Inspired by an odd experience at a concert, the time the local freak snuck up on me and collared me, my brother's collage buddies and the fact that Kenny is smexy.

Possession

There is a type of person uniformly and universally feared across the globe. He is usually white, with long, shaggy hair pulled into a ponytail. Fangs, skulls, and other terrifying things hang from his ears, eyebrows, and other piercings. His clothes are dark, covered with chains, and/or leather. He wears military boots and is never seen without a self-assured, creepy, lecherous grin. Kenny despises this concert/party/club-goer. I'm getting ahead of myself, but I'll go ahead and make a good lead-in for the story: Why? Why does Kenny, tolerant of most anybody, hate this type of person?

Kyle attracts freaks.

It's true. Kyle is always the one catering at all hours of the night to a suicide-case, gently tearing away from an obsessive 'friend' (), explaining to druggies that, no, he would not like a joint, being asked to lead a 'nation of free love, Baby Red!', sneak-attack-collared, tackle-hugged by strangers, called daddy by three year olds, the whole bit. It made Kenny seethe. He wouldn't let the vulnerable-to-attack redhead to these concerts and parties if it weren't for the fact that Kyle genuinely adored the scene.

Kenny tried so, so hard not to let Kyle out of his sight, not tonight. The Edge was packed, there was a sea of hardcore-dancers by the stage that was blasting an odd rock-metal-soul mixture of music, alcohol was being consumed by the bucket-full, and he'd already seen several of the types of freaks that seem most drawn to his redhead. Despite his best efforts, however, Kenny had lost him. Stan will be furious.

Kenny glided effortlessly through the crowds; they parted for him. Not dramatically, but enough to let any outsider know that you don't fuck with Kenny McCormick, the town badass and punk.

Kenny had tried, once, to make Kyle seem badass enough to not get picked on or molested, but how do you turn a five-foot-one, bubbly nerd with bouncing red curls, big, emotional green eyes, and no muscle (not to mention the kindness that radiated off of him) into something that a creepy wanna-be Dom looking for a hapless victim would stay away from? In the end, Kyle just looked he was being emo for Halloween.

Kenny snarled to himself in frustration, crossing his arms over his chest and letting his hair fall across his eyes as he scanned the area affectionately nicknamed 'The Couches' for a grinning redhead wearing skinny jeans and a shirt several sizes to big for him, but coming up empty-handed. He gazed up to the ceiling, feeling people push past him and shaking away slight claustrophobia, and wondered where Kyle could have possibly gotten to.

Finally, it clicked. Please, don't.

Kenny sped off the door, hoping against hope that he wasn't outside. Kyle really shouldn't be wondering downtown by himself.

OoO

Kyle was leaning against the rails on the stairs, smiling and saying hello (though it was moot with the loud music) to the people who went up and down and enjoying the music, head nodding with the beat. He sighed contently, eyes falling closed as he tilted his head back with a small, happy smile stuck on his lips.

But there was something wrong. His lips, petal-pink and delicate-looking, tug downward into a frown and his eyes slit open to see someone leaning over him.

Kyle's eyes shot open as he took the person in. He was older, handsome in the misleading bad-boy way, college-age, and he towered over the little redhead. His hair was pulled back into a small ponytail at the nape of his neck, revealing large purple gauges. His had snake-bite lip rings and was wearing heavy make-up around his eyes, making the blue of them pop. There's a star tattooed on his left cheek, and his nails, from what Kyle could tell, seeing as his hands were clasping the railing on either side of him, were painted black. He was dressed in stereotypical rocker clothing, all leather and chains, and he was grinning almost happily. "Hey there, little guy." he greeted, leaning in closer and making Kyle shiver as he smelled the strong alcohol on his breath. The redhead let a smile break over his face and gently tried to duck under his arm and scurry off to find his blond-haired, blue-eyed protector, but the unnamed concert-goer caught his wrist, tauntingly singing, "Nah-ah-ah."

Kyle grinned weakly, knowing that no matter what occurred, he was getting an earful when Kenny found him.

OoO

Kyle shivered, still trying to creep away despite the concert-goer (Z, he'd been called by his friends)'s firm grip on his shoulder. Considering asking for help from passerby on the streets and ignoring one of the group members who asked if he was cold, he tried uneasily to curl in on himself for warmth in the face of the cold South Parkian winds. Z pulled him closer, bending down to kiss him on the cheek and exhaling cigarette smoke across his face, sending him into a coughing fit amongst cries to make sure 'Little Red' was alright. Vaguely, Kyle was grateful that at the very least, it was a kind, non-violent sort of group. Very touchy-feel-y, actually, judging by the frequency of their physical contact with himself and one another.

"Yo, W," Z called, causing Kyle to shake his head in vague amusement. Letters? "You got it?"

'W', a scruffy, shorter member of the circle of six people, tossed Z a bag filled with a greenish substance and Kyle watched in growing horror as he removed a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and, using the substance, began to roll a joint. Yes, you heard me. Kyle Broflovski and drugs. In the same sentence. Twice.

Kyle shook his head, eyes wide, and tried to back away, muttering, "I, uh, gotta go. See you."

Z was having none if that. He slung his arm around Kyle's shoulders, drawing him into his side and announcing, "Nuh-uh. What've I told you about runnin' off, honey? You got a light, V?"

V, a tall, slick, greaser-esque man tossed Z a lighter, and Kyle vaguely wondered if there were really twenty-six of these freaks. He wrinkled his nose as an acrid stench filled the air, strengthening as each member lit their joint. Z took a long drag of it and, with a smirk, pressed his lips against Kyle's, making Kyle shriek and try to pull back as Z forced his lips apart and blew a lungful of smoke down his throat, smiling as he pulled away to watch Kyle sputter and choke and cough, blinking with a slight buzz.

Eyes tearing up, Kyle tried again to push away from the giggling stoner, lungs feeling abused as he breathed in their secondary smoke. Z crooned, rubbing the back of his neck and stroking his long auburn curls alternately as he struggled to stop his coughing fit.

After a few quiet moments in which Kyle plotted his escape in vain, another member asked passingly, "So, Red, how much for a blowjob?"

Kyle blinked bemusedly at him, shook his head, and huffed sarcastically in a moment of bravery and attitude fit for a black girl, "You can't afford me."

Z pressed his palm harshly on his frail shoulder and Kyle's knees buckled and he hit the concrete painfully, catching himself on his hands and wincing when he started to bleed from his palms. "Who says we're paying, Little Red?"

Kyle whimpered, staring fearfully up at his new 'friends'. They seemed to be genuinely nice guys-just creepy as fuck-and maybe if Kyle made it clear that he really didn't want to suck them off, they'd let him-

He didn't get the chance. "If it ain't the Preschool Gang newbs." Kenny growled, replacing his phone in his pocket. Kyle wilted in relief, a small smile appearing on his lips. "This is how it works. I just snapped a picture and I have all six of your mothers' cell phone numbers in my contacts list. Step away now or I send the pic to your moms and castrate all of you."

He sounded absolutely livid, and Kyle winced as the boys backed away, terrified despite the fact that they probably didn't know what castration meant. The 'Preschool Gang' hesitated, though, and Kenny was abruptly in front of Z and punched him square in the nose, a satisfied smirk rising to his features as Z's nose began to gush red life-liquid.

Kyle lowered his head to avoid seeing it, feeling his stomach lurch as the combination of his first ever high, smoke, and the coppery scent of blood overwhelmed him.

OoO

Kyle isn't looking too good, Kenny noted worriedly as he tugged him up by the arm. Kyle gagged slightly and Kenny rubbed his shoulder in comfort, mumbling something about taking him home.

Kenny was furious. Beyond furious, actually. He was ready to tear into any of the Preschool Gang, Kyle, anybody he could his fault in. He was positively livid.

By the time Kenny got his best friend back to his apartment (Child Services were called two years ago, when he was fourteen, and they've been helping him pay rent for the three-room apartment ever since), Kyle had sobered up and had long ago fallen silent. Patiently, Kenny sat him on his beat-up love-seat, looked over his palms briefly and shook his head, walking towards the kitchen where he gathered together a glass of water and a damp rag.

Kyle didn't say a word as Kenny gently pressed the glass to his lips, allowing Kenny to water him before taking hold of the glass himself. His eyes were fixed on his lap with the slightest hint of an embarrassed or maybe ashamed blush as Kenny grasped his wrists and ran the rag against the open wounds, clearing them of dirt. When Kenny set the rag aside, Kyle started to apologize and thank him only to be interrupted by a sharp thwack to the side of his head.

"I am going to put you in a goddamn box, Kyle! You know, you know you attract danger but you still wonder off! What would you have done, huh? What would you have done if I hadn't found you? Let yourself get mouth-raped? By the motherfucking Preschool Gang? How stupid are you? What if Z took you back to Alphabet? Could you handle being one of their whores? No!" Kenny, eyes glinting in rage, was probably exaggerating a bit, but the point remained. Unfortunately, Kyle had issues with being talked to in an angry voice, let alone being yelled at, and began to cry softly, a little overwhelmed. After several seconds of silence, the redhead gasped miserably, "What the fuck is the Preschool Gang?"

Kenny blinked, remembering again how naïve Kyle could be. His anger melted away and he sat heavily beside his friend, put his head in his hands and explaining apathetically, "It's one of the most powerful, largest gangs in South Park. It consists of thirty eight to forty seven members at any given time. They have a very simple social ladder. Alphabet rests at the top as the leader. Below him are the Elders or Numbers, the oldest members of the gang; One though Nine and then Zero. They advise Alphabet. Below them are the Letters, A through Z. The ones who have been there the longest are closer to A and the newer closer to Z. Below the Letters are the Rookies, or the Colors, Red, Blue, Yellow, Green, Orange, Purple, White, and Black. A new Rookie will work his way from Black to Red, then from Z to where-ever he gets on the ladder, and possibly to Nine. If he lives long enough, he'll get to Zero. The current Zero is eighty, I think. Alphabet has an apprentice at all times to take his place if he dies. The apprentice is called the Preschooler. They aren't all that bad, really. They work in the gray area of the law and try to keep the streets safe... But sometimes the younger members pull shit like Z and his group did to you. Oh, they also have Devon, the Preschooler. He'll inherit the gang one day, or he's supposed to. I'm thinking it'll turn out to be a joint rule."

By the end of his speech, Kyle had managed to wipe away his tears and now just seemed small. "Oh." he whispered, rubbing at his left eye with a broken giggle. "What a stupid name."

Kenny glared at him. "This is serious! I guarantee that all forty-somethin' of them know your face by now!"

Kyle faltered. "Am I... Am I in danger?"

Kenny smiled crookedly. "Karen is best friends with Alphabet's baby brother. I doubt there will be a problem from the whole gang, but Z's group probably will give you some trouble."

Kyle looked scared. He tugged at Stan's Nickelback T-shirt anxiously and fiddled with the sleeves. Kenny melted a little. "Hey," He gripped the nerd's jaw gently, tilting his face up to meet his intense blue gaze, "You'll be fine. Just stick around me, alright? I've got you."

Kyle nodded, but still seemed unsure. Kenny pulled him into a hug, hesitating maybe a moment too long, and muttered again, "You're safe."

OoO

A scarf. Kenny almost snorted in disbelief. Did Kyle think he was stupid?

It was red, blue, and black, his favorite colors, fading in and out of each other waywardly. Kyle had it wrapped securely around his fragile neck, shielding it from the cold South Parkian winds... And Kenny's prying eyes.

It was two weeks after the incident at the concert, and Kyle was walking Kenny to Summer School like he did every day. Neither spoke, but every couple steps their shoulders touched and it made Kenny smile to see the inch or six he had on Kyle so blatantly obvious. Kyle was glancing at him nervously, indicating again that something was wrong. Kenny sighed, gripping his elbow domineeringly and tugging Kyle into an alleyway, ignoring the redhead's cries of 'Kenny, we'll be late! Don't!' and insistently tugging on the scarf.

Kyle tried to pull away, to keep his scarf in place, anything, but Kenny was relentless and pressed him against the wall, immobilizing him as Kenny tugged off the scarf at last.

The blond actually howled his rage.

OoO

Kyle was crying silently as Kenny shoved him roughly onto the kitchen table and stormed out, tying knots into his scarf absent-mindedly and occasionally dabbing at his eyes with it. The cold metal of the ring locked in place around his neck made him shiver and grimace as he fingered the heavy padlock resting in the hollow of his throat. The pads of his fingers traced the Z marked into it with a shudder and his tears started anew.

"Look at me." Kenny instructed, making Kyle jump. He hadn't heard him enter the room. His beautiful green irises rose to meet electric blue, but he immediately splayed his hands defensively out towards the camera pointed at him. "No!" Kyle gasped sharply, making Kenny lower the cheap disposable camera. "I know shit like this has happened before, but... I can't get it off and I want no evidence!"

Kenny watched him bemusedly for a moment before it clicked. "You feel owned." Kenny stated. After a pause, Kyle nodded ashamedly. Kenny sighed, fury still dancing behind his eyes. "Don't worry, Ky, you belong to me." Kyle blushed and made a noise of protest. "One picture, I swear. Just look straight ahead and pull your hair out of the way."

"Why?" Kyle whined, a horrified, shamed blush darkening his cheeks. Kenny grinned lopsidedly. "Proof for Alphabet."

With a shaky inhale as he did what he was told, Kyle observed, "You're very vengeful."

"People shouldn't fuck with my property."

"Excuse me, your property?"

"Precisely." Kenny leaned in and shoved his lips against Kyle's, making him freeze in surprise. Kenny's lips were warm and dry and still, much to Kyle's interest. After a hazy moment in which a click was heard, Kenny backed away to leave Kyle blinking owlishly at the wall across the room.

Kenny cracked open his 1337 K17 with a smug smirk, revealing rubber bands, duct tape, wires, a sock, adapters, super glue, the Zombie Survival Guide, basic First Aid, shoelaces, and almost anything else you could possibly think of. Rummaging around the organized chaos, Kenny triumphantly extracted a hairpin, two paper-clips, and a pen knife.

Taking advantage if Kyle's near-comatose state, the charismatic blond set to work on the lock, mentally timing himself. A good lock-pick should be able to get any average lock undone in less than a minute.

Thirty-two seconds. Decent. Both Kenny and Kyle relaxed impossibly as the metal collar cracked open, revealing rubbed-raw skin that Kyle rubbed at absent-mindedly and a folded-up sheet if paper attached to the inside carefully. Taking the solid, heavy ring in his hands, Kenny carefully pulled away the paper, unfolding it slowly and snarling as he took in the message.

Mine now, McCormick. ~Z

"Mine." He muttered possessively. This seemed to shake Kyle awake as he looked up shyly at his friend, an even mixture of fear and trust in his eyes. Kenny stared at him balefully for a moment, then mumbled, "M'callin' Stan."

Kyle was instantly at his side, delicate fingers wrapped tightly around the blond's upper arm as he begged wholeheartedly, "No! C'mon, Kenny, Stan escaped! He's got two weeks left before he has to come back. You know how much he loves Duke, just let him stay there." Kenny considered the redhead for a tense moment before sighing and nodding, conditioning grimly, "You are to be within arm's reach at all times."

Kyle curled in on himself with a quiet, "Yessir."

Kenny shook his head, feeling heavy with emotional fatigue. "Don't call me sir."

"Okay." Kyle agreed carefully, not meeting Kenny eyes as he let go of his arm. "You missed class." he observed, trying to change the subject.

"It's okay." Kenny muttered, slinging an arm around his shoulders and leading him into the living/dining room separated from the kitchen by a low wooden counter. "I'm ahead, it's Friday, and you're far more important."

Kyle shook his head vehemently as Kenny sat him down, a light blush on his face. "Your studies are more important than my latest tragedy." Kenny pressed his lips to his forehead and swore, "Never."

OoO

Devon could feel his eyebrows rising steadily. He recognized the people in the picture; Kenny, Karen's big brother, and Kenny's personal Preschooler. The red head (that made Devon blush a little and smile when he saw him) was being kissed-very tamely, is Kenny losing his touch?-and seemed to have a collar on. The same collar, he noted, as the one dangling from his fingers at the moment. He quickly searched the heavy envelope for a letter of some kind, and came up short. He fidgeted a little, wondering if big brother would be angry that he didn't understand Kenny's message.

Feeling lost, Devon examined the collar again, noting with a small 'Oh.' that it had Z carved into the padlock. The childish brunette tsked, reprimanding the silent and empty room, "Never touch nobody's property without permission, Mr. Z."

He ran off to find his big brother, anxious to see if he would be pleased with him. He hoped so.

OoO

Alphabet smiled contentedly as he removed his arms from the poker table, letting his sweet little brother clamber into his lap and hugging him briefly, informing the other players that he'd be sitting out the rest of this round of R.E.S. and focusing on the brunette straddling his lap, trailing absent fingers across his thighs and lower back.

"What's up, Dev?" he asked, ignoring the mouthed 'You're so whipped!' from the other players (A, K, Three, and M) and pecking the child on the lips. Devon blushed a little, pushing a collar and the picture into his big brother's hands and announcing, "Z tried to claim Kenny's property!"

Alphabet's eyebrows rose slowly in disbelief as he looked over first the photo (mentally fist-bumping Kenny) and then the collar. A smirk rose on his face. Setting the items on the desk, Alphabet clasped his hands over his baby brother's ears, squirming a little at the sight of his innocently inquisitive baby-blue eyes fixed on his, and asked A conspiratorially, "Ain't C into the BDSM scene?"

Catching on, A grinned widely and nodded vigorously. "He's in-between subs at the moment and been lookin' into havin' a full time master/slave relationship... Just for a month or two. Perfect."

Alphabet tilted his head to the side, shoving away his rage at the arrogant teen and deciding to ensure the brat's safety. "He'd be given a safe word or whatever?" A nodded, "'magine so."

Still grinning at his plot as his closest friends resumed playing cards, Alphabet uncovered his baby brother's ears and captured his soft pink lips in a gentle kiss. Devon blushed, pulling away and hugging him around the neck. "What do you think, Dev? Should we demote Z back to Black and let Red become Z, or let C make Z learn some humility?"

The others pricked an ear, always interested to hear what their ever-fair Preschooler had to say. "Maybe..." Devon started strong but faltered, voice dropping into a murmur. "Maybe we could demote him to Red. Red is looking very promising, she'd be a wonderful new member... Z really doesn't deserve to work back through seven years of training. He's a good kid, just misguided. We could let C have Z for, like, a week? His birthday is just around the corner, we could give him Z as a gift. And, uh, ain't Six with-out an assistant? You know how overbearing Six can be, that'd be punishment in itself..."

By the end of his little rant, Devon's voice had faded into a whisper and Alphabet was kissing along his jaw, speaking through his affections, "Confidence, Dev. You have no self esteem. All in favor of the Preschooler's admittedly less harsh but probably fair idea?"

"Aye!" was heard around the table, and Three assured Alphabet that he'd run it by the other Numbers.

"Christopher?" Alphabet started at hearing his real name pass his angel's lips. A small blush spreading across his cheeks at the amused chuckles of his friends, he mumbled back, "Yeah, Dev?"

After a pause, the thirteen year old shrugged, leaning into his brother's chest, lovingly stroking his neck and mumbled, "Just miss hearin' and sayin' the name mama gave you."

'Oh my god!' Alphabet mouthed over to his friends (who'd all known Devon more or less since birth and were long ago enraptured by him, though not a bad as Alphabet), who were shaking with laughter. M, the token girl in the group, gasped back at Alphabet's helpless expression, "He's just precious!"

Something seemed to dawn on Alphabet and he grinned, standing with one hand supporting Devon's cute Jean-clad ass and the other wrapped around his waist as Devon instinctually tightened his hold on the older raven-haired man. "If you'll excuse me..." He mock-pleaded the room, "I have an adorable baby brother to fuck senseless."

The other four sputtered slightly, watching bemusedly as Alphabet carried a flushed Preschooler away towards the commons. "He doesn't have to show off!" K groaned jealously, glaring at nothing. Three patted him on the shoulder. "After all the drama they went through to find lovers within each other, Alpha deserves a little indulgence, don't you think?"

K glared at the middle-aged man balefully. "Does wisdom come with the position naturally or is it injected?"

"Experience, my child." Three responded, nodding safely. "Experience?" A questioned with a smirk, setting his best friend up for their favorite joke, "What's experience?"

Three took on a grave expression. "It's what you get about a minute after you need it."
So there you have it. Jeez, it was hard to write.
REVIEW! ...plz?