AN: Ok, sequel to Father Knows Best, took a little longer than planned. More notes at the end, hope you like it! Please review! Oh yeah and I don't own South Park, Trey Parker and Matt Stone do...lucky bastards.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed/reviews and special thanks to

nightingale27: Thanks! I like seductive Kenny too, it's fun :) Haha and yeah, I couldn't think of any way Stuart would actually have a full out convo about it, so he got drunk and blunt instead.

Hazins: Yay perversion! Yeah, Kenny is a perverted little bastard, but he's our perverted little bastard! XD, and much thanks for multiple reviews, I really appreciate it!

CrissyPalXD: Haha, your review made me laugh out loud, that's what I live for :-p

Lily Ann: Thanks! Plenty of Kyle molestation to come!

After two weeks of being on the receiving end of Kenny McCormick's sexual advances Kyle Broflovski had come to one definite conclusion.

Kenny was fucking terrifying.

He had become very certain of this, so certain in fact that he was sure it should jump past theory and be categorized as a scientific law. It was simply undisputable.

Kyle had assumed that because of their friendship Kenny would relent after Kyle had unequivocally shot him down. He had assumed that by the end of the week Kenny's jokes, or what he hoped to God were jokes, would die down. He had hoped that Kenny would leave Kyle in peace after witnessing just how uncomfortable, and freaked out, he had become. He had prayed that because they had known each other since preschool Kenny would stop eye-fucking him every time they crossed paths.

Unfortunately for Kyle Kenny didn't seem to share his sentiments.

For half a week Kyle had been subjected to winks and vague sexual innuendos, things that were disquieting but harmless enough. Around day three, however, Kenny had decided to up the ante: touches that lasted just a few seconds too long, various body parts that kept "accidentally" brushing up against his ass, feeling the need to whisper into his ear instead of just speaking to his face like a normal human being. Kyle seemed to be the only one who was concerned though and the scene played out the same: the blood would drain from Kyle's face, Kenny would play innocent, Cartman would roll his eyes and call them fags, and Stan remained oblivious to Kyle's precarious predicament.

The fact that even Stan couldn't, or wouldn't, help him was kind of pissing him off. All he had done when he saw Kyle's pale face was stop to ask, "Dude, are you sick or something?" leaving Kyle in the awkward position of having to choose between sounding like an overreacting prick or keep his mouth shut while he watched Kenny's eyes flicker with somewhat malicious amusement. Needless to say there had been a lot of teeth-gritting that week.

Afraid for the sake of his teeth, his ass, and his super best friend's neck as he restrained himself from throttling Stan into awareness of the situation, Kyle had determined that there was only one way to save himself. Hide out until Kenny had given up on his little "I'm gonna fuck Kyle come Hell or high water" mission.

As far as he was concerned it was all for the best. He stayed safe and sane and avoided any fallout by avoiding the awkwardness all together. Everyone would be happy. Well, maybe everyone except Kenny, but right now he really didn't give a rat's ass about satisfying Kenny in any way, shape, or form.

Kyle had been so sure in the perfection of his plan. He had felt so superior in his victory. His smugness was immediately laid to waste though when he realized he had forgotten one important detail.

Stan, at times, could be a whiny little bitch.

Kyle loved Stan, knew all of his wonderful qualities and quirks and wouldn't have traded his friendship with his lifelong friend for anything. That still didn't keep Stan from having some really fucking annoying habits.

Just as much as Kyle's stubbornness and self-righteousness pissed off Stan, Stan's willful obliviousness and subsequent bitching and moaning pissed off Kyle.

The first day Stan called and whined about his conspicuous absence he had rolled his eyes and refused again to leave his house.

The second day he rolled his eyes, gritted his teeth, and told Stan once again that he would not hang out.

The third day he snapped at Stan to leave him the hell alone and got into a brief argument with his best friend.

When they were speaking again on day five Stan changed tactics. Instead of hounding Kyle he had decided to resort to the "cheap shot" method of persuasion. Guilt.

Seventeen years under the wing of Sheila Broflovski had rendered Kyle nearly helpless to guilt. He hated how stereotypical it was, how pathetic it made him feel, but try as he might the result was always the same. He caved. With most people he could stay strong if the guilt trip was brief and relatively unconvincing, but there were two exceptions to this rule: Sheila Broflovski and Stan Marsh.

If his mother guilted him he was dead in the water before it even began. In Stan's case it was a little different. Depending on the situation Stan's first attempts at guilt may have gone unheeded. The problem lay in how well Stan knew Kyle. Stan knew that Kyle, with persistence and a sad face would be unable to deny him anything. For having no sexual interest in him Kyle was fucking whipped by his best friend. The only thing that gave Kyle comfort in moments like these was the knowledge that Stan was just as whipped for him.

It was that on day three of Stan's guilt attack, day seven on his vow of social celibacy, that Stan finally cracked Kyle.

Kyle had been sitting aimlessly at his computer when his phone had rung. He had looked down and sighed at the ID shining on the screen, the light stingingly bright as though fueled by Stan's own insistence.

"What?" His greeting had been short and curt; he wanted to prolong his self-pitying solitude for a few more days…or weeks.

"Aw, come on dude! We haven't hung out all week!"

He gritted his teeth. He felt his resolve crumbling in spite of his irritation.

"And I don't want to now Stan. Bye."

"Wait! Kyle, come on dude. What the hell is wrong?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his desk chair and tried to ignore the flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

It had been two weeks and one day since he had learned about his "family curse". And two weeks and one day since Kenny had apparently made it his goal to jump Kyle's bones; from which he could only deduce that it had been two weeks and one day since Kenny had heard a similar story from his own dad. It was pretty damn creepy to think about. And it caused him discomfort on multiple levels.

"Come on Kyle. I miss hanging out with my super best friend."

There it was, the clincher. It was so cheesy, so gay, but it worked. Stan had uttered the last sentence so soft and pathetically that Kyle could practically see the pleading look on Stan's face.

Stan knew him too well. He was fucked.

He sighed, "Okay. Just stop being all emo-goth, you big pussy."

Stan let out a little whoop of victory through the phone…it reminded him of Kenny. His fading blush grew again.

"Sweet dude, what do," but Stan was cut off.

"But just you and me."

"Okay," Stan's voice was laden with confusion, "Why?"

"Just cause. You have to swear on it Stan."

"What? God, and I'm the one being a pussy?"

"Just swear on it." Kyle was adamant.

"Alright, alright. I swear Kyle it'll be just you and me." Stan sounded sincere.

"Do you swear on your life?"

"Yes Kyle, I swear on my life." Stan sounded sardonic.

"And do you swear on Jesus?"

"Sure Kyle, I swear on Jesus." Stan sounded impatient.

"Now do you swear on Moses?"

"Jesus Christ Kyle! I swear on my life, Jesus, Moses, and the fucking sanctity of our friendship! Is that goddamn good enough?"

Despite the dripping sarcasm of Stan's question, there was a pause over the line as Kyle seriously considered it.

"Kyle, I promise. Just get your ass over here." Stan's voice was casual again, but oddly muffled.

"Aw gross dude, you're talking while you're eating? Fine, I'll come over, just don't do that while I'm there, it's disgusting dude."

Kyle could feel the roll of his friend's eyes.

"Fine. See ya."

So despite some hesitance and annoyance Kyle had ventured from the safety of home turf. Eventually he was actually happy to be at Stan's. It was nice, normal. Just the two of them playing video games and ripping on each other was comfortable territory. Kyle had actually felt himself begin to relax and enjoy himself. As long as Stan didn't question him he didn't have to think about Kenny here. Shooting zombies on a plastic screen was a great distraction from obsessive thoughts about close friends and sexual conquests.

All in all it had been a pretty good day. By the time the pair headed downstairs for food he'd nearly forgotten all about curses and McCormicks and Broflovskis.

But then, of course, it all went to shit.

He knew he shouldn't have reacted the way that he did. In reality it was ridiculous to think that Stan's dad had also been a part of this whole fucked up situation. He groaned as he felt a blush creeping in, the memory of his departure fresh in his mind.

Great, I just convinced Stan I was okay and then I had to do that.

Stan may have backed off before, but Kyle knew it wouldn't last. Well, at least not after his little performance this afternoon. If he didn't end up getting a call tonight Kyle knew he would be in for it tomorrow morning at the bus stop. For once in his life Kyle prayed that Wendy would butt in and monopolize Stan's time and attention span.

He stared up at the ceiling and studied the glow-in-the-dark star stickers there, the remnants of his fast-ending childhood. His thoughts were whirling inside his skull, thick, heavy, and dizzying.

Even if he managed to avoid Stan's questions tonight there would be no escape tomorrow. And Kenny would be there and there was no escaping him either. Skipping school wasn't an option…and neither was playing sick. Being stuck at home with his mom sounded just as bad, maybe worse, than Kenny's game of "grab ass". No, he was stuck for sure, somewhere between a rock and Kenny's "hard place". All he could do was pray that Stan would forget and Kenny would keep his hands to himself.

Though lately neither seemed likely.

Kyle rolled onto his side and pulled his knees closer to his chest. In the deepest depths of himself he could feel a pit of something writhing in him. It was somewhere just below his stomach, warm and prickly, a combination of fear and a feeling he didn't want to name.

Stan's questions scared him. Kenny scared him. What scared him most, though, was this feeling he couldn't, or wouldn't, name. It was the reason he didn't mind Kenny's advances as much as he claimed. It was the thing that reared its head when Kenny smiled, or winked, or brushed up against him. Even if it was only slight, he felt a want to give into Kenny. He could feel it like a compulsion, a driving force that made it necessity more than desire. It fucking terrified him more than anything he had ever felt before. This thing…this feeling was new and unknown and he didn't want anything to do with it.

He knew what it would be like if he gave in to it.

There were two possibilities and he could see both all too clearly. At best Kenny might disregard the whole incident afterwards, staring in disbelief at Kyle later as if to say, "What? You thought that meant something? Why would it mean anything?"

Or, of course, there was the worse option.

Kyle could see Kenny laughing his ass off, wiping tears from his eyes as the laughter became magnified by everyone else he knew. Everyone would be laughing at him, howling at the idea that Kyle had given himself to Kenny. He would be like a pig to the slaughter, a giant joke played on him for the cruel amusement of others.

Kyle didn't know Kenny as well as he knew Stan, but he still knew him. Kyle knew Kenny well enough to know his angelic man-boy appearance didn't always match his demeanor. Kenny's golden blond hair and deep blue eyes only emphasized his childish face. His voice had remained a light tenor, masculine but octaves above his alto-voiced friends. The sparkle of his eyes and his crooked grin couldn't help but add to the boyish charm that he exuded from every pore. There was an air of innocence that managed to cling to him even after you had learned what a pervert he could be.

But there was an imp in that angel's face.

Kenny also pulled pranks and cursed worse than any sailor. Kenny knew more about sex than anyone his age and most people twice his age. Kenny's temper could be rash and abrupt without warning. There was a streak in Kenny's sense of humor that teetered on malicious.

Kenny could be base. Kenny could be perverted. Kenny could be crude, rude, and almost cruel, but still, he was Kenny. Underneath it all there was a vulnerability and sweetness that shone through. There were moments when you couldn't imagine anyone as selfless and loyal as Kenny existed. Kenny was Kenny. Love him or hate him that's what he was, plain and simple.

He could be the smirking Devil one minute and two minutes later he'd smile and have you convinced he was as pure and innocent as a new born babe.

Kenny would never try to destroy him, Kyle knew that, but they were different here. Kyle didn't brush off things like Kenny did, especially when it came to sex.

If I give in…there's…there's just nothing good there.

He could feel his heart beating a little faster, his breath quickening. His despair was turning into a hyperventilating fear. He needed to rally against everything in him, every single little twisted cell that wanted to give into Kenny even microscopically.

He couldn't give in. He just couldn't

No…no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!

"No," it was whispered in a puff of breath.

Air filled his lungs as he inhaled deeply and held it. A moment passed as a change overtook him and he let the captive air escape his lungs with a whoosh.

Green eyes closed momentarily and then opened. The change was instantaneous and momentous. Any trace of fear and confusion had been wiped clean from him. His mouth was set in a tight line, his eyes defiant; his muscles were tense with determination. He unfolded and stood. He strode to the bathroom, stopping in front of the medicine cabinet mirror. As he gripped the sink he peered in, watching the movements of his face. Fierce resolution was the only emotion visible there, the only betrayal of its superficiality a slight glint in his eyes.

He studied his face until he was satisfied. Finally he broke his self-directed gaze with a sigh as he pushed himself from the sink. He would succeed at this. It was like any other problem he'd faced. All he needed was logic, perseverance, and will power.

I can do this, I can do this.

Now all he had to do was face Stan and Kenny first thing tomorrow morning.

Fuck.

AN: Okay, first chap done. It took a little longer than planned cause I had an infection, I'm brainstorming stuff right now so hopefully I'll have the next chapter done and out soon. This was kinda like a prelude so others will probably be longer. This story is going to be slightly more serious, but still trying to be funny, than Father Knows Best but hopefully y'all still like it! Thanks for reading! Please review!

Oh, P.S.: If you want a song that's really a theme of Kenny's perversion, listen to this or read the lyrics. 'Whipped Cream' by Ludo. I don't own the song...but I do love it.