I do not own South Park. If I did, Stan and Kyle would be gay lovers, and Cartman would be dead.
Unbreakable - Dip
"Cheerio, Damien~!"
That high-pitched voice… I hate it so much, it's not even funny. It pierces the air like a spear pierces the flesh of a fish. It reminds me of an angel's voice, and I want absolutely nothing to do with angels. I'm the anti-Christ, for crying out loud! Why in the fuck would I want anything to do with that Goddamn British bastard? He's annoying! He's a pussy! Aaaaand he insists on bugging me nonstop every-Goddamn-day! It's like he's trying to piss me off!
I've tried every which way to break him on several different occasions. I even pretty quite literally handed him over to the Hellhounds in gift wrap for Christmas one year. But yet he remains as cheerful as ever. I don't know how he's managed to escape his downfall thus far, but I will break him one day.
Even if it's the last thing he does.
I'm sitting on my throne in hell when that annoying British fuck skips by, happy as ever. Upon seeing me, his cheeks seem to catch aflame and he smiles at me like I'm the Virgin fucking Mary. It pisses me off to no end knowing that, despite everything I've done to him, he still likes me. And I don't mean in a friendly way. Ohhh no. I mean in the lovesick high school girl kind of way. I don't know why the fuck he likes me; I'm not exactly the nicest person around, after all.
I'm lost in my fantasies of one day finally breaking that bastard's spirit when said teen walked up to me and chirped out some annoying greeting or another. I never truly bother listening to him. Too much hassle on my part. But, as I was saying, he skipped his way up to my throne and said something in that shrill-as-hell (no pun intended) voice of his to me. I looked at him without actually looking, if you know what I mean, and for some reason, his girly features and enflamed cheeks caused my pants to grow a bit tighter. And this, in turn, caused an idea to form in my mind to break his spirit. And it all depends on how persuasive I can be…
"Hey, Pip," I murmured in greeting to British fucker, my voice taking on a dangerously seductive husk to it. I flushed him a wicked grin, which caused him to become so flustered, I know my plan was going to work at. No way he could resist me now.
"O-Oh, hello, Damien!" the blonde squeaked, his words seemingly stumble over his tongue. He looked up at me shyly through his eyelashes, the liquid blue of them barely showing through. My God, he is waaay to fucking girly.
"I'm glad you stopped by," I continued once he'd quit speaking, "I have a…ah…problem I need your help with." I smiled wearily and swept my hand in the general area of my crotch in a gesture to show that I meant that kind of problem. His gaze followed my hand, then trailed down to my crotch. It lingered there for a moment, then swept back up to my face with a blush on his face.
With an air of understanding, he got down on his knees at my feet, and my weary smile widened into a victorious smirk. My plan was working… He unbuttoned and unzipped my pants with what seemed like skilled hands that I took no notice of. Giving me a shy glance up through his eyelashes, he took my length in his mouth and set to work.
I gotta say, he's very skillful. He seemed to know exactly what to do, where to do it, and when to switch from mouth to hand. It intrigued me to know how he learned all that for a moment, but then it hit dawned on me: My plan had backfired and I hadn't broken him at all!
MO. THER. FUCK.