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February 2nd, 2008

[info]accio_arse07:48 am - SHORT BOOSHFIC: silly mpreg crack
Title: Babies are Genius! crossposted to blue_boosh
By: [info]accio_arse
Pairing: Howard/Vince and BABIES!
Rating: It’s harmless crack. PG?
Warning: MPREG! (male pregnancy)
Disclaimer: I don’t own the Boosh in the slightest. But if this disturbs the Boosh badly enough, it may even get into their next series.
Summary: Howard gets himself knocked up.

Based on this photograph of Howard Moon, because he is clearly at least six months gone in it.


Howard shuffled over to a chair in his special arch-supporting sandals and lowered himself very carefully. He laid one hand on his massively pregnant belly. “Yeah, very nice.”

Vince held up a little piece of fabric - purple, pink and gold, and shimmering in the light. He waved it at Howard. “Nice? It’s genius! It’s a baby cape. I got it down Camden market, from this designer. His stall is made entirely from golden spoons once owned by Freddie Mercury!”

“But you were out for seven hours there. You didn’t happen to get anything practical?”

“Yeah! Of course I did!” Vince fished around in his bag and pulled out a miniature glitter suit. He held the suit next to Howard’s stomach. “It’s a bit small now, p’raps. But if the baby just lays off the pies for a while…”

“Too late!” shouted Howard. “It’s started! Oh my God! I just felt my waters break!”

Vince began to bounce up and down on his three inch wedge heels. “I’m gonna be a dad! I’m gonna have kiddies! I’m gonna be able to pass on the secrets of lipgloss and haircare to the next generation!” He suddenly stopped. “Waters? Howard? You haven’t got any waters… do you?”

“Don’t know, Vince! But here they coooooome!”


Howard’s eyes were shifty, looking everywhere but in the direction of Vince. “Yeah. I really don’t know how that happened.”

Vince stood at the end of the hospital bed, his arms crossed, and staring straight at Howard. “Don’t you? Funny, cos I have a pretty good idea.”

The baby Howard was cradling opened its rosebud mouth. It let out a tiny belch, and then, in a distinct Chicago accent pronounced, “Nipple cake sandwich!” At that, the two other babies in the cots by the bed started up as well. Soon, the air was filled with wailing cries of, “Suck on that subsection!” and, “Note to self – pocketcup!”

Vince pointed at the babies. “What’s with the little blue safari suits? Did you really have to dress them all up like that? It’s just sick!”

Howard shrugged. He helped the baby fasten back onto a nipple and looked on fondly as it began to suck. “They just came out like that. If I try to put them in normal babygros, they scream their heads off and call me Mother F.”

Vince wrinkled up his nose. “Well, they ain’t mine, that’s for sure. I tried to put a cape on one earlier and it bit me. Are you sure you didn’t fool around with another bloke?”

Howard immediately welled up in tears. “I just gave birth to your three children, Vince, and you ask me a question like that! I’m wrecked, my hormones are all over the place, I’ve got another two feeds to do, and my nipples are horribly tender already! Men! You just don’t care!”

“No, no, I do care! I’m sorry I said anything!” Vince came over and put an arm around Howard’s shoulder. The polyester blue-outfitted baby in Howard’s arms was now doing some sort of bizarre dance. It involved wetting his tiny fingers, sticking out his body parts and touching them.

Howard sniffed. “You really mean it? You really love our babies?”

Vince set a kiss on Howard’s forehead. “Of course, Howard! Of course I love our babies!”

The door to the ward clashed open. Both Howard and Vince turned round and saw a blue suited visitor, carrying three huge fluffy gorillas. He strode around to the babies’ cots and looked in.

“Hey there, little ones, ain’t you the cutest! You must be the best looking babies there ever was. Yes, sir!" He winked at Howard and licked his lips. "And you can take that from your Uncle Bobby!”


Um.... do I need a disclaimer here to say that I photoshopped this and it never really happened? No, I didn't think so.

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