I know it's cliche to say "why did I write this"
But really, why.
HOPPITY HOP, A STAN/KYLE FIC
Summary: Stan is a rabbit, but only sometimes, Butters runs an inn, Cartman is an evil wizard and Clyde sells cabbage.
Though the inn hasn't had a guest in several weeks, Butters still gets up at dawn to start cleaning as if to prepare for a sudden onslaught of tourists. It's partly because he's naturally optimistic, and partly because if Eric happens by -- which is also unlikely, as he hasn't been seen in these lands in months -- he'll blame the inn's lack of patrons on any stray speck of dust he can locate. Butters suspects it's probably his wayward husband's reputation as a heartless sorcerer that keeps the guests away, but he'd never say so to Eric.
His only hope of having a customer is via his only friend from the nearby town, Clyde, who was officially christened Village Idiot after he fell for a mean prank involving an alleged princess who wanted to marry him and make him her knight. Butters thinks it's an unfair title, considering that Clyde was only sixteen at the time, but he appreciates having a fellow outcast to have tea with once in a while, and is also grateful when Clyde can convince someone passing through the village to stay at Butters' inn, which really is nicer than the rowdy one in town that sits atop the pub.
Clyde is a cabbage merchant who uses his cart to taxi travelers about for extra money, and whenever Butters hears the cabbage cart coming up the road -- a distinctive sound, as it's pulled by asses rather than horses -- he's hopeful that Clyde will come bearing a passenger who will want room and board. He grins when he sees that today, that is the case, and he turns back to the kitchen to make sure everything is in place for a guest. It is, as usual: the fire is glowing from the hearth, the front walk is neatly swept and lined with blooming flowers, and his work in the kitchen has filled the cottage with the scent of sweet baked rolls. It's the sort of home that Butters hoped he would have with Eric after they were married. He supposes he technically does have this home, but he rarely shares the bed with Eric, who moved on to new conquests after Butters ripened to the less desirable age of nineteen.
"Hello!" Butters calls out, waving to the grouchy looking man in the back of Clyde's cart. He looks quite foreign and exotic, owing to his wild red curls, expensive-looking cloak, and the fact that he's clutching a fuzzy black rabbit to his chest. "Welcome!" Butters says when Clyde's asses come to a halt. "Have you come looking for a room?"
"Yes," the man says, and he dismounts carefully, brushing cabbage bits from his cloak with one hand, still holding the rabbit with the other. "For two nights. We need rest before journeying into the Enchanted Wood."
"Oh, wow! I know it's close by, but I've never been to the Wood. Are you a magical sort of fellow?" Butters isn't sure what the man meant by 'we,' as he seems to be the only passenger. Clyde dismounts and ties his asses to Butters' fence. He'll be wanting a meal in exchange for the business, but Butters never minds having company.
"Not magical, no," the red haired man says, rather sternly. "We simply have business there. Have you got a room for us?"
"Of course! I mean, ah, yes. Clyde, could you give me a hand with the bags?" Butters wonders if he should take the rabbit, which is a jet black and oddly calm in the man's grip. "Is that something you'd like me to cook for you?" Butters asks, wondering if he caught it near here. "I know a real good rabbit stew recipe."
"No!" The man turns his shoulder toward Butters, scowling. "How dare you presume that I would! This is -- this is my beloved pet. I won't stay here unless you guarantee he won't come to harm."
"Oh, certainly not!" Butters glances at Clyde, who is standing with the man's bags. Clyde is a man of few words, but Butters understands when their eyes meet that Clyde thinks this stranger is odd, too. "I didn't mean to offend you, mister-- Mister--?"
"I am Kyle of East Orange. You may address me by that name."
Butters thinks it a bit odd that such a fancy gentlemen would offer his given name as opposed to his surname, but he nods in agreement and helps Clyde with the bags. At the front desk that he's fashioned out of an old dressing cabinet with the drawers turned toward the wall, he accepts the first night's payment in gold and offers the guest book, which Kyle signs only with his first name and town of origin.
"You," Kyle says to Clyde when he returns from setting Kyle's things in the best guest bedroom. Kyle produces a small silver bowl and sets it on the counter beside the guest book. "Fetch some fresh water for my rabbit. I'll take something stronger if you've got it," he says to Butters, who watches with trepidation as the rabbit makes its way across the counter top and toward the bowl, its little nose twitching. The thing hasn't answered nature's calling yet, but Butters thinks it's got to be just a matter of time. He normally doesn't allow pets, though he has to admit that the little thing looks quite clean, even silky.
"I've got some mulled wine," Butters says.
"Good. I'll take the bottle in my room. We -- I'm craving privacy and quiet, which is why I've chosen this inn over the one in town. I hope you can respect this."
"Oh, sure! Will I see you for dinner?"
"I will come to retrieve my plate at whatever time you serve, but I will consume the meal in my room, if that is acceptable."
"Fine by me," Butters says, kind of disappointed. He likes talking to folks. "In fact, I'll even bring it to you, no trouble." He watches Clyde pour some water into the silver bowl. The rabbit inspects it briefly before drinking.
"Alright, then," Kyle says, plucking the little creature gently from the counter when it's had its fill. He picks up the bowl and nods to Butters, then to Clyde. "Thank you both. I will retire now."
When the door to the guest room is closed, Butters gives Clyde a wide-eyed look, and Clyde smiles.
"Where'd you find him?" Butters asks, whispering.
"Wandering around town carrying that rabbit. I thought he looked pretty lost."
"He's going to the Enchanted Wood!" Butters walks around and takes Clyde's arm, pulling him toward the kitchen, where they'll be able to speak at a normal volume. "I don't know if he'll do very well there. It's a pretty rough place, Eric says."
"I've never been." Clyde walks over to the tin of freshly baked rolls and sniffs them. "Can I have one of these?"
"Well, sure! I've got apple butter, too, you want some of that?"
"You know it."
Butters decides to make a proper lunch of it, and he heats up some cheese soup, sets out slices of salted pork and pours a little beer for both of them. Clyde always has a hearty appetite, which is something Butters admires in a man. He'd loved that about Eric, once.
"He been by lately?" Clyde asks while his face is still half-lowered to his plate. He's eaten four rolls already, with lots of butter and pork piled on them, sometimes dipping them in the soup as well.
"You mean Eric?" Butters says, though he knows that's who Clyde means. Clyde looks up from his food and nods. Butters shakes his head slowly. "No, he sure hasn't. Hasn't written to me, either," he adds, though Eric never wrote, even when they were courting.
"I heard he's in the low country making trouble," Clyde says. "You better look out that his trouble doesn't come down on you."
"Well, what am I to do if it does? I don't have any magic powers like him. I'm a sitting duck, Clyde."
"I'll bring you a sword," Clyde says, returning to his food.
"Clyde! What -- you can't afford a sword, can you?"
Clyde grunts and drags a roll through the last of his soup. Butters grabs the ladle and serves him a little more from the pot.
"I suppose you're right," Clyde says glumly. "But if I find a sword, I'll bring it to you."
"Thanks, Clyde," Butters says, touched, though also dismayed, because Clyde has about as much chance of finding a useful sword than he does a magic lamp with a genie inside.
Clyde stays until dusk, when he must return to care for his ailing father, who has been melancholic since the loss of Clyde's mother. There is a cruel rumor in town that Clyde himself was to blame for the loss of his mother, having accidentally knocked her down the well where she fell to her death, but Butters has never believed that. He sets about making dinner for himself and his guest, in a cheerful mood because of the long day spent in simple conversation with Clyde, and because he'll finally be able to collect a few nights' worth of gold from a customer. Because his guest seems to be somewhat refined, despite his odd devotion to that rabbit, he makes a delicate fish recipe with thinly sliced potatoes and fresh herbs. Twice while cooking he thinks he hears Kyle talking from behind the closed door of his room, and assumes that he's just chattering at that rabbit. Butters can forgive this eccentricity; when Clyde is kept in town by bad weather, Butters sometimes get so lonely that he talks to his cooking utensils as he works.
He approaches with the tray shortly after nightfall, startled when he thinks he hears another voice from within the room, lower and calmer than Kyle's. He knocks, and all goes quiet inside.
Kyle opens the door only slightly, peeking out at Butters. He's changed into simpler clothing and smells as if he's bathed.
"Hungry, sir?" Butters asks, lifting the tray. Kyle eyes it with what seems like suspicion.
"Oh -- yes. I'll take that." He inches the door open just widely enough to get the tray through. Butters can see that he's lit the fire himself and already mussed the sheets, but he can't see whatever Kyle has done with the rabbit. Butters has been slightly concerned; if the animal does damage and Eric finds out, there will be a curse put on rabbits throughout the land.
"I put some things on the side there for your pet," Butters says, gesturing to a bowl of raw vegetables. "Has he got everything he needs?"
"Yes, thank you," Kyle says curtly, and then he shuts the door in Butters' face.
Butters eats his fish and potatoes alone in the kitchen, pleased that the recipe turned out well but sad that his guest isn't dining with him and complimenting the meal. Butters has always been an excellent cook. Eric used to love his rabbit stew, and he once called Butters the perfect spouse. Butters had been so excited at the courtship, and his parents so pleased that a wealthy wizard like Eric took an interest in their simple son. He wants to know where he went wrong, how he lost Eric's affection, but he supposes it's just that he's not as exciting as Eric's travels around the world. Eric has never invited Butters along, but he's not sure he would like all that adventure anyhow. He wants a life here, in this cottage, with someone who comes eagerly to the table for every meal.
At night in bed, Butters thinks of Clyde, and recalls how he'd licked cheese soup from the corner of his mouth several times. He knows it's wrong, because he's a married man, and feels terribly guilty when he begins to imagine grunting and thrusting noises, a headboard slapping against a wall. He sits up in bed when he realizes he's not imagining it at all: it's coming from the guest room.
Fearing that his guest is being attacked by an intruder who slipped through the window, Butters springs from bed, wishing he had a sword. In lieu of one, he takes up a heavy candlestick and creeps toward the guest room, his heart pounding. Whatever is going in there sounds violent indeed, and Butters can hear Kyle's helpless cries through the door. He throws it open with a shout, hoping to startle the intruder enough to put him off his guard for a moment.
The intruder, a large, dark, and somewhat hairy man, is indeed caught off guard, and so it seems is Kyle, who is bent over the bed sideways, beneath the hairy man, who has paused in mid-thrust. They are both naked, splayed and breathless, and neither of them looks glad that Butters has intervened.
"Get out!" Kyle shouts. "At once!"
"Are you -- you're alright?"
"I'm perfectly fine, goddamn you, be gone!"
Butters meets the dark man's eyes briefly, and he looks so mortified and scared that it seems true that he can't be doing anything unwanted. Butters flees, his face burning. He can hear Kyle still cursing him from within the room. He sneaks back to his own bedroom, tiptoeing as if he's the intruder, and by the time he reaches the door the thrusting has resumed, through more quietly.
In bed, Butters lies under the sheets and stares at the ceiling, unwilling to tend to the erection that has developed as a result of glimpsing a sex act that he hasn't enjoyed in over a year. The last time Eric came home, he asked for a hot meal and got so drunk while consuming it that he was passed out immediately afterward. Butters cuddled up to him, but it wasn't the same with Eric unconscious and snoring, and when Butters awoke, Eric was gone again.
In the morning, Butters is up early, having slept poorly after what he saw. He makes enough breakfast for four people, in case Kyle's friend has stayed the night and on the off chance that Clyde, Eric, or someone else will come by. Kyle sleeps late and exits his room alone, again carrying the bunny, which he sets on the breakfast table. Butters bites his tongue to keep from protesting.
"Well?" Kyle says, sitting down across from Butters. "Have you got anything to say for yourself?"
"Ah -- no?"
"Really? You're not going to apologize for barging in on me last night? What kind of inn is this!"
"It's not the sort where we let an extra person stay for free!" Butters says, trying to puff himself up a bit. "If you've got another companion, he's welcome to stay in your bed, but I'll be charging you for it."
"No one is staying in my bed," Kyle says. His face has colored, despite his attempt at nonchalance. "That was a brief visit from an old friend, and he did not use your washing soap, hot water, consume any extra food or any additional resources at all. He was gone before dawn, when our business was concluded."
"Business?" Butters says, because if he's got a whore staying with him he could be fined by the county for operating a brothel.
"Perhaps the wrong word choice," Kyle says. "Nevertheless, I take it I'm still welcome here for another night?" He takes out some gold and lays it on the table. It's slightly more than he paid yesterday. Butters accepts it with a nod.
"I was just startled is all," he says. "I thought maybe you were being attacked!"
"Our love making does have a primitive nature at times," Kyle says, looking pleased with himself. He tears off a bit of cranberry muffin and offers it to the bunny, who nibbles it eagerly.
In the afternoon, Butters washes up and goes into the guest room to change the sheets while Kyle is out. He's taken the rabbit with him, and Butters finds no sign of a cage or little bed for the thing in the room, but also no sign of mess or damage, which is a relief. Perhaps the thing, so dear to Kyle, is well-trained. He does find evidence of what he feels is excessive ejaculation, all over the sheets and in at least one spot on the floor.
When he goes out to pick herbs to dress his lunch, he spots Kyle in a nearby meadow, napping in the sunlight while his rabbit frisks about in the grass, munching wildflowers. He's surprised that Kyle is willing to close his eyes while the thing is vulnerable to hawks, then realizes that Kyle isn't napping at all, only drowsing a bit, his eyelids heavy against the sun. Kyle puts his hand out and the rabbit dashes into it, nuzzling Kyle's palm as if he had called out to it. Something about witnessing this makes Butters feel uneasy and voyeuristic.
Butters lunches alone, sad but not surprised that Clyde doesn't show up to join him. Clyde visits only once or twice a week, the journey from the village not being a particularly short one, and he's usually selling cabbage if not bringing a visitor. Butters is not fond of cabbage but he usually buys some, though Eric positively hates the stench. When Kyle returns to his room he gives Butters a polite but guarded nod, and spends the rest of the day shut in there, at one point taking what Butters estimates, by the sound of it, to be an hour long bath.
Annoyed by the events of the night before, Butters puts less effort into dinner on the second night of Kyle's stay. He uses the remainder of the potatoes and cheese soup to make a kind of impromptu onion pie. Again, he sets aside a bowl of fresh vegetables for the rabbit.
At dusk, Kyle breezes out into the kitchen while Butters is arranging the tray. He seems revitalized by his day in the meadow, or perhaps by that hard fucking the night before. Butters wants to ask who that man was and how he got into the inn, but feels as if he shouldn't. He's surprised that Kyle left the rabbit in the room, unattended.
"That looks delicious," Kyle says, leaning over the tray of onion pie. "Last night's selection was a bit too spare for me. Well-seasoned, but I like a heartier meal, like this. Could I have -- a bigger piece?"
"Well, sure!" Flattered, Butters cuts another sizable square from the casserole and slides it onto Kyle's plate. "Would you like some more wine?"
"Yes, please," Kyle says, and he takes the bottle from Butters' hand before he can produce some glasses for the two of them. "Thanks!" Kyle calls, sashaying toward the guest room with the wine and food. Butters scowls after him, wondering if he's some kind of runaway royalty who thinks every uncrowned person he encounters is a servant in some form or another.
Butters eats several helpings of onion pie himself, feeling depressed. He wanted some of that wine, and is not sure that having guests here is all it's cracked up to be, though he certainly needs the money. The supply of gold Eric left for him last time he was here was hardly generous, and it's dwindling.
He's cleaning the dishes when he hears giggling from the guest room. Suspicious, he dries his hands and tiptoes toward the door, hearing voices now: first Kyle's and then another, spoken low and unmistakably different. He waits in the hallway, his heart beating fast as he tries to decide what to do. Kyle has that man in there again, and they're drinking Butters' wine together, having a fine time, and having a laugh because they think they've successfully cheated him out of a second fee for room and board. Of course Kyle wanted two pieces of onion pie! And no wonder he wants to eat in his room. Furious, Butters walks up to the door and prepares to knock.
Before he can, the sex noises start up again. The door is thin, and he's close enough to hear even the kissing sounds. A kind of profound sadness seems to root his feet to the ground. He would really like to be kissed again someday.
Once the moaning and headboard-thumping starts up, Butters is brought out of his trance. Not wanting to wait until they've had their fun at his expense, he knocks forcefully on the door.
"Shit!" Kyle says from within. Butters can hear them both panting. "What?" Kyle calls.
"I can hear you in there, gentlemen! And I'm rightly owed a second boarder's fee, whether that fella in your bed stays the full night or not!"
There's some muttered conversation. Kyle sounds angry, and the other man is saying that they owe Butters an explanation. Damn right they do!
"Just give us a moment!" Kyle shouts. "For god's sake, man, you wait until the worst times to intervene. It's suspiciously perverse, frankly."
"Kyle," the other man says, scolding. Kyle grunts.
"I will be in the kitchen," Butters says, proud of himself for not backing down, though he is grinding his fists together nervously. "You fellas make yourself decent and come out to pay me what I'm owed, you hear?"
"Yes, fine," Kyle grumbles. "Just leave us be for a moment!"
If they continue their love making, they do so at a volume that is not audible from the kitchen, where Butters lights the fire and puts on a kettle, unable to resist making the scene a bit hospitable. He's getting out some spice cookies as he hears them come in. The cookies are slightly stale, and he tells himself not to fret over it.
When he turns, he sees them both standing in the doorway, Kyle looking defiant and the dark haired man rather cowed and apologetic. He's taller than Kyle, and thicker, and has a handsome face. His clothes are ill-fitting and much less fine than Kyle's embroidered robe, beneath which Butters fears Kyle is naked.
"Well," Kyle says. "I suppose you think you can charge us full price for a second boarder."
"What do you call him?" Butters asks, gesturing to the other man. "A figment of your imagination?"
"I call him Stan. That's his name. But it's more complicated than it looks."
"Wait a minute," Butters says, noticing the silkiness of Stan's black hair, the black fuzz on his arms looking strangely familiar. Butters gasps and jumps backward when it dawns on him. "You -- you're some kinda shape shifter! You're that rabbit!"
"I'm not a shape shifter," Stan says, his shoulders raising sheepishly. "I'm cursed."
"He was attacked by an evil warlock," Kyle says. He puts his arm around Stan, drawing him close and petting Stan's chest with his other hand. "But fortunately his attacker was also a highly incompetent, drunken warlock who does sloppy magic. The curse wears off nightly, at sundown, but it reinstates itself when the sun rises again."
"That's why you want to go to the Enchanted Wood!"
"Yeah," Stan says. "We're desperate for magic. I can't live like this."
"How come a warlock cursed you?" Butters asks, thinking of Cartman, who never has a particularly good reason for putting evil spells on people.
"He was teasing Kyle at a royal party," Stan says. "I came to his defense."
"A royal party?" Butters grins and glances at Kyle. "I knew you were a prince!"
"I'm not," Kyle says. "Stan is the prince. I'm the son of his father's top advisor. We grew up together, and we're--" Kyle glances at Stan, who smiles at him tiredly. "In love," Kyle says, hugging himself against Stan's chest.
"Aw," Butters says. "That's real sweet. But listen, you two. There's more bad than good in the Enchanted Forest. Not just witches and such but trolls, goblins -- and mean little imps who will keep you in there forever if they can turn you around and get you lost!"
"We've got no choice," Kyle says. "I thought at first, when we discovered that the curse would wear off during the night, that we could live with it, but it's not right for Stan to have only half a life."
"You can't tell anyone you've encountered us," Stan says. "Least of all someone from the kingdom of East Orange. Once I was a rabbit, my sister took my place as heir, and she tried to have me killed when I revealed to her that I still had half a human form. Kyle used a rabbit from the kitchens to help me fake my death, but if she finds out I'm alive she'll send assassins after me."
"And he's so helpless as a rabbit!" Kyle says, still clutching at him. "And I'm no warrior."
"Well, that's bad news," Butters says. "'Cause you'll need a warrior with you in the Enchanted Wood!"
"I was in the royal army," Stan says. "We'll travel at night and hide during the day."
Butters shakes his head, because that's easier said than done. He sets out the cookies and pours three cups of tea, wondering if he should mention that he's married to a powerful wizard. He decides he'd better not, since he doesn't know where Eric is, when he'll return, or if he'd be willing to help some travelers for the sake of the inn's good reputation.
"What's it like, being a rabbit?" Butters asks when Stan nibbles at a stale cookie.
"I don't really remember," Stan says. "I'm not myself when I'm in that form, not really. It's as if I'm truly an animal."
"But you let Kyle hold you and so forth! I've never seen a rabbit that wasn't nervous and jumping away from people."
"I guess something in me just knows him, and wants to be with him."
Stan and Kyle smile at each other sadly, and Butters' heart breaks for them. Though Stan is strong-looking and Kyle seems intelligent, he doubts they'll be any match for what's waiting for them in the Enchanted Wood, and even if they do survive, there's little chance that they'll run across a charitable witch or a grove of all-purpose curse breaking mushrooms, though he has heard those exist.
"I'd like to pay you for your kindness," Kyle says when Butters refills their tea, "And for your promise of discretion, but I'm afraid I've already given you all the gold I can spare. I have a paltry amount saved for anyone in the Wood who might be willing to trade it for a cure, and I fear it's already too little."
"Don't fret," Butters says, wanting to give them a refund for the nights they'd already paid for, though that would be a very bad idea. If Cartman hears that Butters had guests and has no money to show for it, Butters might get turned into a rabbit himself, or worse. Thinking this, he swallows down his tea awkwardly and had to cough a bit. "This warlock," he says, drawing his fingertip through some sugar that he spilled on the table. "Did he -- what did he look like?"
"Like a big fat lard in fine robes stained with gravy," Kyle says eagerly. "Not much older than us, but losing his hair. You'd think he'd have a spell for that. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, no reason!" Butters' heart started beating fast. That sure sounded like Eric, who sometimes referred to himself as a warlock while drinking.
"He's wanted in my kingdom," Stan says. "For murder, since everyone but my traitorous sister thinks I'm dead."
"I'm sure he's wanted lots of places," Butters says, and he gulps from his tea, though it's too hot for gulping. "Um, I'd think. Since he sounds like a bad guy."
"He's a psychotic mound of dog shit!" Kyle says, and he pounds his fist onto the table. Stan reaches over to rub Kyle's back, which seems to calm him slightly. "And I've no doubt he sold his soul in exchange for his powers," Kyle says, huffing.
Stan and Kyle retire to bed shortly afterward, with plans to leave for the Wood at first light. Butters cleans the kitchen, distracted and sad. Eric has surely been ruining lives like theirs all over the globe for years. How could Butters have ever been blind enough to marry him? Now he's stuck alone, tending an empty inn, hated by the village, watching travelers head into the murderous Wood in desperation because of things Eric has done on a drunken whim.
Butters is barely able to sleep, and he wakes early, hearing Clyde's cart come up the road. It's just before dawn, and Butters imagines Stan and Kyle whispering a tender goodbye to each other in bed, knowing that soon Kyle will be lying beside a rabbit instead of the man he loves. The Wood will surely sense the purity of their connection and fall upon them at once with all its dark powers. Butters feels almost sick to his stomach with sympathy for them as he walks out to meet Clyde, whose cart is full of cabbages.
"Have your guests left yet?" Clyde asks as he dismounts.
"No, they're leaving this morning. Oh, Clyde, they're in an awful predicament! That rabbit--" Butters isn't sure he should say it, but Clyde is no gossip and scarcely speaks to anyone else, except to ask them if they want to buy cabbage. "That rabbit is a prince of East Orange, transfigured by a wizard's spell!"
"Oh," Clyde says, and then he waits for more, but Butters isn't sure what else to say. "Really?"
"Yes, really! I saw his human form! He sheds the curse at night, but is overtaken by it again in the mornings. They're going into the Wood to try to cure him! But I think they must be doomed!"
"Hey." Clyde puts his hands on Butters' shoulders. They're very warm, perhaps from the rub of the reigns on his asses. "Calm down. Let's go inside."
Butters lets Clyde guide him into a seat at the table, and he accepts some tea. Clyde moves around his kitchen easily, familiar with it. Butters so likes the thought that Clyde knows where his sugar is kept that his eyes nearly overflow.
"There, there," Clyde says, dragging his chair close to Butters'. "I'm sure it's not as bad as you think."
"I'm sure it is, Clyde, I'm just sure. And furthermore--" He leans close, putting his lips against Clyde's ear. "I think Eric's the one who cursed them!"
Clyde is pink-cheeked when Butters pulls back, waiting for a reaction. After a moment of what seems like shock, Clyde shakes his head slowly.
"I hate that son of a bitch," he says.
"Oh--" Butters feels as if something in his chest has cracked open. It hurts, but also seems to relieve a tremendous pressure that had been building for years. He nods. "Me too, I think."
Clyde and Butters stare at each other for a long moment, only breaking eye contact when a door is thrown open. Butters assumes it's Kyle coming out of the guest room, but when he turns toward the foyer he sees that it's the front door that's opened.
As if summoned by their mutual hatred for him, Eric strides into the cottage.
"Just what the hell is that cabbage cart doing parked on my property?" Eric bellows in lieu of a greeting. He points toward the front yard. "That thing is a reeking eyesore pulled by a couple of the saddest looking asses I've ever had the displeasure of laying eyes on. It's bad advertising, Butters! Makes this place look like a low rent dump, you understand?"
"Eric," Butters says, standing. His head is spinning, and he feels as if the room has suddenly flooded with cold water, waking him from a nap. "I -- it's been so long, you must be hungry."
"You!" Eric points at Clyde. "Village Idiot! Remove your pathetic inventory from my land at once."
"Yes, sir," Clyde says. The nasal tone of his voice does a good job of cloaking his resentment, although Butters can feel it simmering in the air between them. "Only I'm waiting, you see, for the previous night's guests to check out. They've requested transport to the Enchanted Wood."
For a moment Butters thinks Clyde is brilliant for coming up with this lie so quickly, but then he realizes that Clyde has just damned Stan and Kyle to encounter Eric. Briefly, he understands why the term Village Idiot should be applied to his friend, but when he looks at Clyde in disbelief, Clyde seems unfazed, even calculating.
"Ah, you managed to snare some guests?" Eric says, walking into the kitchen. "Excellent. Where's their fee?"
"The gold is in my bedroom," Butters says. "Shall I--"
Before he can ask to fetch it and use this as an excuse to warn Stan and Kyle to flee, the guest room door opens and Kyle dashes out, clutching Stan to his chest. Stan has reverted from the sizable prince with the hairy arms to a helpless fuzzy bunny.
"You!" Kyle roars, his eyes flashing as if bolts of pure wrath will shoot from them and slice Eric's throat. Butters wishes that were possible, or at least that Kyle had magic, too, something to make this a fair fight.
"I'm sorry?" Eric says. "Do I know you?" His eyes fall on Stan, and his lips curve into a slow, cruel smile. "Ah, yessss! Little prince Stanley, the most regal rodent in all the land! I thought you were dead, my liege?"
"You will undo this curse at once!" Kyle says, shaking with rage. "Or a thousand knights of East Orange will descend upon this place and drag you into a dungeon for the harm you've done to the prince!"
"Ha!" Eric throws his head back and laughs uproariously. "I'm sure. I'll hold my breath until that happens. Ah, but why would you want him to be turned back? You make such a fetching couple like this! Can't he crawl up your ass to satisfy you the way he once did?"
"I will kill you myself!" Kyle shouts, placing Stan down on the floor. He scampers toward Butters' feet.
"I'm too hungry for this trite nonsense," Eric says, lifting his staff. Butters sucks in his breath, wanting to squat down and shield the helpless prince but too terrified to move. "Butters," Eric says, "Cook me some pancakes. Bacon, syrup, and don't bother with any frivolities like fruit. As for you," he says, pointing his staff at Kyle, who doesn't seem to know where to start with killing Eric. "I'll grant your wish. You and your prince can be together again, as equals."
Butters knows what's happened even before the smoke of the afterspell clears. Kyle is on the floor, a strikingly colored but otherwise common looking rabbit, fuzzy and red all over with floppy ears. He hops over toward Stan while Eric laughs madly.
"Eric, please!" Butters says, running over to tug on the sleeve of his robe. "I'll cook you anything you want, but you can't really do this, not permanently! You've had a laugh, they've learned their lesson! Just change them back and forget all about it!"
"Quit bothering me," Eric says, shoving Butters toward the stove. "And get cooking. You should be happy that I've made a pair of pets to keep you company here. If you couldn't make better food than anything I can conjure I would have turned you into a canary years ago, to spare the strain on my nerves."
Butters turns toward the stove, tears stinging his eyes. The rabbits are under the table, huddling together as if frightened. He's almost forgotten that Clyde is still in the kitchen when he hears a tremendous crack from behind him, like someone has kicked the front door in two.
He turns in time to see Eric crumbling to the ground, Clyde standing over him and brandishing a heavy frying pan.
"Clyde!" Butters shouts, afraid that Eric will right himself and turn Clyde into an ass, or maybe a piece of cabbage. But Eric doesn't move. "Have you killed him?" Butters asks, not sure what he's hoping for. It would be a shame for Clyde to tarnish his sweetness with murder, even if Eric was his victim.
"I don't think so," Clyde says, squatting down to check Eric's pulse. "He's alive, just knocked out."
"Tie him up!" Butters shrieks, and Clyde grins, tossing Eric's staff to Butters. Eric is powerless without it.
When Eric has been firmly secured with several ropes from the yard, Butters turns toward the rabbits. They've come out from under the table and are sniffing around obliviously, looking for crumbs.
"Oh, no," Butters says. "How can we help them now? Even if the East Orange knights come to arrest Eric, he'll never right this wrong, not even under torture. He's too proud and too mean."
"We don't need him," Clyde says, gesturing to the staff. "We've got that."
"But not anyone can use a wizard's staff! They have to be trained!"
"Or pure of heart," Clyde says. "That's you."
"Oh -- I'm not, really." Butters blushes, thinking of how he's masturbated to the thought of Clyde entering him, and how greedy for domestic comforts he'd been when he married Eric. "Maybe you should try."
"Nah," Clyde says. "I'm not pure."
"Sure you are! You take care of your old dad."
"Trust me, Butters. I'm not pure."
"How come?"
"'Cause every time I eat at that table I want to put you over it and fuck your ass!" Clyde says, and he seems shocked by his own outburst, his eyes going wide. "Sorry," he mumbles.
"That's alright," Butters says. "Ah -- I mean, wanting that can be pure, in a way. So long as you didn't want to hurt me by it."
"I'd never hurt you," Clyde says, stepping closer. "But I still think you should try to use the staff, not me."
"What if I've thought about it, too?" Butters' face is hot, getting hotter. "About, um. Your wiener and so forth."
"The fact that you call it a wiener speaks volumes," Clyde says, pushing the staff into Butters' hand. "Oh, shit," he says, looking at the rabbits. Stan has mounted Kyle and is giving him all he's got. "Are they having sex?"
"Seems like it."
"I've never seen rabbits have sex before."
"Well, me either, Clyde, but I can't imagine what else that might be."
"Try it now," Clyde says, nodding to the staff. "While they're, uh. Expressing their love. That'll help the spell."
"But what do I say?"
"You don't have to say anything! Cartman didn't say anything when he turned Kyle into a rabbit. Just think about what you want and point the stick."
Butters moans nervously. If he messes this up, Stan and Kyle might be blown to bits. As it is, at least they're obliviously happy, humping there on the floor, still together. But there's something obscene about it, as opposed to what Butters had walked in on when they were both human, which was really sort of tender, if sweaty and loud.
"Here goes," Butters says, hoisting the staff. He puts out his free hand and Clyde takes it. Butters closes his eyes and thinks about Stan and Kyle at his table last night, and tries to picture them growing up together in East Orange, Stan wearing his little prince's crown and Kyle squeezed beside him in the king's throne, kicking their legs and laughing, pretending they ruled the kingdom together. It's such a sweet image, he thinks, holding in tears.
"Butters!" Clyde is shaking his shoulders, and Butters opens his eyes. On the floor, Stan is still humping Kyle, but they're considerably less fuzzy now, restored to their human selves.
"What," Kyle says, still jerking his hips back to meet Stan's dick. "What -- wait. Where are we?"
"Hmm?" Stan says, his face on the back of Kyle's neck. He opens his eyes, looks around, and stops moving his hips. "Oh. Oh, shit."
"It's okay!" Butters says, hurrying to throw the tablecloth over them. "You're okay, you're here at the inn!"
"The inn?" Kyle says. "Oh, shit, where's that fat warlock?"
"He's restrained!" Butters says. "You're safe."
Stan pulls out then, and throws up onto Kyle's back before he can fully disconnect. Kyle shouts and Stan does lots of apologizing, then weeping, and soon Butters is ushering them back into the guest room for privacy and bathing.
"Do you think it will stick?" Butters asks when he returns to Clyde, who is gamely mopping up the vomit that spilled onto the kitchen floor. "The spell, do you really think they're cured?"
"I really do," Clyde says. Butters kneels down beside him and lays his hand over Clyde's on the rag he's using.
"Thank you," Butters says. "You saved us all."
"No, I didn't."
"Clyde, you did so! Now are you gonna put me over that table or take me back to my bed?"
Clyde chooses the bed, and Butters is glad for it, because his orgasm is exhaustively comprehensive, as if every inch of his body has climaxed in one way or another. He's a useless puddle afterward, unable to do much more than smile when Clyde cradles him and praises his performance, though all Butters did was open his legs and shout encouragement. He supposes he did do some pretty good kissing, at least. He's always considered himself a good kisser, a talent that was wasted on Eric.
Arrangements are made for Eric's arrest by the kingdom of East Orange, but he proves to be too obnoxious and loud as a human prisoner, so Clyde turns him into tortoise before nightfall.
"I was going for a rabbit," Clyde says.
"This is better!" Kyle says, laughing with glee.
The following morning, Prince Stan and Consort Kyle leave for their kingdom, promising to spread word of the inn along the road as they travel. They depart with the captive tortoise Eric, and within a week Butters is flooded with requests for reservations, the rumor that a pair of kindly wizards run the inn having attracted much interest. By the end of the year, Clyde and Butters are quite wealthy, and much more popular in town than ever before, though they mostly keep to the inn, preferring the company of their guests to the villagers who once shunned them.
In East Orange, order is restored and Princess Shelly is banished to the Long Beach Barrier Island for her crimes against the Prince. Also banished is Eric, who turns back into a human shortly after his banishment, Clyde's magic not being particularly strong or lasting. There Eric lives out his days as Princess Shelly's reluctant husband, giving her six children who she leaves largely in his care, and it is said throughout the kingdom that this is a fitting punishment indeed.
Kyle and Stan have children of their own, having discovered that the sex they had as rabbits somehow impregnated Kyle with a litter of four. Both are relieved when the babies are born human, though their children can jump exceptionally high and tend to prefer vegetables to roasted game or sweets.
Perhaps due to this dietary penchant, Kyle and Stan's children are known throughout the land for their uncommonly excellent white teeth, something that Kyle never tires of casually mentioning at royal parties.
THE END
HOPPITY HOP, A STAN/KYLE FIC
Summary: Stan is a rabbit, but only sometimes, Butters runs an inn, Cartman is an evil wizard and Clyde sells cabbage.
Though the inn hasn't had a guest in several weeks, Butters still gets up at dawn to start cleaning as if to prepare for a sudden onslaught of tourists. It's partly because he's naturally optimistic, and partly because if Eric happens by -- which is also unlikely, as he hasn't been seen in these lands in months -- he'll blame the inn's lack of patrons on any stray speck of dust he can locate. Butters suspects it's probably his wayward husband's reputation as a heartless sorcerer that keeps the guests away, but he'd never say so to Eric.
His only hope of having a customer is via his only friend from the nearby town, Clyde, who was officially christened Village Idiot after he fell for a mean prank involving an alleged princess who wanted to marry him and make him her knight. Butters thinks it's an unfair title, considering that Clyde was only sixteen at the time, but he appreciates having a fellow outcast to have tea with once in a while, and is also grateful when Clyde can convince someone passing through the village to stay at Butters' inn, which really is nicer than the rowdy one in town that sits atop the pub.
Clyde is a cabbage merchant who uses his cart to taxi travelers about for extra money, and whenever Butters hears the cabbage cart coming up the road -- a distinctive sound, as it's pulled by asses rather than horses -- he's hopeful that Clyde will come bearing a passenger who will want room and board. He grins when he sees that today, that is the case, and he turns back to the kitchen to make sure everything is in place for a guest. It is, as usual: the fire is glowing from the hearth, the front walk is neatly swept and lined with blooming flowers, and his work in the kitchen has filled the cottage with the scent of sweet baked rolls. It's the sort of home that Butters hoped he would have with Eric after they were married. He supposes he technically does have this home, but he rarely shares the bed with Eric, who moved on to new conquests after Butters ripened to the less desirable age of nineteen.
"Hello!" Butters calls out, waving to the grouchy looking man in the back of Clyde's cart. He looks quite foreign and exotic, owing to his wild red curls, expensive-looking cloak, and the fact that he's clutching a fuzzy black rabbit to his chest. "Welcome!" Butters says when Clyde's asses come to a halt. "Have you come looking for a room?"
"Yes," the man says, and he dismounts carefully, brushing cabbage bits from his cloak with one hand, still holding the rabbit with the other. "For two nights. We need rest before journeying into the Enchanted Wood."
"Oh, wow! I know it's close by, but I've never been to the Wood. Are you a magical sort of fellow?" Butters isn't sure what the man meant by 'we,' as he seems to be the only passenger. Clyde dismounts and ties his asses to Butters' fence. He'll be wanting a meal in exchange for the business, but Butters never minds having company.
"Not magical, no," the red haired man says, rather sternly. "We simply have business there. Have you got a room for us?"
"Of course! I mean, ah, yes. Clyde, could you give me a hand with the bags?" Butters wonders if he should take the rabbit, which is a jet black and oddly calm in the man's grip. "Is that something you'd like me to cook for you?" Butters asks, wondering if he caught it near here. "I know a real good rabbit stew recipe."
"No!" The man turns his shoulder toward Butters, scowling. "How dare you presume that I would! This is -- this is my beloved pet. I won't stay here unless you guarantee he won't come to harm."
"Oh, certainly not!" Butters glances at Clyde, who is standing with the man's bags. Clyde is a man of few words, but Butters understands when their eyes meet that Clyde thinks this stranger is odd, too. "I didn't mean to offend you, mister-- Mister--?"
"I am Kyle of East Orange. You may address me by that name."
Butters thinks it a bit odd that such a fancy gentlemen would offer his given name as opposed to his surname, but he nods in agreement and helps Clyde with the bags. At the front desk that he's fashioned out of an old dressing cabinet with the drawers turned toward the wall, he accepts the first night's payment in gold and offers the guest book, which Kyle signs only with his first name and town of origin.
"You," Kyle says to Clyde when he returns from setting Kyle's things in the best guest bedroom. Kyle produces a small silver bowl and sets it on the counter beside the guest book. "Fetch some fresh water for my rabbit. I'll take something stronger if you've got it," he says to Butters, who watches with trepidation as the rabbit makes its way across the counter top and toward the bowl, its little nose twitching. The thing hasn't answered nature's calling yet, but Butters thinks it's got to be just a matter of time. He normally doesn't allow pets, though he has to admit that the little thing looks quite clean, even silky.
"I've got some mulled wine," Butters says.
"Good. I'll take the bottle in my room. We -- I'm craving privacy and quiet, which is why I've chosen this inn over the one in town. I hope you can respect this."
"Oh, sure! Will I see you for dinner?"
"I will come to retrieve my plate at whatever time you serve, but I will consume the meal in my room, if that is acceptable."
"Fine by me," Butters says, kind of disappointed. He likes talking to folks. "In fact, I'll even bring it to you, no trouble." He watches Clyde pour some water into the silver bowl. The rabbit inspects it briefly before drinking.
"Alright, then," Kyle says, plucking the little creature gently from the counter when it's had its fill. He picks up the bowl and nods to Butters, then to Clyde. "Thank you both. I will retire now."
When the door to the guest room is closed, Butters gives Clyde a wide-eyed look, and Clyde smiles.
"Where'd you find him?" Butters asks, whispering.
"Wandering around town carrying that rabbit. I thought he looked pretty lost."
"He's going to the Enchanted Wood!" Butters walks around and takes Clyde's arm, pulling him toward the kitchen, where they'll be able to speak at a normal volume. "I don't know if he'll do very well there. It's a pretty rough place, Eric says."
"I've never been." Clyde walks over to the tin of freshly baked rolls and sniffs them. "Can I have one of these?"
"Well, sure! I've got apple butter, too, you want some of that?"
"You know it."
Butters decides to make a proper lunch of it, and he heats up some cheese soup, sets out slices of salted pork and pours a little beer for both of them. Clyde always has a hearty appetite, which is something Butters admires in a man. He'd loved that about Eric, once.
"He been by lately?" Clyde asks while his face is still half-lowered to his plate. He's eaten four rolls already, with lots of butter and pork piled on them, sometimes dipping them in the soup as well.
"You mean Eric?" Butters says, though he knows that's who Clyde means. Clyde looks up from his food and nods. Butters shakes his head slowly. "No, he sure hasn't. Hasn't written to me, either," he adds, though Eric never wrote, even when they were courting.
"I heard he's in the low country making trouble," Clyde says. "You better look out that his trouble doesn't come down on you."
"Well, what am I to do if it does? I don't have any magic powers like him. I'm a sitting duck, Clyde."
"I'll bring you a sword," Clyde says, returning to his food.
"Clyde! What -- you can't afford a sword, can you?"
Clyde grunts and drags a roll through the last of his soup. Butters grabs the ladle and serves him a little more from the pot.
"I suppose you're right," Clyde says glumly. "But if I find a sword, I'll bring it to you."
"Thanks, Clyde," Butters says, touched, though also dismayed, because Clyde has about as much chance of finding a useful sword than he does a magic lamp with a genie inside.
Clyde stays until dusk, when he must return to care for his ailing father, who has been melancholic since the loss of Clyde's mother. There is a cruel rumor in town that Clyde himself was to blame for the loss of his mother, having accidentally knocked her down the well where she fell to her death, but Butters has never believed that. He sets about making dinner for himself and his guest, in a cheerful mood because of the long day spent in simple conversation with Clyde, and because he'll finally be able to collect a few nights' worth of gold from a customer. Because his guest seems to be somewhat refined, despite his odd devotion to that rabbit, he makes a delicate fish recipe with thinly sliced potatoes and fresh herbs. Twice while cooking he thinks he hears Kyle talking from behind the closed door of his room, and assumes that he's just chattering at that rabbit. Butters can forgive this eccentricity; when Clyde is kept in town by bad weather, Butters sometimes get so lonely that he talks to his cooking utensils as he works.
He approaches with the tray shortly after nightfall, startled when he thinks he hears another voice from within the room, lower and calmer than Kyle's. He knocks, and all goes quiet inside.
Kyle opens the door only slightly, peeking out at Butters. He's changed into simpler clothing and smells as if he's bathed.
"Hungry, sir?" Butters asks, lifting the tray. Kyle eyes it with what seems like suspicion.
"Oh -- yes. I'll take that." He inches the door open just widely enough to get the tray through. Butters can see that he's lit the fire himself and already mussed the sheets, but he can't see whatever Kyle has done with the rabbit. Butters has been slightly concerned; if the animal does damage and Eric finds out, there will be a curse put on rabbits throughout the land.
"I put some things on the side there for your pet," Butters says, gesturing to a bowl of raw vegetables. "Has he got everything he needs?"
"Yes, thank you," Kyle says curtly, and then he shuts the door in Butters' face.
Butters eats his fish and potatoes alone in the kitchen, pleased that the recipe turned out well but sad that his guest isn't dining with him and complimenting the meal. Butters has always been an excellent cook. Eric used to love his rabbit stew, and he once called Butters the perfect spouse. Butters had been so excited at the courtship, and his parents so pleased that a wealthy wizard like Eric took an interest in their simple son. He wants to know where he went wrong, how he lost Eric's affection, but he supposes it's just that he's not as exciting as Eric's travels around the world. Eric has never invited Butters along, but he's not sure he would like all that adventure anyhow. He wants a life here, in this cottage, with someone who comes eagerly to the table for every meal.
At night in bed, Butters thinks of Clyde, and recalls how he'd licked cheese soup from the corner of his mouth several times. He knows it's wrong, because he's a married man, and feels terribly guilty when he begins to imagine grunting and thrusting noises, a headboard slapping against a wall. He sits up in bed when he realizes he's not imagining it at all: it's coming from the guest room.
Fearing that his guest is being attacked by an intruder who slipped through the window, Butters springs from bed, wishing he had a sword. In lieu of one, he takes up a heavy candlestick and creeps toward the guest room, his heart pounding. Whatever is going in there sounds violent indeed, and Butters can hear Kyle's helpless cries through the door. He throws it open with a shout, hoping to startle the intruder enough to put him off his guard for a moment.
The intruder, a large, dark, and somewhat hairy man, is indeed caught off guard, and so it seems is Kyle, who is bent over the bed sideways, beneath the hairy man, who has paused in mid-thrust. They are both naked, splayed and breathless, and neither of them looks glad that Butters has intervened.
"Get out!" Kyle shouts. "At once!"
"Are you -- you're alright?"
"I'm perfectly fine, goddamn you, be gone!"
Butters meets the dark man's eyes briefly, and he looks so mortified and scared that it seems true that he can't be doing anything unwanted. Butters flees, his face burning. He can hear Kyle still cursing him from within the room. He sneaks back to his own bedroom, tiptoeing as if he's the intruder, and by the time he reaches the door the thrusting has resumed, through more quietly.
In bed, Butters lies under the sheets and stares at the ceiling, unwilling to tend to the erection that has developed as a result of glimpsing a sex act that he hasn't enjoyed in over a year. The last time Eric came home, he asked for a hot meal and got so drunk while consuming it that he was passed out immediately afterward. Butters cuddled up to him, but it wasn't the same with Eric unconscious and snoring, and when Butters awoke, Eric was gone again.
In the morning, Butters is up early, having slept poorly after what he saw. He makes enough breakfast for four people, in case Kyle's friend has stayed the night and on the off chance that Clyde, Eric, or someone else will come by. Kyle sleeps late and exits his room alone, again carrying the bunny, which he sets on the breakfast table. Butters bites his tongue to keep from protesting.
"Well?" Kyle says, sitting down across from Butters. "Have you got anything to say for yourself?"
"Ah -- no?"
"Really? You're not going to apologize for barging in on me last night? What kind of inn is this!"
"It's not the sort where we let an extra person stay for free!" Butters says, trying to puff himself up a bit. "If you've got another companion, he's welcome to stay in your bed, but I'll be charging you for it."
"No one is staying in my bed," Kyle says. His face has colored, despite his attempt at nonchalance. "That was a brief visit from an old friend, and he did not use your washing soap, hot water, consume any extra food or any additional resources at all. He was gone before dawn, when our business was concluded."
"Business?" Butters says, because if he's got a whore staying with him he could be fined by the county for operating a brothel.
"Perhaps the wrong word choice," Kyle says. "Nevertheless, I take it I'm still welcome here for another night?" He takes out some gold and lays it on the table. It's slightly more than he paid yesterday. Butters accepts it with a nod.
"I was just startled is all," he says. "I thought maybe you were being attacked!"
"Our love making does have a primitive nature at times," Kyle says, looking pleased with himself. He tears off a bit of cranberry muffin and offers it to the bunny, who nibbles it eagerly.
In the afternoon, Butters washes up and goes into the guest room to change the sheets while Kyle is out. He's taken the rabbit with him, and Butters finds no sign of a cage or little bed for the thing in the room, but also no sign of mess or damage, which is a relief. Perhaps the thing, so dear to Kyle, is well-trained. He does find evidence of what he feels is excessive ejaculation, all over the sheets and in at least one spot on the floor.
When he goes out to pick herbs to dress his lunch, he spots Kyle in a nearby meadow, napping in the sunlight while his rabbit frisks about in the grass, munching wildflowers. He's surprised that Kyle is willing to close his eyes while the thing is vulnerable to hawks, then realizes that Kyle isn't napping at all, only drowsing a bit, his eyelids heavy against the sun. Kyle puts his hand out and the rabbit dashes into it, nuzzling Kyle's palm as if he had called out to it. Something about witnessing this makes Butters feel uneasy and voyeuristic.
Butters lunches alone, sad but not surprised that Clyde doesn't show up to join him. Clyde visits only once or twice a week, the journey from the village not being a particularly short one, and he's usually selling cabbage if not bringing a visitor. Butters is not fond of cabbage but he usually buys some, though Eric positively hates the stench. When Kyle returns to his room he gives Butters a polite but guarded nod, and spends the rest of the day shut in there, at one point taking what Butters estimates, by the sound of it, to be an hour long bath.
Annoyed by the events of the night before, Butters puts less effort into dinner on the second night of Kyle's stay. He uses the remainder of the potatoes and cheese soup to make a kind of impromptu onion pie. Again, he sets aside a bowl of fresh vegetables for the rabbit.
At dusk, Kyle breezes out into the kitchen while Butters is arranging the tray. He seems revitalized by his day in the meadow, or perhaps by that hard fucking the night before. Butters wants to ask who that man was and how he got into the inn, but feels as if he shouldn't. He's surprised that Kyle left the rabbit in the room, unattended.
"That looks delicious," Kyle says, leaning over the tray of onion pie. "Last night's selection was a bit too spare for me. Well-seasoned, but I like a heartier meal, like this. Could I have -- a bigger piece?"
"Well, sure!" Flattered, Butters cuts another sizable square from the casserole and slides it onto Kyle's plate. "Would you like some more wine?"
"Yes, please," Kyle says, and he takes the bottle from Butters' hand before he can produce some glasses for the two of them. "Thanks!" Kyle calls, sashaying toward the guest room with the wine and food. Butters scowls after him, wondering if he's some kind of runaway royalty who thinks every uncrowned person he encounters is a servant in some form or another.
Butters eats several helpings of onion pie himself, feeling depressed. He wanted some of that wine, and is not sure that having guests here is all it's cracked up to be, though he certainly needs the money. The supply of gold Eric left for him last time he was here was hardly generous, and it's dwindling.
He's cleaning the dishes when he hears giggling from the guest room. Suspicious, he dries his hands and tiptoes toward the door, hearing voices now: first Kyle's and then another, spoken low and unmistakably different. He waits in the hallway, his heart beating fast as he tries to decide what to do. Kyle has that man in there again, and they're drinking Butters' wine together, having a fine time, and having a laugh because they think they've successfully cheated him out of a second fee for room and board. Of course Kyle wanted two pieces of onion pie! And no wonder he wants to eat in his room. Furious, Butters walks up to the door and prepares to knock.
Before he can, the sex noises start up again. The door is thin, and he's close enough to hear even the kissing sounds. A kind of profound sadness seems to root his feet to the ground. He would really like to be kissed again someday.
Once the moaning and headboard-thumping starts up, Butters is brought out of his trance. Not wanting to wait until they've had their fun at his expense, he knocks forcefully on the door.
"Shit!" Kyle says from within. Butters can hear them both panting. "What?" Kyle calls.
"I can hear you in there, gentlemen! And I'm rightly owed a second boarder's fee, whether that fella in your bed stays the full night or not!"
There's some muttered conversation. Kyle sounds angry, and the other man is saying that they owe Butters an explanation. Damn right they do!
"Just give us a moment!" Kyle shouts. "For god's sake, man, you wait until the worst times to intervene. It's suspiciously perverse, frankly."
"Kyle," the other man says, scolding. Kyle grunts.
"I will be in the kitchen," Butters says, proud of himself for not backing down, though he is grinding his fists together nervously. "You fellas make yourself decent and come out to pay me what I'm owed, you hear?"
"Yes, fine," Kyle grumbles. "Just leave us be for a moment!"
If they continue their love making, they do so at a volume that is not audible from the kitchen, where Butters lights the fire and puts on a kettle, unable to resist making the scene a bit hospitable. He's getting out some spice cookies as he hears them come in. The cookies are slightly stale, and he tells himself not to fret over it.
When he turns, he sees them both standing in the doorway, Kyle looking defiant and the dark haired man rather cowed and apologetic. He's taller than Kyle, and thicker, and has a handsome face. His clothes are ill-fitting and much less fine than Kyle's embroidered robe, beneath which Butters fears Kyle is naked.
"Well," Kyle says. "I suppose you think you can charge us full price for a second boarder."
"What do you call him?" Butters asks, gesturing to the other man. "A figment of your imagination?"
"I call him Stan. That's his name. But it's more complicated than it looks."
"Wait a minute," Butters says, noticing the silkiness of Stan's black hair, the black fuzz on his arms looking strangely familiar. Butters gasps and jumps backward when it dawns on him. "You -- you're some kinda shape shifter! You're that rabbit!"
"I'm not a shape shifter," Stan says, his shoulders raising sheepishly. "I'm cursed."
"He was attacked by an evil warlock," Kyle says. He puts his arm around Stan, drawing him close and petting Stan's chest with his other hand. "But fortunately his attacker was also a highly incompetent, drunken warlock who does sloppy magic. The curse wears off nightly, at sundown, but it reinstates itself when the sun rises again."
"That's why you want to go to the Enchanted Wood!"
"Yeah," Stan says. "We're desperate for magic. I can't live like this."
"How come a warlock cursed you?" Butters asks, thinking of Cartman, who never has a particularly good reason for putting evil spells on people.
"He was teasing Kyle at a royal party," Stan says. "I came to his defense."
"A royal party?" Butters grins and glances at Kyle. "I knew you were a prince!"
"I'm not," Kyle says. "Stan is the prince. I'm the son of his father's top advisor. We grew up together, and we're--" Kyle glances at Stan, who smiles at him tiredly. "In love," Kyle says, hugging himself against Stan's chest.
"Aw," Butters says. "That's real sweet. But listen, you two. There's more bad than good in the Enchanted Forest. Not just witches and such but trolls, goblins -- and mean little imps who will keep you in there forever if they can turn you around and get you lost!"
"We've got no choice," Kyle says. "I thought at first, when we discovered that the curse would wear off during the night, that we could live with it, but it's not right for Stan to have only half a life."
"You can't tell anyone you've encountered us," Stan says. "Least of all someone from the kingdom of East Orange. Once I was a rabbit, my sister took my place as heir, and she tried to have me killed when I revealed to her that I still had half a human form. Kyle used a rabbit from the kitchens to help me fake my death, but if she finds out I'm alive she'll send assassins after me."
"And he's so helpless as a rabbit!" Kyle says, still clutching at him. "And I'm no warrior."
"Well, that's bad news," Butters says. "'Cause you'll need a warrior with you in the Enchanted Wood!"
"I was in the royal army," Stan says. "We'll travel at night and hide during the day."
Butters shakes his head, because that's easier said than done. He sets out the cookies and pours three cups of tea, wondering if he should mention that he's married to a powerful wizard. He decides he'd better not, since he doesn't know where Eric is, when he'll return, or if he'd be willing to help some travelers for the sake of the inn's good reputation.
"What's it like, being a rabbit?" Butters asks when Stan nibbles at a stale cookie.
"I don't really remember," Stan says. "I'm not myself when I'm in that form, not really. It's as if I'm truly an animal."
"But you let Kyle hold you and so forth! I've never seen a rabbit that wasn't nervous and jumping away from people."
"I guess something in me just knows him, and wants to be with him."
Stan and Kyle smile at each other sadly, and Butters' heart breaks for them. Though Stan is strong-looking and Kyle seems intelligent, he doubts they'll be any match for what's waiting for them in the Enchanted Wood, and even if they do survive, there's little chance that they'll run across a charitable witch or a grove of all-purpose curse breaking mushrooms, though he has heard those exist.
"I'd like to pay you for your kindness," Kyle says when Butters refills their tea, "And for your promise of discretion, but I'm afraid I've already given you all the gold I can spare. I have a paltry amount saved for anyone in the Wood who might be willing to trade it for a cure, and I fear it's already too little."
"Don't fret," Butters says, wanting to give them a refund for the nights they'd already paid for, though that would be a very bad idea. If Cartman hears that Butters had guests and has no money to show for it, Butters might get turned into a rabbit himself, or worse. Thinking this, he swallows down his tea awkwardly and had to cough a bit. "This warlock," he says, drawing his fingertip through some sugar that he spilled on the table. "Did he -- what did he look like?"
"Like a big fat lard in fine robes stained with gravy," Kyle says eagerly. "Not much older than us, but losing his hair. You'd think he'd have a spell for that. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, no reason!" Butters' heart started beating fast. That sure sounded like Eric, who sometimes referred to himself as a warlock while drinking.
"He's wanted in my kingdom," Stan says. "For murder, since everyone but my traitorous sister thinks I'm dead."
"I'm sure he's wanted lots of places," Butters says, and he gulps from his tea, though it's too hot for gulping. "Um, I'd think. Since he sounds like a bad guy."
"He's a psychotic mound of dog shit!" Kyle says, and he pounds his fist onto the table. Stan reaches over to rub Kyle's back, which seems to calm him slightly. "And I've no doubt he sold his soul in exchange for his powers," Kyle says, huffing.
Stan and Kyle retire to bed shortly afterward, with plans to leave for the Wood at first light. Butters cleans the kitchen, distracted and sad. Eric has surely been ruining lives like theirs all over the globe for years. How could Butters have ever been blind enough to marry him? Now he's stuck alone, tending an empty inn, hated by the village, watching travelers head into the murderous Wood in desperation because of things Eric has done on a drunken whim.
Butters is barely able to sleep, and he wakes early, hearing Clyde's cart come up the road. It's just before dawn, and Butters imagines Stan and Kyle whispering a tender goodbye to each other in bed, knowing that soon Kyle will be lying beside a rabbit instead of the man he loves. The Wood will surely sense the purity of their connection and fall upon them at once with all its dark powers. Butters feels almost sick to his stomach with sympathy for them as he walks out to meet Clyde, whose cart is full of cabbages.
"Have your guests left yet?" Clyde asks as he dismounts.
"No, they're leaving this morning. Oh, Clyde, they're in an awful predicament! That rabbit--" Butters isn't sure he should say it, but Clyde is no gossip and scarcely speaks to anyone else, except to ask them if they want to buy cabbage. "That rabbit is a prince of East Orange, transfigured by a wizard's spell!"
"Oh," Clyde says, and then he waits for more, but Butters isn't sure what else to say. "Really?"
"Yes, really! I saw his human form! He sheds the curse at night, but is overtaken by it again in the mornings. They're going into the Wood to try to cure him! But I think they must be doomed!"
"Hey." Clyde puts his hands on Butters' shoulders. They're very warm, perhaps from the rub of the reigns on his asses. "Calm down. Let's go inside."
Butters lets Clyde guide him into a seat at the table, and he accepts some tea. Clyde moves around his kitchen easily, familiar with it. Butters so likes the thought that Clyde knows where his sugar is kept that his eyes nearly overflow.
"There, there," Clyde says, dragging his chair close to Butters'. "I'm sure it's not as bad as you think."
"I'm sure it is, Clyde, I'm just sure. And furthermore--" He leans close, putting his lips against Clyde's ear. "I think Eric's the one who cursed them!"
Clyde is pink-cheeked when Butters pulls back, waiting for a reaction. After a moment of what seems like shock, Clyde shakes his head slowly.
"I hate that son of a bitch," he says.
"Oh--" Butters feels as if something in his chest has cracked open. It hurts, but also seems to relieve a tremendous pressure that had been building for years. He nods. "Me too, I think."
Clyde and Butters stare at each other for a long moment, only breaking eye contact when a door is thrown open. Butters assumes it's Kyle coming out of the guest room, but when he turns toward the foyer he sees that it's the front door that's opened.
As if summoned by their mutual hatred for him, Eric strides into the cottage.
"Just what the hell is that cabbage cart doing parked on my property?" Eric bellows in lieu of a greeting. He points toward the front yard. "That thing is a reeking eyesore pulled by a couple of the saddest looking asses I've ever had the displeasure of laying eyes on. It's bad advertising, Butters! Makes this place look like a low rent dump, you understand?"
"Eric," Butters says, standing. His head is spinning, and he feels as if the room has suddenly flooded with cold water, waking him from a nap. "I -- it's been so long, you must be hungry."
"You!" Eric points at Clyde. "Village Idiot! Remove your pathetic inventory from my land at once."
"Yes, sir," Clyde says. The nasal tone of his voice does a good job of cloaking his resentment, although Butters can feel it simmering in the air between them. "Only I'm waiting, you see, for the previous night's guests to check out. They've requested transport to the Enchanted Wood."
For a moment Butters thinks Clyde is brilliant for coming up with this lie so quickly, but then he realizes that Clyde has just damned Stan and Kyle to encounter Eric. Briefly, he understands why the term Village Idiot should be applied to his friend, but when he looks at Clyde in disbelief, Clyde seems unfazed, even calculating.
"Ah, you managed to snare some guests?" Eric says, walking into the kitchen. "Excellent. Where's their fee?"
"The gold is in my bedroom," Butters says. "Shall I--"
Before he can ask to fetch it and use this as an excuse to warn Stan and Kyle to flee, the guest room door opens and Kyle dashes out, clutching Stan to his chest. Stan has reverted from the sizable prince with the hairy arms to a helpless fuzzy bunny.
"You!" Kyle roars, his eyes flashing as if bolts of pure wrath will shoot from them and slice Eric's throat. Butters wishes that were possible, or at least that Kyle had magic, too, something to make this a fair fight.
"I'm sorry?" Eric says. "Do I know you?" His eyes fall on Stan, and his lips curve into a slow, cruel smile. "Ah, yessss! Little prince Stanley, the most regal rodent in all the land! I thought you were dead, my liege?"
"You will undo this curse at once!" Kyle says, shaking with rage. "Or a thousand knights of East Orange will descend upon this place and drag you into a dungeon for the harm you've done to the prince!"
"Ha!" Eric throws his head back and laughs uproariously. "I'm sure. I'll hold my breath until that happens. Ah, but why would you want him to be turned back? You make such a fetching couple like this! Can't he crawl up your ass to satisfy you the way he once did?"
"I will kill you myself!" Kyle shouts, placing Stan down on the floor. He scampers toward Butters' feet.
"I'm too hungry for this trite nonsense," Eric says, lifting his staff. Butters sucks in his breath, wanting to squat down and shield the helpless prince but too terrified to move. "Butters," Eric says, "Cook me some pancakes. Bacon, syrup, and don't bother with any frivolities like fruit. As for you," he says, pointing his staff at Kyle, who doesn't seem to know where to start with killing Eric. "I'll grant your wish. You and your prince can be together again, as equals."
Butters knows what's happened even before the smoke of the afterspell clears. Kyle is on the floor, a strikingly colored but otherwise common looking rabbit, fuzzy and red all over with floppy ears. He hops over toward Stan while Eric laughs madly.
"Eric, please!" Butters says, running over to tug on the sleeve of his robe. "I'll cook you anything you want, but you can't really do this, not permanently! You've had a laugh, they've learned their lesson! Just change them back and forget all about it!"
"Quit bothering me," Eric says, shoving Butters toward the stove. "And get cooking. You should be happy that I've made a pair of pets to keep you company here. If you couldn't make better food than anything I can conjure I would have turned you into a canary years ago, to spare the strain on my nerves."
Butters turns toward the stove, tears stinging his eyes. The rabbits are under the table, huddling together as if frightened. He's almost forgotten that Clyde is still in the kitchen when he hears a tremendous crack from behind him, like someone has kicked the front door in two.
He turns in time to see Eric crumbling to the ground, Clyde standing over him and brandishing a heavy frying pan.
"Clyde!" Butters shouts, afraid that Eric will right himself and turn Clyde into an ass, or maybe a piece of cabbage. But Eric doesn't move. "Have you killed him?" Butters asks, not sure what he's hoping for. It would be a shame for Clyde to tarnish his sweetness with murder, even if Eric was his victim.
"I don't think so," Clyde says, squatting down to check Eric's pulse. "He's alive, just knocked out."
"Tie him up!" Butters shrieks, and Clyde grins, tossing Eric's staff to Butters. Eric is powerless without it.
When Eric has been firmly secured with several ropes from the yard, Butters turns toward the rabbits. They've come out from under the table and are sniffing around obliviously, looking for crumbs.
"Oh, no," Butters says. "How can we help them now? Even if the East Orange knights come to arrest Eric, he'll never right this wrong, not even under torture. He's too proud and too mean."
"We don't need him," Clyde says, gesturing to the staff. "We've got that."
"But not anyone can use a wizard's staff! They have to be trained!"
"Or pure of heart," Clyde says. "That's you."
"Oh -- I'm not, really." Butters blushes, thinking of how he's masturbated to the thought of Clyde entering him, and how greedy for domestic comforts he'd been when he married Eric. "Maybe you should try."
"Nah," Clyde says. "I'm not pure."
"Sure you are! You take care of your old dad."
"Trust me, Butters. I'm not pure."
"How come?"
"'Cause every time I eat at that table I want to put you over it and fuck your ass!" Clyde says, and he seems shocked by his own outburst, his eyes going wide. "Sorry," he mumbles.
"That's alright," Butters says. "Ah -- I mean, wanting that can be pure, in a way. So long as you didn't want to hurt me by it."
"I'd never hurt you," Clyde says, stepping closer. "But I still think you should try to use the staff, not me."
"What if I've thought about it, too?" Butters' face is hot, getting hotter. "About, um. Your wiener and so forth."
"The fact that you call it a wiener speaks volumes," Clyde says, pushing the staff into Butters' hand. "Oh, shit," he says, looking at the rabbits. Stan has mounted Kyle and is giving him all he's got. "Are they having sex?"
"Seems like it."
"I've never seen rabbits have sex before."
"Well, me either, Clyde, but I can't imagine what else that might be."
"Try it now," Clyde says, nodding to the staff. "While they're, uh. Expressing their love. That'll help the spell."
"But what do I say?"
"You don't have to say anything! Cartman didn't say anything when he turned Kyle into a rabbit. Just think about what you want and point the stick."
Butters moans nervously. If he messes this up, Stan and Kyle might be blown to bits. As it is, at least they're obliviously happy, humping there on the floor, still together. But there's something obscene about it, as opposed to what Butters had walked in on when they were both human, which was really sort of tender, if sweaty and loud.
"Here goes," Butters says, hoisting the staff. He puts out his free hand and Clyde takes it. Butters closes his eyes and thinks about Stan and Kyle at his table last night, and tries to picture them growing up together in East Orange, Stan wearing his little prince's crown and Kyle squeezed beside him in the king's throne, kicking their legs and laughing, pretending they ruled the kingdom together. It's such a sweet image, he thinks, holding in tears.
"Butters!" Clyde is shaking his shoulders, and Butters opens his eyes. On the floor, Stan is still humping Kyle, but they're considerably less fuzzy now, restored to their human selves.
"What," Kyle says, still jerking his hips back to meet Stan's dick. "What -- wait. Where are we?"
"Hmm?" Stan says, his face on the back of Kyle's neck. He opens his eyes, looks around, and stops moving his hips. "Oh. Oh, shit."
"It's okay!" Butters says, hurrying to throw the tablecloth over them. "You're okay, you're here at the inn!"
"The inn?" Kyle says. "Oh, shit, where's that fat warlock?"
"He's restrained!" Butters says. "You're safe."
Stan pulls out then, and throws up onto Kyle's back before he can fully disconnect. Kyle shouts and Stan does lots of apologizing, then weeping, and soon Butters is ushering them back into the guest room for privacy and bathing.
"Do you think it will stick?" Butters asks when he returns to Clyde, who is gamely mopping up the vomit that spilled onto the kitchen floor. "The spell, do you really think they're cured?"
"I really do," Clyde says. Butters kneels down beside him and lays his hand over Clyde's on the rag he's using.
"Thank you," Butters says. "You saved us all."
"No, I didn't."
"Clyde, you did so! Now are you gonna put me over that table or take me back to my bed?"
Clyde chooses the bed, and Butters is glad for it, because his orgasm is exhaustively comprehensive, as if every inch of his body has climaxed in one way or another. He's a useless puddle afterward, unable to do much more than smile when Clyde cradles him and praises his performance, though all Butters did was open his legs and shout encouragement. He supposes he did do some pretty good kissing, at least. He's always considered himself a good kisser, a talent that was wasted on Eric.
Arrangements are made for Eric's arrest by the kingdom of East Orange, but he proves to be too obnoxious and loud as a human prisoner, so Clyde turns him into tortoise before nightfall.
"I was going for a rabbit," Clyde says.
"This is better!" Kyle says, laughing with glee.
The following morning, Prince Stan and Consort Kyle leave for their kingdom, promising to spread word of the inn along the road as they travel. They depart with the captive tortoise Eric, and within a week Butters is flooded with requests for reservations, the rumor that a pair of kindly wizards run the inn having attracted much interest. By the end of the year, Clyde and Butters are quite wealthy, and much more popular in town than ever before, though they mostly keep to the inn, preferring the company of their guests to the villagers who once shunned them.
In East Orange, order is restored and Princess Shelly is banished to the Long Beach Barrier Island for her crimes against the Prince. Also banished is Eric, who turns back into a human shortly after his banishment, Clyde's magic not being particularly strong or lasting. There Eric lives out his days as Princess Shelly's reluctant husband, giving her six children who she leaves largely in his care, and it is said throughout the kingdom that this is a fitting punishment indeed.
Kyle and Stan have children of their own, having discovered that the sex they had as rabbits somehow impregnated Kyle with a litter of four. Both are relieved when the babies are born human, though their children can jump exceptionally high and tend to prefer vegetables to roasted game or sweets.
Perhaps due to this dietary penchant, Kyle and Stan's children are known throughout the land for their uncommonly excellent white teeth, something that Kyle never tires of casually mentioning at royal parties.
THE END