A/N- So this is a roleplay I'm doing with a lovely girl named Lex. XD
Uhhh... as a warning, it's very dark and terrible in the beginning, with child abuse, molestation, things like that. If you can't stomach terrible, terrible things, you probably want to skip this one. So like, consider yourself warned and don't be flaming and stuff over the content. That out of the way, I hope you enjoy it, or at least that you can get through it. The rest of the story will be much less sickening... for the most part.
Oh. And South Park does not belong to us.
It wasn't really rare for Butters to wake up at night, always at some odd hour far past his bedtime. Of course, there were various reasons as to why the petite blonde would find himself awake beneath the powder blue comforter, the light of the moon illuminating small patches of his room while making the shadows only darker, casting him into a bedchamber that was no longer that of his own. Nightmares were the most prominent cause to his late-night wakings. After that came the sound of strange things outside his window, which, he would often find to be nothing more than a cat, the wind, or Cartman. But tonight it was neither of those things, the boy was simply thirsty.
He twisted, and turned, snuggling deeper into his sheets as he attempted to forget the dryness that painfully took over his mouth, his throat, his lips. Butters was simply too exhausted, too comfortable in the warmth of his bed to leave for a cup of water. Though, before long he found himself no longer cozy, his thirst outweighing the warmth in this situation. There was no longer any reason to stay in this bed. He padded down the halls as quietly as he could, creeping softly down the stairs until he reached the kitchen. The cold tiles bit at the remaining warmth the bottoms of his feet held, moving slowly through his body until his milky skin was covered in goosebumps.
Before his teeth had the chance to chatter, he was downing a fresh glass of tap water quickly, his eyes closed as he re-hydrated the best he could. With a smile, the blonde hummed a small tune under his breath, helping himself to a second glass. This one he sipped at, allowing his azure eyes to travel around the darkness of the kitchen. But wait - it wasn't really as dark as it should be. He located the problem. There had been a light left in the den, it's warm yellow glow falling onto the linoleum tiles of the kitchen - a detail he had previously missed in his grogginess.
"H-Hello?" He tiptoed into the light of the den, peering into the room to try and find the source. Butters kept his voice low, clutching the his glass with both hands, "Is anyone here? Ah-Dad?"
In his old wing-back chair in the corner of the den, Stephen Stotch dozed restlessly. In one hand he held a half snifter of bourbon. In the other, a rolled up gay porno magazine. He'd been having trouble sleeping, ever since Linda had discovered his little habit of going out and fucking random men. When Butters called out in the semidarkness he stirred and grunted, one eye opening. "... Butters? What are you doing up at this hour young man?"
"N-nothin', Dad. I jus' needed some water was all," Butter's bright eyes gauged his father warily, only hoping that this late-night interruption would not be deemed punishable. His tiny fingers tightened their grip around the glass of water as he tried his hand at an apology. "Sorry for wakin' you, I didn't know...I wasn't sure if you were down here. I-I'll just get back to bed now," The blonde's feet refused to move, as much as he wanted to back away, to escape quickly back into the warmth of his bed sheets. He didn't want any lecture tonight, he just wanted to sleep.
"No, wait." Stephen was thinking as he woke up a little more. There was something he'd been toying with in his mind ever since he'd been found out and had to stop going out and getting his ass pounded. "Come on in, Butters. I want to have a talk with you. And...lock the door when you come in."
"O-okay." Butters did as he was told, closing the door behind himself and turning the lock into place with a crisp metallic click. Then he turned and padded over to his father's chair, climbing up into his lap. "What do you need to talk to me about?" His father started to rub his back lightly, and he leaned into the touch, happy for a bit of affection.
Stephen kept rubbing against the nine-year old's back, his eyes on his son's. "Well, you asked before if I was sore at you about it... and to be honest Butters, I wasn't at first, but I really miss going to those places, seeing my friends, and...wrestling with them." His tone was soft and a little scolding, deceptive and manipulative. He'd been thinking about ways to get more sex on the side for days now, and he'd kind of run out of options. There was always Butters though, and his son was damned easy to use. Not to mention with the right wording, he'd be very unlikely to tell anyone. He already knew his brother had felt his son up at a family reunion once.
Butters frowned, his eyebrows knitting upwards in concern, eyes cast downwards. "Gosh, Dad. I'm sure sorry. I never meant to take all those things you liked so much away from you." He looked back up to his father apologetically, wringing his hands together in a nervous fashion. The blonde wasn't quite sure where this was going, but a conversation starting with disappointment could never end well.
"Well. you know, Butters. You could help me out with that. You could wrestle with me instead." Stephen suggested, his smile turning more eager. "Of course, if your mother found out she'd likely go crazy and try to kill you again, so it'll have to be between us, but I'll feel SO much better..." He explained.
Butters brightened up. His father just wanted to wrestle? Why, he could do that. "Sure I will, dad!" He said, grinning. He didn't understand why it was that his father didn't want his mother to know that they had wrestled together, but he decided to leave it be. At times, his father could be a bit...peculiar, it seemed.
"Good." Steven's patience slipped a bit and he grabbed the boy's ass more pointedly. "It might hurt, since you have to follow my rules and I'm gonna pin you so good..." Just thinking about it was making him hard, and Butters could probably feel his cock twitching. "We have to get naked first." He added, starting to push Butters out of his lap. "Go on." He added, already shrugging out of his robe eagerly.
"Uh... alright!" Butters agreed as he was pushed out of his father's lap, figuring it was just part of the game. After all, when he had seen his father wrestling with the other men, they were naked, too. It must have been normal, right? Yeah, right. So he undressed quickly, his pajamas pooling on the floor around his ankles before he stepped out of them.
Stephen moved to stand up, freeing his erection by pushing down his pants and boxers in one smooth motion. "Come on, Butters." He said excitedly, taking the boy's upper arm, "We'll wrestle on the couch." And with that he dragged the child over and pushed Butters down. "You know...this'll be more fun for you, Butters, if you lick my ...wiener first. It'll go in easier." He suggested, having a hard time containing himself in his excitement. "Go on..." He said, kneeling facing the little blonde and putting his hands on either of his cheeks, pulling small lips toward his weeping cock.
There was one thing Butters was sure of now, and that was that this was no wrestling match. The blonde's face drained in color as he was pushed down on the couch, horrified by the vivid excitement that danced throughout his father's eyes eyes - and cock. And now, as his father forced him closer, he closed his bright blue orbs, far too stunned and scared to do anything other than directed. Hesitantly, his pink tongue drifted clumsily along Steven's shaft and to his head, cheeks returning in color only to burn with an embarrassment of sorts, mixed with the deepest sense of confusion. 'Oh, hamburgers...'
Steven let out a low, pleasured moan, head falling back a bit. His hold on Butters' hair lightened and he let his son do with it what he would, sometimes hissing an instruction or bit of praise. He seemed like a completely different person at the moment, and Butters had every reason to be embarrassed and confused. "Try to get it in your mouth," He demanded, hauling Butters up a little. "You get it good and wet or you won't walk right for a week, it'll hurt so bad..." He threatened.
Butters couldn't really comprehend the noise that came from his father. Was he hurting him? It was difficult to tell with eyes closed, too fearful and ashamed to take a peek. He followed his father's instructions blindly, continuing to lap at his hardened member, only opening his eyes when his father warned him, lifting him slightly. The boy didn't understand why his vision was blurry as he glanced up to his father's crazed face before looking back to the cock in front of him, but any other could speculate that it was due to the heated tears that were forming in his eyes.
Reluctantly, Butters did what he was told, unable to clearly protest, fearing for the pain his father had mentioned, whatever form it took, would only be worse if he did so. His little mouth opened as wide as it could, only to circle around his father's erection, wincing as he fought a gag once he could no longer push his mouth around it any further.
Steven groaned again, petting at Butters' hair. He could feel the child's spit running down his pulsing cock, and decided enough was enough. Sticking two of his own fingers in his mouth he pulled Butters off his cock and turned him around, bending him over the arm of the couch. Large, rough fingers circled around Butters' tight little ring of muscles before one roughly intruded, worming around to help force it's way in.
Butters squirmed as his father turned him around, flinching uncomfortably as he felt the moist fingers toy with his backside, the water that had formed in his eyes finally falling into tears. "H-hey s..sto-AH!" He yelped in pain, though it was more in shock, as the first finger entered, silencing whatever small amount of speech Butters had previously attempted to make out, only eliciting a small whimper of fear and discomfort. He was beyond confusion at this point - when you begin to feel things moving inside you, it's best to just give up trying to figure anything out.
Steven just laughed, though the act of stretching him out a little first was really a kindness. Leaning out of the way he spat on Butters' ass, and it dripped down to meet where his finger was now shoved inside his son. "You've gotta be quiet." He said, smirking and giving a particularly vicious twist of his finger, now buried up to his knuckle, "Or mom'll kill you. Remember that."
"Nnnff..." Butters bit his lip, hoping it would keep away the sound, though to be honest, death was beginning to sound better than this...this...whatever this was. But it was too late to turn back now, ribs digging into the armrest, flinching at the twist of his father's finger. He had to force back a yelp. He could only pray that it would all be over soon.
Steven continued to stretch him in a bit of a rush, spitting on his hole now and then to keep it at least a little slick. When his patience ran out, he pulled his fingers out of Butters and wiped them on the boy's back. "Bite down on the cushion." He commanded, grinning and placing his cock against the boy's already abused entrance. "Can't have you screaming." Giving Butters time to comply, he gave himself a few strokes, hissing in pleasure with his weeping tip just touching the boy's puckered muscle.
A gasp escaped the boy in a sense of relief for a mere moment as the fingers left him, though it was short-lived, the sound of his father's voice sending a whole new fearful shiver through him. But Butters did as he was told, following what seemed to be the trend of the night. His white teeth, some of them still baby-teeth, dug deep into the fabric of the sofa's cushion. Keeping his eyes shut tight, he tensed, bracing himself for what would seem to be, the worst night Butters would ever encounter.
Steven gave him a minute to get ready, smirking again. He almost seemed to be waiting for the boy's tension to build up, the anticipation of the pain to really bother him. Then he was forcing himself into Butters' resisting hole, first slowly. Once he had his tip in though, he snapped his hips forward and forced it all at once, feeling the tortured flesh yield as he buried himself in the boy's heat, shuddering. The poor, broken body beneath his larger one was still trying to purge itself of him, Butters' torn skin and stretched muscles tightening to push him away. It didn't work, but it sure as fuck felt amazing. "Butters..." Steven moaned.
With his breathing pattern hoarse and weak with pain and sobs, Butters tried to escape of his father's moan behind him, the sound only drawing him back to the reality that he was trying his best to avoid facing. The cushion had did it's job in keeping his squeals half-muted, muffling them into silence as squirmed to the point that he could no longer, exhaustion forcing his limbs into the stillness of submission. He burrowed his face deep into the fabric of the sofa, left soggy with tears, whimpering a choked and hushed plea ever so often. They were inaudible even to himself, however, his heart and breath racing too fast and loud for him to hear much of anything else.
Stephen didn't seem to notice or care how much he was upsetting his son. He withdrew partway from the boy's ruined little hole, glancing down at the blood now smeared on his cock, and grunted, ramming into him again. Soon he was pounding away, holding onto the writhing body beneath him while he used it for his pleasure. It didn't take long before the tight, wet hole was drawing out his orgasm, and he spilled his seed into his son's body, half collapsing onto his pale back and gasping for air, giving his hip a smack for good measure. "Damn..."
He winced as his father came, the warmth that filled him taking the boy aback, stinging at the fresh wounds. Even once the thrusting had come to an end, Butters continued to whimper, wondering how long it would take for him to suffocate if he kept his face buried in the sofa cushion. Was it over? Would ever be over? Even if he had the strength, he was to afraid to move, to speak. To do anything. He just lay there, hiding, shaking.
Steven pulled his softening cock out of his son's abused ass and sat back on the couch, sighing happily. "I win." He said, and laughed. Then he smacked Butters' ass again. "What are you doing laying there? Go get cleaned up and go to bed. And remember, if you tell anyone, you'll end up dead. We don't want that, right?"
How could he laugh like that? So cheerful. Butters tried to block the sound of his voice, though it was to no avail. Slowly, Butters shifted to sit once his breathing pattern settled slightly, still hiccuping with shaky sobs ever so often. He hissed at the pain, each movement sending a sharp shock through his body. He felt as if he had been torn in two from the inside out, every action he took sending him closer to the moment he would fall apart completely.
"N-no...sir. I-ah...I won't tell any...anyone." It's not like he even knew how to explain what had just happened, this wrestling match. He stared across the floor to where his forgotten pajamas lay, wondering just how he would ever make it over to them, let alone to the bathroom, or his bedroom. His mind didn't even dare wander to the next day at school. Maybe he could feign an illness. No one would know. Weakly, he hobbled off the sofa and to his clothes, one of his hands swiping viciously at the tears that stained his red face. "G-Goodnight, Dad."
Suddenly, Stephen seemed to take notice of just how much pain his son was in. His face softened, that smirk falling mostly away. "...Butters? Do you need some help, son? I know it hurt you, but you made me really happy. It won't be so bad next time, come here..." And getting up, he moved easily over to his son, holding his arms out, a shocking contrast to the way he'd acted only minutes before.
Butters looked at his father skeptically for a moment, unsure if he could really trust him. It could have been one of those little white-fucking-lies he had loved so dearly. But as he held out his arms, he found he had no choice but to stumble towards him. This was his father. He loved Butters, right? It wasn't like he would ever harm him on purpose. He made him happy...
"N-next time...?" He looked up at Stephen, wiping some of the fresh tears that continued to fall off his cheeks with is free hand. So it wasn't the end. Would there ever even be an end? He shook the question out of his head before he had the chance to dwell on it. "You promise...it won't be as bad?"
"I promise, Butters." Stephen assured, folding the broken little boy into his arms. "You'll even like it someday." He added, rubbing the child's lower back and settling him on one hip, gathering their clothes. "I like it, don't I?" He pointed out, kissing Butters' cheek and carrying him off to wash the evidence of his sin away.