Kyle never thought he'd end up on his hands and knees in front of Cartman, naked, and mostly willing. But here he is, the rough concrete floor of Cartman's basement scratching into Kyle's hands and knees, making him ache, as Cartman orbits around him slowly, inspecting him, grinning.
"Well, well, well," Cartman croons, drumming his fingers together pleasantly against the protruding bulge of his stomach. "I guess you're not as stupid as I thought."
Kyle grits his teeth. It's hard not to respond, but he refuses to play into Cartman's game any more than he has to.
"I had already made the preparations," Cartman continues. He stops his pacing and turns away from Kyle, and Kyle can hear papers rustling as Cartman grabs something off an old, wooden table in the corner.
Cartman faces him again with a triumphant grin, a thick stack of papers in his hand, and Kyle's face burns with shame. He looks away, focusing on the floor, trying to forget about what brought him here.
"Oh Stan," Cartman says mockingly, his voice high and sickeningly sweet. "The things I'd do if you were mine. If I could have you under me. I'd hold you down and make you moan my name, make you crave me, make you forget about everyone else but me."
Kyle's vision is blurred with thick tears of shame as Cartman laughs loudly, hysterically, head thrown back with mirth. "Honestly, Kyle," Cartman says, his laughter cutting off abruptly. Only the faintest hint of a smile remains on his face. "Who actually keeps a diary?"
He approaches Kyle again, the pounding of his boots loud against the floor, and Kyle hates himself for feeling a prickle of fear. Cartman crouches down in front of him and grabs Kyle's chin, forcing him to look up, to face the hundreds of Xeroxed copies of his fantasies.
"Little girls," Cartman says, answering his own question. "Little baby girls keep diaries. Are you a little girl, Kyle?"
Kyle growls and tosses his head, freeing himself from Cartman's grasp. "Can we just get this over with?" he says tensely. Every moment in Cartman's presence makes Kyle sick under normal circumstances, but like this, exposed and defenseless, his fate resting quite literally in Cartman's pudgy hand – it's too much.
"I call the shots here," Cartman says gleefully. "Or these–" he shakes the stack of paper for emphasis "–go up all over the school. And then I'll get to sit back and watch your straight best friend abandon you. I win either way, Kyle, the choice is yours."
Kyle didn't know what Cartman would ask for once he had him alone, but now that Kyle's clothes were tucked away in a closet, far out of his reach, Cartman's intentions were painfully clear. But, as much as it pained Kyle to think about it, Cartman knew how to drive a bargain, and when he was right, he was right. Stan was straight; he had a girlfriend. He'd never trust Kyle again if he found out that Kyle was thinking shit like this every time they were together; that Kyle spied on him when he showered and got off on it later.
All of that information was in the diary. All of it. Every sick detail. And Cartman had read every word. The diary itself was sitting on the table, bookmarks sticking out of it, ready to be passed back to Kyle if he goes along with Cartman's scheme.
"You know my choice," Kyle says tightly. It's hard to speak, hard to breathe; it feels like he's selling his soul. Judging by the sick smile on Cartman's face, that's exactly what he did. From now until the end of the day, he belongs to Cartman. The thought makes him shudder violently.
"Well, then," Cartman says, pleased. He gets back up, tossing the copies back onto the desk. "Let's inspect the merchandise, shall we?"
Kyle's nerves feel like they were set on fire, his heart racing so fast it feels like it might give out. Fight or flight has fully kicked in as Cartman moves in on him, and it's so hard not to give into the instinct to run, the onslaught of emotions leaving him shaking as Cartman says, "Get up. On your knees."
It's so hard to do even that much, but Kyle manages somehow, swaying in spot as Cartman once again kneels before him, putting them at eye level.
"Look at these titties," Cartman sneers, grabbing a nipple between two fingers and pinching it. Kyle lets out a pained moan, jerking away from the touch. "And you always called me fat. You have a B-cup, at least." Kyle's skin is burning, pink and ashamed, and Cartman's hot, moist hand cups the swell of Kyle's left tit, squeezing it firmly and giving it a hard shake, his fingers biting in roughly to Kyle's untouched skin. Cartman releases him and leans back, watching the following jiggle.
"Disgusting," he declares. He leans back in and grabs both of Kyle's tits, yanking him forward and squeezing so hard. Kyle can't help but cry out, twisting against Cartman's grasp.
"I think you're a girl," Cartman says, his grip tightening. Just like that, before Kyle can fully push away, decide that it's too much and leave, Cartman releases him, and Kyle's little breasts throb. "Are you?" Cartman prompts, and Kyle's brain scrambles to remember the question.
Maybe he's taking too long, or maybe he never had a chance, because Cartman leans in and pinches his nipples again, twisting them, making Kyle whine. "Are you a girl, Kyle?" Cartman asks again, harshly.
"Yes," Kyle moans out, squeezing his eyes closed.
"Say it," Cartman commands, twisting sharply in the other direction.
Kyle lets out a dry, involuntary sob, reminding himself of why he's doing this, why he wants this. If he doesn't go through with it, he and Stan are finished forever.
"I'm a girl," he says waveringly, just above a whisper.
Cartman smirks, satisfied, and releases Kyle's nipples. "Good," he says. "Good girl."
His eyes rake down Kyle like a hungry animal, and it makes Kyle's skin crawl in ways he can barely fathom. It's disgust primarily: complete and utter hatred. But the way Cartman's eyes linger on Kyle's dick, the way he rubs his hands together as if a feast were spread before him – it makes the burning beneath Kyle's skin tingle in a way that's almost pleasant. It's so sick and wrong, and he hates Cartman so much, and Kyle hates himself for even entertaining the thought that anything about this could be good.
"Oh, but what's this?" Cartman asks with mock curiosity, picking up the head of Kyle's dick between two fingers, as if it were something dirty. It's the first time Kyle's dick has ever been touched, and he can't help but jerk at the feeling, even if Cartman is wrinkling his nose at it.
"It's so small," Cartman says dismissively. He lifts it up and lets it drop, and it falls limply against Kyle's balls. "That doesn't interest me."
Cartman gets back up, moving behind Kyle. "Down," Cartman commands. "On your hands and knees again."
Kyle does what he's told, all but falling back onto his hands as his strength gives out, the rough concrete cutting his palms. His senses are overwhelmed. It was bad enough with Cartman in front of him. But back there, out of Kyle's sight – it only makes him more aware of how vulnerable he is, how sick Cartman is.
Rough hands land on Kyle's ass, squeezing his cheeks. "Yeah, look at this," Cartman says, and Kyle can hear the smirk in his voice. "So this is what everyone has been lusting over." Cartman snorts, disgusted. "The best ass in school."
Kyle lets his head drop, hanging shamefully between his shoulders, hating himself for ever gaining that title.
"Too bad Stan's not interested, huh?" Cartman says sneeringly, smacking Kyle's ass. Kyle jerks at the sudden impact, the residual sting making him bite his lip to hold back any sounds.
"Well, anyway," Cartman continues conversationally. "Let's see what you've got hiding in here, hm?"
Kyle's shaking his head weakly, uselessly, as Cartman roughly spreads his cheeks apart, letting the cool air of the basement swirl between them.
Kyle can't think of a time he's been more ashamed. Cartman says nothing, the silence stretching for what feels like hours, just staring at his asshole. It's tingling wildly at the attention, flexing and relaxing against Kyle's will – all he wants to do is keep it still, to give Cartman no reason to mock him. But the more he tries the more his muscles spasm, and Cartman is just sitting there watching the whole thing.
"That's so sick," Cartman announces finally, but he's spreading Kyle's cheeks wider, so much that it hurts, and Kyle can feel his hole stretching into a line.
Cartman laughs shortly. "It's like a little pink flower," he says disdainfully, his hold relaxing a little, though he keeps Kyle spread. "Let's see if it smells like one."
"Oh my god," Kyle whimpers plaintively, as he feels the soft fat of Cartman's face push between his cheeks. Kyle's arms give out, folding beneath him, and he rests his forehead on them as tears leak out of his eyes, his ass high in the air as Cartman theatrically breathes him in.
"Nope," Cartman says finally, leaning back and letting go of Kyle's ass. "Not at all."
Kyle holds his position, too ashamed to show his face, too horrified to move.
"Maybe you don't know this," Cartman says casually, and Kyle hears a loud clicking sound behind him, like a plastic box opening. "But I'm actually something of a neat freak. And, well, let's just say I refuse to play with a dirty ass like yours."
As Cartman finishes his speech, he pushes Kyle's cheeks apart again, this time using one hand, his fingers stabbing Kyle's supple flesh. Something cold and damp descends on his hole, and it hits him that Cartman is actually wiping him – broad, slow swipes down Kyle's crack, the end of the wipe brushing against his balls – and there's nothing Kyle can do to stop the series of chokes sobs that fight their way from his chest.
Cartman has the wipe pulled tight over a single finger, and Kyle can feel it swirling violently around the outside of his hole. Cartman forces just the tip of it inside, twisting it around and cleaning the rim, and it stings so much. Kyle's sobbing openly now as Cartman hums to himself, and probably the worst part of it all is that Kyle's dick is hanging hard and heavy between his legs. He knows Cartman can see it, that Cartman knows he's somehow fucked up enough to get off on this, and Kyle wants to delete this whole day from existence, because he'll never be able to face Cartman again.
"There we go," Cartman singsongs, and he tosses the wipe up near Kyle's face. Kyle flinches away from it, turning his head. "All clean."
Cartman spreads Kyle wide again, leaning in and sniffing. "Like a little fresh flower," Cartman says.
He smells it again, taking his time, sighing pleasantly, and Kyle's whole body is shaking so violently he thinks he might collapse.
"Tell me, Kyle," Cartman says, circling his finger teasingly around Kyle's hole, making it twitch sensitively. "When is the last time you took a shit? Do we need to clean out the inside, too?"
"No," Kyle moans, his voice wavering pathetically. "God no. It's fine, just – please, it's fine."
Cartman sighs sadly. "You know, I just have a hard time believing that. If I had asked, you would have said the outside was clean, too."
"Please." Kyle can't stop repeating himself, begging, over and over in the same pathetic little whimper. "Please don't, it's fine, please, it's clean."
"I guess I'll take your word for it," Cartman says with theatric hesitance, as Kyle forces out a sob of relief. "But if you're wrong…" Cartman's voice twists with devilish glee. "You'll pay." He slaps Kyle's ass again, hard, a clear warning. Kyle whimpers, squeezing his eyes closed.
"Alright," Cartman says. He moves from behind Kyle, wandering back over to the table. Kyle wants to move, wants to lay down and get out of this horrible position, but as if reading his mind, Cartman says, "Stay still. Keep your ass in the air."
Kyle obeys, and it's still so painful to do, because he could easily punch Cartman in the face and make him cry; he could leave all of this behind and continue with his life. But it would be a life without Stan, and that's a life Kyle would never want.
As Cartman returns, loudly pulling on latex gloves, letting them snap menacingly around his wrists, Kyle lets out an involuntary whimper. He has a box tucked under his arm, and it's rattling, full to the brim with stuff Kyle doesn't want to know about. Surely Cartman wouldn't do anything to hurt him permanently, but Kyle can see Cartman's twisted, psychopathic side coming out more and more, and Kyle can't help but be a little afraid as Cartman settles down behind him again.
"Let's play a little," Cartman says with faux innocence. "Hold your ass open."
Kyle does, pressing his cheek against the cement as his hands move back to spread his cheeks apart, hating himself.
Cartman laughs. "What a good little whore. You want it bad, don't you?"
Kyle doesn't respond, and Cartman slaps him hard, right over the sensitive skin of his crack, making him cry out.
"I want it," Kyle moans reluctantly. "I want it."
There's a squirting sound, like something being squeezed out of a tube, and then Cartman says, "Then let's open you up."
A fat, blunt force pushes at Kyle's opening, sliding in with a slick slide of lube. Kyle groans, trying to get used to the sensation, as Cartman begins to shove his other index finger inside, lined up beside the first one. He curls his fingers into hooks that press into Kyle painfully, and then Cartman is forcing his hole open, wider and wider, and it aches and Kyle is twisting on the floor, moaning, simultaneously trying to escape it and trying to force himself to adjust.
"Look at that," Cartman says. "You just opened right up for me, didn't you? Such a fucking slut."
Cartman snorts deeply, hocking, and he spits a slimy blob that Kyle feels seeping inside of him and oozing down his balls. Kyle's hole tries to flinch closed instinctively, desperate to shut out any and all traces of Cartman, but Cartman's pudgy fingers keep him spread open, vulnerable to anything.
"I'm gonna force you open," Cartman says. "Fill you up until you cry."
Kyle's already crying, has been for a long time now, and either Cartman hasn't noticed or he doesn't care. Either way, Kyle knows nothing is going to stop this until Cartman is ready for it to stop.
Cartman releases Kyle's ass for the moment, and Kyle's hole aches so bad as it tries to return to its original shape. But he feels overstretched, like a frayed rubber band, and this twisting, stabbing throb is only about to get worse.
"I stole this one from my mom years ago," Cartman says, and judging by the sound, he's lifting something out of the box. "I knew one day I'd get to shove it into you. So do me a favor…" Cartman pauses and Kyle feels him line something up with his hole, hard plastic, just the tip pushing inside. He can already tell it's way bigger than Cartman's fingers, that it's going to open him up so much wider, and he doesn't know if he can take it.
"And tell me how it feels," Cartman finishes, and then whatever it is is being forced inside of Kyle, pushing its way in without hesitation, and it's long and wide, and when the first set of bumps push past the rim of his ass, Kyle lets out an embarrassing squeak.
"Yeah?" Cartman scoffs, pulling the toy back out and letting the bumps rub against Kyle's rim again. It feels like it's tearing him open, that each of the bumps is a tiny knife ripping into him, tearing him apart.
"I can't," he chokes out, as Cartman starts moving it faster, the stimulation overwhelming him. He's trying to push it out, because he feels so full, and the sensation is becoming weirdly pleasurable and he doesn't want to get hard again. But then Cartman shoves it inside him fully, the whole length of the toy, five rows of bumps tickling his insides one after another, and Kyle screams.
"Good?" Cartman prompts, leaving it buried in him.
"I – yeah." Kyle knows Cartman doesn't care about the truth, that he only wants to hear answers he'll get off on, but this wasn't exactly a lie.
The pressure changes as Cartman releases the toy, and Kyle can feel it moving slightly, already trying to slide out of him a little.
"Push it out," Cartman commands.
Kyle pushes, straining his muscles, and it feels so good as it begins to slide out of him, like taking a dump after holding it for too long. The first set of bumps get caught on the inside, and he squirms uncomfortably, trying to work around them, and Cartman's laughing at him, making Kyle's face burn.
Kyle pushes harder, making little strained sounds, and then the toy flies out in one quick rush that makes Kyle gasp, a squelching, fart sound rushing out after it.
"Haha, sick!" Cartman roars, and Kyle can feel his hole gaping. "Let's smell it, did you make a mess?"
Cartman leans back in, sniffing loudly, the tip of his nose pressing against the gape, and Kyle's hole winks sensitively.
"You're a little stinky, Kyle," Cartman scolds, as if talking to a small child. "I'm disappointed."
He picks up the toy, sniffing that, too. "God!" he chokes, gagging dramatically. He shoves it in Kyle's face. It's a bright pink, bumped dildo, just like Kyle imagined – but it's not nearly as big as it felt.
"Smell it," Cartman snaps. "See for yourself how fucking filthy you are."
Kyle doesn't want to, because this is too much, Cartman's going too far, but Cartman grabs Kyle's hair and yanks his head forward, holding the dildo to his nose, the slick, leftover lube rubbing across Kyle's face.
He doesn't smell much besides a dull mustiness and the scent of the lube and the plastic, but Cartman's glaring down at him, holding Kyle's hair so tight that he can feel a few strands snapping out.
"It stinks," Kyle whispers waveringly, just so Cartman will release him.
Kyle braces himself, waiting for Cartman to spank him again, but it never comes. Instead, Cartman is hooking a collar around Kyle's neck, attaching a leash, and suddenly Cartman is yanking him forward, demanding him to follow.
Kyle releases the hold he still maintained on his ass, and it's throbbing horribly, and starts to push himself up.
"No," Cartman snarls. "Crawl."
And Kyle does, crawling along the floor like a dog, as Cartman leads him to the basement bathroom. Cartman locks the door, and hooks the free end of the leash to a towel rack.
"Lay down. On your back. Knees up."
Cartman has a whole enema kit set up already, and he must have been planning this since the very beginning.
"Please no," Kyle tries, though he assumes the position, hating himself for doing this, for still being so fucking hard.
Cartman ignores him, filling up the bag with water.
"Cartman," Kyle says, as firmly as he can despite his position. "Please."
"You agreed to this, Kyle," Cartman says calmly, hanging up the bag. He turns his attention to the insertion tip, dabbing a bit of lube on it. "You play by my rules, or you lose Stan."
That stings, and Kyle turns his head away from him, glaring angrily at the wall as tears cloud his vision. "You're so sick."
"I'm just cleaning you up," Cartman coos, kneeling between Kyle's legs. "What's so sick about a little hygiene, hm?"
Cartman slides the tip inside of him, and it's nothing compared to the dildo, and for a second Kyle thinks he might be able to handle this. Then the water starts to flow, and it's freezing, rushing into him faster than it should, and Kyle groans loudly, thrashing against the bathroom floor as the cramps wrench through him.
"Take it," Cartman says. "Take this whole bag, that's your punishment."
"I – I can't," Kyle tries, but his words are lost under his breathy gasps. He's never felt anything like this before, the water rushing into him feels so wrong, so foreign, and he already fills so painfully full, like he's going to explode at any moment.
"Don't spill a drop," Cartman says darkly. "You're going to hold it until I say."
It's so hard not to push the water out, his hole is so stretched and numb, keeping it squeezed tight around the nozzle is the hardest thing Kyle's ever done. He presses his cheeks together, his toes digging into the floor as he grasps for leverage, anything to help keep himself shut as he's filled up like a water balloon.
His stomach is starting to visibly rise with the amount of liquid that's been forced into him, and Kyle moans plaintively, watching it in horror, squirming and thrashing as much as he can without breaking the seal between himself and the nozzle. The cramps are wrenching his insides, the coldness making him hurt so much, and he feels so small, so weak and vulnerable.
And then it's done, somehow, the bag is empty and Kyle feels the flow weakening before it stops completely.
Cartman leaves the nozzle in him for a moment, staring down at him. Kyle's whole body is pinky and sweaty, and he can't stop twisting, curling in on himself, as if he can somehow squirm away from this horrible feeling, and Cartman seems to be enjoying every second of Kyle's discomfort.
"Hold it," Cartman warns, and then he slides the nozzle out, and Kyle feels a few little drops dribble out of him, but Cartman lets that slide.
Kyle's shaking his head, trying to show that he can't do this, but he's afraid to even talk. It feels like the smallest thing could cause him to explode, all of the water shooting out of him at once, and he doesn't want to know what Cartman would do.
His whole body is shaking with the pressure, his aching, exhausted hole trembling with effort, and Cartman is perched up on the counter, resting his chin in his hands, watching the whole thing.
"I wish I had brought my camera," he sighs. "This is something I'd like to watch again and again – instant classic."
Kyle wants to glare at him, but all he can do is groan brokenly as another cramp surges up, and he tries to curl in on himself, but that forces a little gush of water out his ass.
"You're leaking, Kyle," Cartman says disinterestedly. "I'd be careful if I were you."
Kyle's only saving grace is that it doesn't take long for Cartman to get bored, even though it feels like an eternity before Cartman unties the leash from the towel rack, giving it a yank. "Get up. On the toilet."
It's so hard to move, and water is dribbling freely down Kyle's legs as he forces himself to stand, and then he throws himself onto the toilet, resting his head in his hands and letting out a sob. There's a considerable wet spot on the floor where he had been laying, a little trail of drops that followed his path.
Cartman only makes him suffer for a moment longer, water tinkling out of his ass, before he says, "Let her rip." He barely finishes the command before Kyle lets go, water and air rushing out of him thunderously, splattering into the toilet.
It's such a relief, and Kyle is moaning wildly through the whole thing, head thrown back as he breaks out in another cold sweat, shuddering with each burst of water that shoots from him.
When he's finished, Cartman pulls him from the toilet, and Kyle is shaking delicately, disoriented by the myriad of sensations rushing through him. Cartman closes the lid and sits down on it, pushing Kyle across his lap, ass in the air, and Cartman's wiping him again.
"What a good girl," Cartman croons, the cold, wet wipe sliding over Kyle's hole and making him moan, his hips jerking a little against Cartman's thigh. "All nice and clean." Once again, Cartman gives Kyle's hole extra attention, swirling the wipe around it, and Kyle's so out of it that he feels oddly comforted by the praise, his eyes drifting shut as Cartman tends to him.
"Let's smell her again," Cartman coos, throwing the wipe away. He pushes Kyle up making him stand. "Turn away from me and bend over."
Kyle does, and Cartman's hands land on his hips, guiding him backward until Cartman can sniff his ass, inhaling deeply and sighing. "My clean little girl. You're sanitary enough to eat off."
As if to prove the point, Cartman's tongue swipes up Kyle's crack, circling around his hole, and Kyle cries out, his dick surging to life. His knees buckle, but Cartman's hold on his hips is strong, keeping him in place, and Kyle claws at the wall, desperate for something to hang onto.
"Mmm, yeah," Cartman sighs, his breath gusting against Kyle's dampened hole. And then Cartman goes to town on him, his lips closing around Kyle's hole, his tongue darting into the stretched opening, tasting the inside, swirling around. Kyle's hips are jerking wildly now, his cock dripping with need, and Cartman's moaning as if he's having a feast, like Kyle's ass is the best thing he's ever tasted, and he's ravenously eating it, his teeth grazing against sensitive flesh, and Kyle's in heaven.
And then Cartman's pushing him away, turning him around, and Kyle watches as Cartman unzips his pants, releasing his short, fat cock – pink and hard and glistening.
"Suck me off," he says. Then he looks up at Kyle, his dripping erection, and he grins. "She's so wet, isn't she?" he croons, pulling the leash to guide Kyle forward and then pushing him to his knees. "She likes pleasing her master, doesn't she?"
Kyle nods, because he knows he's supposed to, staring at Cartman's ugly cock.
"Say yes," Cartman commands.
"Yes…"
"Yes, sir," Cartman corrects sternly, grabbing Kyle's hair and yanking him closer, so close that his lips are brushing Cartman's dick.
"Yes, sir," Kyle whispers.
"Good girl." Cartman releases Kyle's hair and pets it back into place, stroking him like an animal. "Now suck."
Kyle's never had a dick in his mouth before, but he's fantasized about it for so long that it's a creepy sort of second nature to suck Cartman's dick into his mouth. Kyle isn't fond of the taste, because it's sweaty and distinctly Cartman, but he's so horny, so undone, and he bobs up and down on it as if it's what he's always wanted, his cheeks hollowing out with each sharp suck.
"Yeah," Cartman groans. "Yeah, that's good, good girl, just like that…"
Kyle grabs Cartman's balls and squeezes them as his mouth works Cartman's dick, and he pulls back, licking just the head of it, the tip of his tongue teasing the slit, and he feels kind of vindicated when Cartman lets out a very unmanly squeak.
And then he's coming, short little spurts that splatter across Kyle's face and his lips, and Cartman yanks on the leash, which Kyle takes as a cue to take the head back into his mouth, sucking on it like a straw, as his hand pumps the rest of the cum out.
"Such a slut," Cartman comments dazedly. "Dirty fucking cumslut. Look how bad she wants it."
Kyle moans as he pulls away from Cartman's softening dick, a thick strand of saliva still connecting them.
"Get up," Cartman says, although his voice has lost some of its bite – he's tired now, going through the motions. "Stand against the wall and get yourself off."
Kyle pushes himself up, his shaking legs barely wanting to hold him, and he leans against the wall heavily as he grips his dick, pulling on it vigorously.
Cartman is watching unabashedly, his eyes locked on Kyle's cock, and that's all it takes for him to come, shuddering as his orgasm rushes through him, cum splattering over his stomach and Cartman's pants.
"Good," Cartman says. "Yeah, that's good. You can go."
Kyle reaches up and fiddles with the collar, looking for the clasp. "The diary pages?"
"I'll burn them or something," Cartman says, waving his hand dismissively. "Just go, I'm done with you."
They don't talk as Kyle frees himself and gets his clothes, although Cartman stares at him piercingly as he dresses, as if he's committing every angle of Kyle's body to memory, and despite all that's happened, Kyle still feels humiliated.
He leaves without a word, looking forward to having a normal day with Stan tomorrow. He's no longer thinking about Cartman as he gets outside, already fishing out his phone to get in contact with Stan, making up an excuse as to why he's been out of touch all day.
If he'd looked back, he would have seen Cartman staring at him from the window, looking vaguely sad. Vaguely lonely.