say. "…Yeah."

He threw his head back in disbelief. "We had sex."

Bebe thought for a moment. "Uh…yeah."

"Fuck. Why?"

She was a little offended. "I don't know. Look, I don't even remember it, but…"

He looked up at her expectantly. "But what?"

To tell Stan or not to tell Stan that he'd taken a video of them having sloppy drunk sex? Unfortunately, due to a series of terrible decisions, that was the question.

"You…may have taken a video of it. Of me. And you. You know."

The color drained from his face.

She was feeling a little guilty and she didn't know why. It's not like it was only her fault. Wordlessly, she crossed the room, opening the video and playing it in front of his face. It was a little ballsy for Bebe, but for some reason she felt the need to prove to Stan that he'd put his dick inside of her last night of his own free will, however muddled it was by alcohol.

"Jesus Christ. Did that get sent to anyone?"

Bebe shook her head. "I don't think so. It's in my camera roll and I didn't text it to anyone from what I can tell."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Delete it already."

There was an instant jolt of possessiveness that punched through Bebe's conscience for a moment before she realized she was being stupid. Her junior year had been completely ruined by a picture of her boobs making its way around school. She couldn't imagine the scope of what a literal sex tape would do to her reputation. She'd be damned if the same thing was going to happen to her again. She took a deep breath, deleted the video, and then deleted that from her recently deleted folder to make sure it would never ever see the light of day again. Getting rid of it had the same cathartic energy of flushing a crushed cockroach down the toilet. Out of sight – hopefully the out of mind part would be forthcoming.

Stan squirmed a little beneath the sheets. "Could you…turn around? So I can get dressed?"

"Oh! Oh. Yeah. Sure."

Bebe turned around, taking a few steps forward, trying to ignore the pungent odor beginning to fill the air from her steaming pile of puke on the floor.

"Um, let's talk about this," Stan finally said once he was dressed.

She turned to face him. "Okay."

"I don't really remember last night. Like, I remember that Token was throwing a little party before school starts back up next week, and we all showed up and drank and smoked and whatever, but I really did black out. Like completely."

"Same," Bebe quickly said. "Me too. I can't remember anything either. I think I was drunk before I even got here last night."

Stan sighed in relief. "I was worried you were going to be freaked out and say I raped you or something."

She blinked in shock. "What?"

"What I mean is," Stan quickly tried to backtrack, "It would've been different if only one of us was blacked out. But we both were. And I remember Clyde saying you tried to say he raped you, and…"

Her chest was a little sore. "I wouldn't have told anyone you raped me." Her feelings were hurt.

Stan was red. "I don't think you would have. I'm just saying…look, never mind. Can we just agree to never talk about this again, please?"

His big blue eyes, however bloodshot they were, earnestly pled with her. He seemed honest and upset about the whole thing. Bebe would be lying if she said she wasn't ready to forget the entire ordeal, grab some Taco Bell breakfast on her way home, and sleep the rest of her Sunday away.

Sunday…what was so important about Sunday?

Fuck.

She had plans with Kenny today – Kenny McCormick, part time God, part time assistant manager of the Bijou Cinema, full time sole occupant of Bebe's daydreams.

"Oh shit. What about Kenny?"

Bebe's mounting panic was doing nothing to help her already upset stomach. Stan ran his hand over his sallow face, looking like he was coming down with the flu.

It was no secret that Bebe and Kenny were a Thing with a capital 'T.' After the Trent Boyett debacle – that thankfully wasn't discussed as much now that the news that Annie Knitts was a lesbian had come to light – they got super close but never took it farther than holding hands and flirting with each other. It surprised most of the people in their respective social circles. Kenny's default setting was horndog and Bebe didn't exactly have the highest standards for who she decided to date or sleep with. To think that Stan could've come between the weird bond they shared…it was enough to make him sick.

And he was. All over the carpet in Token's guest bedroom. Bebe winced, unable to tear her eyes away, as Stan puked a vodka cran mixture swimming with half-digested pot brownies onto the floor.

"Ew."

She hadn't really meant to say it out loud but the statement did perfectly encapsulate her emotions at the time.

"Sorry. Gross."

Bebe thought about how Kenny would react when he found out. He'd be really heartbroken. She would have betrayed the trust they'd taken so long to build together.

"No one can find out about this," Stan said, watching Bebe slowly grow more and more distressed. "No one at school. Not Kenny. Definitely not Wendy. This stays between us, okay?"

She found herself nodding frantically before she even opened her mouth. Stan extended a hand to her.

She shook it gratefully. "Deal."

Thankfully it was early enough in the morning that Bebe was able to sneak out of Token's house unnoticed by the unconscious teenagers that littered the living room and foyer. She walked up and down the long driveway, confirming her little red Volkswagen wasn't parked amongst the haphazard cars before getting a Lyft back across town.

Bebe made it back to her house – thankfully her trusty car was safe in the garage where she had left it – and found it was empty. She wondered what business her parents had on a Saturday morning other than their usual agenda of sleeping in and ignoring each other. Not that she was complaining – now she could shower and chug the last of the Pepto Bismol without fearing discovery by her overbearing mother.

When she was finished getting ready, she had to admit she bounced back pretty well after a wild night of partying. Yes, her face was a little red and swollen, and she obviously had a killer headache, but no one could see that under her full face of makeup complete with delicate little false eyelashes. Her almost dead phone buzzed on the bathroom counter as she pinned back a chunk of her hair with rhinestone bobby pins.

'here. you ready? coming to the door xo' Kenny texted her.

She kind of loved that he came to pick her up for their dates that weren't really dates because they weren't dating. In a hurry, Bebe spritzed a humungous cloud of Bath & Body Works spray into the air, walking into it before spraying both armpits for good measure.

Bebe caught herself in the mirror on her way to open the door. She was shocked to see herself looking pretty. Her hair wasn't so frizzy for once, her makeup was smooth and not too heavy, and her simple outfit of a tight black turtleneck and trendy gingham pants made her look a bit more like a fun young adult instead of the fumbling teenager she truly was. There was pep in her step as she went downstairs for her not-actually-a-date.

Kenny opened the door as soon as he heard her heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. He knocked the wind right out of her. How had he gotten even more handsome since the last time she saw him? It should've been impossible, but then again, he did love to prove her wrong.

She jumped into his arms with a delighted squeal. He'd ditched the Axe body spray for something a little more mature-smelling that Bebe couldn't put her finger on. They sat in the threshold of her house, squeezing each other, both way too excited for a Chipotle date.

"Mm," Kenny said, his cheek buried in Bebe's hair, "You smell so good. What is that?"

She pulled back, looking up at his perfectly sculpted face with a huge grin. "Love and Sunshine."

"I like it. And look at you, with the chunky FILAs." He smiled as Bebe pulled back from their hug, doing a little spin and funny kicks with her feet, showing off her pristine white shoes. "Little miss trendy over here."

Bebe pulled a few more funny faces, not used to being complimented so much. "Thank you, thank you. You look super-hot, as always," she said, gesturing to Kenny's outfit.

He would've disagreed, seeing as he was merely wearing a pair of jeans and a hoodie, but he liked when she said that, so he just smiled.

The excited energy in the air dissipated. For a moment, Bebe and Kenny stared at each other, each just happy to be back in each other's presence again. Bebe sank her teeth into her lip and giggled, unable to contain the happiness bubbling in her chest. It was almost like she hadn't slept with one of his best friends literal hours earlier.

"Let's go, hot stuff. Early bird gets the fresh salsa."

Whenever they rode around in Kenny's truck, he always put a hand on her knee. Not her upper thigh, not around her shoulders, but safely on her knee, like he was worried she was going somewhere. At first, she didn't like it because she thought he was going to judge her for having stubbly skin or fat legs, but she grew to love it, enjoying the secure feeling it offered. Every few seconds he looked over at her sitting happily in the passenger seat, singing along to the songs on the radio.

"Your voice," Kenny gushed. "Giving me goosebumps."

She blushed, continuing to sing at him. As comfortable as they were around each other, she was still embarrassed every time he acknowledged her singing voice.

They pulled into the parking lot at Chipotle and instantly joined hands as soon as they were inside. Bebe liked that Kenny's hands were a little rough.

"It's on me today," he said, stepping in front of her.

She feigned offense. "Nuh-uh. My treat." She stepped a giant FILA sneaker in front of Kenny's scuffed Vans.

He smirked. "Is that so?"

They stepped over each other's feet all the way up to the worker who was waiting patiently for them to arrive, laughing at the couple. Kenny and Bebe snickered to each other as Bebe stepped directly in front of him to order first.

"Hi, what can I get for you guys today?" The girl asked.

Bebe jumped and hissed as Kenny pinched her butt through her gingham pants. "Oh my God. Sorry, ignore him, he's stupid. I'll have a steak burrito, please."

The worker got Bebe's order ready. "You guys are so cute. How long have you been dating?"

Oof – the dreaded question. It wasn't like they hadn't gotten it before, but every time was just as awkward as the last. Bebe and Kenny stopped giggling and avoided eye contact.

"Oh, are you guys not – oh. I'm so sorry! It just looked like you were...sorry. Will that be for here or to go?"

The energy was off now. Bebe paid for their food and they sat down at a table together, both afraid to be the first one to speak. Kenny picked at his chicken bowl halfheartedly, sneaking glances up at Bebe through his blond eyelashes. She pretended to be busy with something on her phone, holding her burrito in her other hand.

He nudged her big shoe playfully with his own. Bebe acted as though she thought it was an accident. He cleared his throat. Bebe ignored him. Finally, he seized Bebe's phone with his long fingers and stashed it in his hoodie pocket in one smooth movement.

"Hey! I was pretending you didn't exist behind that."

He laughed. "You can get it back after we finish lunch."

Lunch. Not 'our date.' It was getting hard to tiptoe around the weirdly specific language they used.

"Look," Bebe began, setting down her burrito. Kenny instantly knew it was serious. "I know you said you were going through a lot with your parents and work and that's why you didn't want to put a label on us…but…it's been all summer. Senior year starts on Tuesday."

Kenny chewed on the inside of his cheek.

"I really respect that you wanted to work on things with your family before we took things any further. But I don't want to wait forever. I mean, everyone already thinks we're dating."

"I know."

Bebe sighed. "So?"

He shrugged. "I had kind of wanted it to be a surprise, but…Kevin is letting me move into his apartment. I was going to take the last of my stuff over there today, actually."

"Oh my God! That's great! That's – that's amazing! Holy shit. I'm so happy for you."

"It's not super nice or anything, but it's a hell of a lot better than my parents' place. Not that that's saying much."

Bebe had never actually been inside Kenny's house. On the rare occasion they stopped by for Kenny to pick something up, he firmly told her to wait in the car. She could tell just from seeing the outside that it wasn't in good shape.

"I just don't think it's fair to you to start taking things seriously if I've got all this other shit going on. I really like you and I want to figure everything out so if it happens that we start dating…I can give one hundred percent instead of worrying about my parents and Karen and SATs and this stupid job at the Bijou all of that other shit."

She sighed and took a deep drink of her soda. "I get it."

Kenny nudged her knee with his own under the table. "Sorry."

"It's okay." And she meant it – it was impossible to stay mad at Kenny, especially when he was looking at her with nothing but guilt in his big blue eyes. "Don't worry about it."

"Well, the good thing about moving in with Kevin is that between work and visiting his girlfriend in Boulder he's basically never home, so…" it was unlike him to be shy about anything. He scratched a spot behind his ear. "If you want to come over and like, hang out, it can just be us."

Bebe narrowed her eyes. Wasn't he just saying he wasn't ready for commitment? Asking her over and stressing the fact that they could be alone sounded like the complete opposite to her.

She blinked before licking the sour cream off her lips. "Are you asking me to come over so we can hook up?"

Kenny snorted his Sprite in shock, spraying fizzy soda from both nostrils all over the Chipotle table. He frantically grabbed a fistful of napkins and tried to hide his face and blow his burning nose at the same time. "No!" He said as he struggled for breath, his eyes watering. "That's not what I'm saying at all!"

She felt kind of guilty as she watched him struggle to mop up the sprayed Sprite with the last of the soggy paper napkins.

"Then what are you trying to say? Because that's what it sounds like to me. And I shouldn't have to remind you that we are not having sex unless we're dating."

Did Bebe regularly fantasize about Kenny ripping her clothes off and digging into her the same way a rabidly PMSing preteen digs into a tub of raw cookie dough? Of course. Did Kenny get off to pictures of just her smiling face on her Instagram? Without a doubt, sometimes twice a day. There was enough sexual tension between the two of them to insulate a five-bedroom family home, but they had both come to the agreement that things wouldn't get physical until they were both in a good enough place to date and devote their time and energy to each other. It hurt Bebe to say it out loud, but now she was just confused. Did he or did he not want them to be together? Because if he just wanted to hook up without putting a label on their relationship, then…he was no better than all the guys that had screwed her over in the past, just better looking.

"I just mean," his eyes were red and his nose was running, but he was mostly recovered, "I don't have people over. Like ever. So the first time you came to my place I wanted it to be special and – I love Kevin to death, don't get me wrong, but…he can be kind of weird sometimes, and I didn't want him to make you feel awkward. I wasn't talking about you coming over for sex."

Bebe felt an unfamiliar twinge of warmth in her chest. She was still taken off guard by any gesture of thoughtfulness from a man. She shook her head, feeling embarrassed but relieved.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have thought – ugh. I'm so bad at this."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "It's okay. I am, too." He gently reached out his palm.

Bebe put her hand in his and he gave it a squeeze. That was all it took to let her know that things were going to be just fine – eventually.

I had planned to come back to this story a long time ago but I'm way not into South Park anymore (and I'm 22 so coming back to something I started when I was in middle school is a little weird...) and I've been crazy busy with school and working! Plus, the whole pandemic thing did NOT help with writer's block. I hope you'll all forgive me for putting this off for so long! I don't think Tramp Stamp will be nearly as long as Muffin Tops, but I haven't entirely finished working out the plot so we'll see!