Rating: PG-13 for naughty language and implied sexing.
Pairing: Puck/everybody. No, seriously.
Summary: The, uh, title is pretty much it.
Warnings: Crack!fic. And mpreg.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never mine. Sark=mine.
Distribution: Ask and ye shall receive. My loyalties are flexible, but stealing from me is not. No touchy or I go all banner ad on your ass.
A/N: This piece of pure unbetaed crack came from an insomnia induced hallucinatory state. I am totally not to be blamed for this, in any way possible!! Also, any resemblance to actual persons is entirely intentional.
It all starts with Rachel storming up to him in the choir room and slapping some papers to his chest.
“The fuck is this?” he yells, even though he knows he shouldn’t, not when she’s got the crazy eyes going on.
“Paternity papers, child support papers, and a contract of my own I had drawn up to ensure that you will be supportive and nurturing during our child’s prenatal development. You will have them signed and back to me by the end of today or I will sic my two gay dads on you,” and with that all done in that crazy shrieky voice, she storms out again.
Puck groans. Aw hell, again? Of course he wasn’t going to pass up the chance to sleep with Rachel, just ‘cause he’d knocked Quinn up. That’s why he had used the condom! And Berry had said she was on the pill!
Still, he’s pretty damned proud with himself. Talk about studliness!
He finds out about Santana when Rachel’s making him hold hands during glee practice.
“Look, Berry,” and shit, Santana’s got a bit of the crazy eyes too, is it fucking catching? “You might be forcing Puck to be your baby daddy and all through contracts and death threats, but you’re not the only one carrying his child, okay?”
“Fine,” Rachel says, letting go of his hand. “I suppose it’s important that my child’s father is also bonding with his siblings.”
Santana grabs his hand. “Ugh. Just ‘cause they’ll have the same dad, doesn’t make our kids siblings, Berry. Keep your freaky spawn away from mine.” And then she’s pulling him away and it doesn’t really hit him until they’re at the door that holy fuck, Santana’s preggers too, but he’s getting pretty used to this, and besides, Santana will be a fucking awesome mother.
Puck actually figures it out before Brittany does, because he’s totally knowledgeable about this girl stuff now (thanks Berry). Seriously, though, Britt should be the easiest to deal with, but she’s always bugging him about shit like ‘is she getting fat’ (duh).
Still, he’s pretty chill with being McKinley’s biggest stud, having four baby mamas hanging off him all time…until they started to deny him sex.
“This is totally unfair bullshit!” he yells. “Come on, ‘Tana, you want me to die from blue balls?”
“Ick, I’m too fat to get naked, ask Berry,” Santana replies.
“Um, excuse me, Santana, but I am three weeks further in gestation than you, and thus much heavier and less attractive,” Rachel shoots back. “Besides. I have heartburn.”
“Fuckin’ women,” he mutters, then turns to Brittney. “Britt, babe? How ‘bout you?”
“I thought we weren’t gonna do it until we were absolutely sure the baby doesn’t see it. Are you absolutely sure?” And no, no he isn’t and shit! He was out of options.
He manages to fuck both Mercedes and Tina when they’re away at Regionals, and fuck, why hadn’t he been doing this soon? Sure, they’re freaky glee nerds, but freaky glee nerds are fucking awesome in bed!
Oh yeah, he’s definitely got his groove back. In a badass way.
Except the universe is totally fucking with him.
“Not you guys too?” he groans. Mercedes and Tina both grin and shit shit shit, they’ve already got that soft girly look that the others had already perfected.
“We’re gonna raise them as twins,” Tina says proudly.
“”Well, we figured since they were conceived at practically the same time, they’ll be born around the same time!” Mercedes answers.
“Great,” Puck mumbles into his hands. “Sounds fucking great.”
Mercedes and Tina both giggle and turn to go. “Oh, and Puck,” Mercedes says over her shoulder. “Santana told us that sex gives you more stretch marks, so we’re gonna have to stop fooling around. You know how it is.”
Oh, how fucking fabulous.
After two weeks, he’s almost ready to blow his head off. He’s never gone this long without sex before. And suddenly he’s fucking untouchable with all the other chicks in school, ‘cause no one else wants to get pregnant. It’s like they put out one of those STI warnings on him! How’s he supposed to get off if there’re no chicks to fuck?
He shoulda thought of this sooner, except he’s never done anal before, and he’s never ever wanted to do it with a guy.
But he’s Puckzilla and he really needs sex and Kurt actually does have a sweet little ass. And he’ll never fucking admit this to anyone, but holy shit is it good. And the best part?
He can’t knock dudes up. Win/win.
“Okay, I’m not the smartest guy in the world,” Puck yells, “but how is this physically fucking possible?”
“Ugh, excuse me, why are you complaining? You are not the one who is marring his perfect skin with stretch marks,” Kurt answers, rubbing his bulging abdomen.
“Yeah, you can stop yelling, and run for more snacks. Bring pickles. Oh, and those awesome corn dog things from 7-11,” Finn says, before stuffing another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.
“Dude,” Matt grabs the Lays. “Stop hogging the food! ‘Cause I’m pretty sure I got twins in here.”
Puck groans. He’s been doing that so much it’s like his default noise now.
“Hey, so Puck,” Mike grins at him. “Berry told me you gave ankle and back rubs when she was preggers. Why you holding out on us?”
“Do you have two gay dads who have a shotgun and a shovel?” Puck snarls.
“Then you don’t get shit.”
“Oh.” Artie looks bummed. “Because being in this chair all day, my back is really killing me.”
“Alright, fine!” Puck shouts. “Artie gets backrubs, but only because he’s in the chair. And Finn, I’m not buying you any more fucking corn dogs! Christ!” He storms out.
For fuck’s sakes, he was never gonna get laid ever again. What use was being a badass stud who can get anyone pregnant if all it was gonna do was make him fucking broke from child support and baby clothes and supporting Finn’s stupid corn dog habit?
And then it hits him. He could…and then it would…and then…fuck yeah!
He’s so fucking brilliant.
Sixteen years later…
Puck sits back in his chair with his most badass smile on his face. Life was fucking awesome when shit worked out for him. He eyes the sexy brunette reporter sitting across from him and decides he’ll invite her to stay over after the interview. For a more…intimate look at him.
The reporter looks at the camera. “Hello America. I’m Becca Kiniels, bringing you an exclusive interview with the infamous Father Puck, the man whose semen is so fertile, it can be used to impregnate both men and women, solving infertility crises all over the nation. I’m here live at New Directions Ranch, where Father Puck lives with his 11 partners and his over 150 children, living off the billions his fruitful seed has made him.”
Becca turns to him, with a smile. “So, Father Puck, can you tell us how this all began?”
“Well,” he says, “it all started when my high school Spanish teacher decided to take over the glee club…”
THE END (lol)