Heartbreaker.

Chapter One - Nut Case.

I wake from an amazing dream about girls, to the sound of Kade's loud, grating snore. I sigh and, resisting the massive temptation to throw one of my boots at his head, I sit up. Brushing a hand through my blonde hair, I look about the room that I have been living in for the past two months. The same four gray walls. The same dark metal door.

Nothing has changed. I can't really say I expected it to. I look over to my room-mate, Kade and see him hugging his god-damned teddy bear again…and snoring. I swear, if that dude doesn't fix his snoring - I'll do it for him, and I'll hurt him for sheer entertainment. I'll break his stupid little button nose if I have to!

I throw myself backwards to lie on my pillows again and squint at the clock. I blink a few times until my eyes become adjusted to the dark and see that the clock reads; '9:15 AM'

Well, he gave me 15 minutes more than he did last night. I WANT TO GO HOME.

"My name is Kenny McCormick. I am 20 years old and I am a sex-addict."

That it what I wrote on a slip of paper as soon as I got here. It was so degrading. It's embarrassing to even think about!

At this moment, as much as I miss all the people in South Park, I really want to punch Kyle. He's the main reason that I was forced to come to this hell-hole.

When we left school everything was perfect. Kyle had a job at the local youth centre (he could finally put his talent for giving gay speeches to use), Stan had a job as a soccer coach, Cartman was working as a real estate agent and I had…sex. As far as I was concerned - that was my job. Kyle kept telling me to get a real job and I persisted that I would as soon as I had finished enjoying free life. However, I began to get steadily poorer. Soon, I couldn't afford the rent on my apartment. Kyle let me stay with him in his house. He was all alone as his parents are super rich and they bought him a house! Kyle said "Anything is better than you practically selling your ass on street corners!" But I wasn't selling my ass! Although it did cross my mind.

Living at Kyle's house was great at first, but Kyle began to get concerned about the fact that every morning I woke up with a different person at my side. I remember scaring myself to death one morning by finding myself curled around a slim boy with auburn hair. I jumped from him and out of bed immediately - thinking it was Kyle. The dude woke up and turned round to face me and I realised it wasn't Kyle at all, it was just some random dude I picked up in a bar the night before. I breathed a sigh of relief and rolled in for a quick fuck-session before kicking the guy out. To no surprise, not many of my sex-pals came back for seconds. After all, I treated them with little or no respect. Some came back (the desperate, horny blondes).They were good rides, but not all there in the head.

I never loved a single one of them. They were simply a way to relieve my craving.

Kyle noticed that whenever I was at bars and clubs, I would always flirt with everyone - just to get in their pants. He kept harping on about how worried he was about me.

"I don't want you to get hurt! You need to get a proper job, Kenny! This can't be healthy! You can't carry on like this, Kenny!" NAG NAG NAG!

I told him to get screwed, but he ambushed me. The bastard. Stan and Cartman grabbed me one morning, threw me into Kyle's car and drove me all the way to this clinic and admitted me personally. Damn them all to hell.

So here I am. At a sexual rehab clinic. As I have been for two months..

This place is called 'Rosy Wood'. I don't know or care why. It sounds more like a camp-site if you ask me, and to be honest - I wish it was. At least in a tent you can have a quickie or at least jack off.. They watch your every move here. They even count how many times you wank! They have perverted cameras in your rooms - like tiny red eyes, watching you sleep. I was quite freaked out by them when I first arrived here, but you get used to them, I suppose.

I sit back up and give the camera a quick 'V-Sign' before throwing my legs over the side of the bed and sliding my feet into my tattered shoes. My clothes lay on the floor in a crumpled mess. I had another 'verbal-fight' with Kade last night. He kept pointing out how much he had improved in his life since he arrived here. It was like he was expecting me to say "Oh yes, Kade. You have really improved! You are much better than me!" and it really pissed me off because I refuse to give in to a retard like Kade. In the end we both yelled hurtful things to each other and we both got undressed quickly and jumped into our own beds, backs to each other, not uttering a single word. I'll bet he will have forgotten it by the time he wakes up, though.

Kade is 19 with fluffy brown hair and equally brown eyes. He usually wears T-shirts with stupid slogans printed on the front such as; "Go-Go-Gadget Shirt!" or "Escaped Lunatic! Don't tell anyone you saw me!". His body is overly-skinny - sort of the same as that Tweek kid's back in South Park. Why the hell can I remember that irritating, vibrating little fucker? I barely talked to him, but then again - I remember everything about South Park. I haven't stopped thinking about it, not wanting to forget it… just thinking about it makes me realise how much I hate this place and how much I want to go home.

Kade grunts in his sleep and I see his arm flop from his side to dangle off the side of his bed. I'm glad I got paired with Kade and not some of the other idiots they have in this place. Kade is a nice guy, although he does have a temper. He does not like to be told what to do. He was brought in here because he managed to have 8 girlfriends at once. How does that work? Me - had sex with to many people to count but never been in a real relationship, and then here comes Kade with his 8 girlfriends! Does that make Kade more of a fuck-addict than I am…was? I don't know who or what I am anymore.

This feels like the worst problem in the world. I have all these feelings building up inside and I can't relieve them! I want that feeling again! The experience that makes your head buzz and your body tingle, but I've been deprived of it. For too long. It's not the fact that I'm scared of punishment - It's more like I can't be bothered.

I sit on the edge of my bed for hours after getting dressed, staring out of the small barred window in the side of our room. I stare at a tree, thinking about the time that myself and Eric Cartman had a tree-house. Eric used me as bait to go and attract girls. Asshole. He always uses-

-BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!-

Kade's fucking alarm clock. Kade, himself, snaps into life almost instantly. His hand wanders over the objects on his bedside table until his fingertips brush the clock. He presses down the off button and sits up.

"Kenny?" He mumbles, rubbing his eyes. I give a small grunt to show I'm awake and his eyes open, quickly.

"What are you doing up this early?" he asks, looking confused.

"You were snoring… again." I growl, fixing him with an angry glare. He looks surprised and then sighs.

"So those lozenges didn't work!" he asks, letting a noise of anger escape his pursed lips.

"Obviously not." I mumble, raising an eyebrow. Kade shoots a small glare at me as he wanders over to his closet and begins to get dressed. I think this system is really logical. They put a sex-slave like me, in a room with a fucking octagon. Smart.

Kade has changed since I first met him, during the first couple of weeks he was exiting himself every night and he even tried sneaking into the female part of the building! Now, however, he's about as frigid as… Kyle. NOT from personal experience! NO WAY! Ever! Kyle wouldn't satisfy me anyway. Kyle did have a girlfriend about two years ago and he wouldn't even hold her hand, let alone kiss her! Finally, she got bored and left him. Kyle wasn't really bothered, either. I expected him to be heart-broken (knowing how emotional he is) but he just carried on with his life as normal..

Once Kade has finished dressing, he sits on the end of his bed and stares at his shoes. Kade always acts so bright and happy, but I know he wants to go home as much as me. He misses his family, and I know the people here annoy him. I hate the people in this place, too. The instructors treat you like a three-year old and the patients who have been 'cured' quiver and clasp their hands over their ears if they hear the word 'sex'. Then there's the 'rough patients', who yell "Give me a quickie or I'll smash your face in!" at you in the bathroom. I've been attacked in there about nine times by a craver in the bathrooms. They yelled and I wasn't exactly going to refuse, was I? But all the rough's get caught and moved on to level 6 security clinic, where you have a member of staff with you and watching you 24/7.

I don't really like the sound of that so I never ask for sex. I wait till someone asks me (or rather tells me) and I pretend to be dis-allowing and timid, even though on the inside, my hormones are rejoicing. It's usually men that demand from me - I've only ever had one woman and she did all the work!

Some people think it's gross to be 'obsessed' with sex, but to me - it's not an 'obsession'. It's a want. A need. A job? Maybe even a way of life.

To be continued…