When Tweek had been little, he always woke up to the smell of coffee and breakfast. He would sleepily get dressed for school and go downstairs. His mother and father would smile at him from their end of the table and ask about how he had slept. He would grunt and dig into the platter of pancakes, eggs and bacon and coffee. As he got older and his parents grew thinner, it was reduced to a cup of coffee. He had gotten a job, of course, and started paying room and board but it had never been enough. One day, his dad took him for a car ride. Tweek got out to ask for directions and he had driven away. The blonde didn't bother to chase him. Inside, Kyle was waiting in a pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. He looked exhausted and pained. Tweek looked horrified and hungry. They had taken a good look at each other and burst out laughing. After their hysterical joy-fit was over, Kyle explained in gentle terms what had happened. In exchange for a large sum of money, the Tweaks had agreed to let their son work at their factory. No contact was to be established by the Tweaks request. It was a bit like an apprenticeship if you thought about it, Kyle said cheerfully. But it didn't change anything.

He had been sold.

He had been sold to random strangers by his parents for money.

His childhood fear of being sold into slavery was coming true.

Later on, Tweek would come to understand that he had fainted.

Kyle explained all about the business, about how he and his boyfriend had started it, how they were going to manufacture and sell snack cakes. It had been his boyfriend's idea, the redhead had admitted bashfully. Business had not been going well and they had hoped another set of hands would help. Tweek had not met the mysterious boyfriend until a week later. His first impression was that Cartman was tremendously fat. His stomach was swollen and his limbs stuck out like they didn't belong. His features were too small for his face and if it were anyone else, he would have been good looking at te least. Instead, his breath reeked like onions and their snack cakes, pop tarts dipped in butter, rolled in chocolate milk mix and deep fried. His eyes were watery and his personality was as bad as his appearance. Tweek wasn't quite sure if Cartman even knew his name. He was always referred to as "Blondie" or "Worker" or "Kyle 2" if the real Kyle wasn't anywhere to be found. Around the second month he was there, things began to get better in some ways. He was paid. Not lavishly, but paid, and Cartman grew more bearable, if not tolerable. Kyle, however, began to get worse. His eyes were haunted and afraid. His hands were constantly quivering and he would spend hours in front of the mirror, breathing and staring. When Tweek finally plucked up the courage to ask what was wrong, he was tackled to the ground in a tight hug. They fell asleep like that and woke to the sight of Cartman staring at them with his piggy eyes.

A day later, a letter arrived in the mail, addressed to a Mr. Broflovski. Unsure what he was doing, Tweek jammed the letter into his pocket and continued on with his daily routine. The paper crinkled with every step he took, constantly reminding him of his guilt. Tweek snuck it into Kyle's nightstand before curfew and tried to forget about it. Their eyes met the next morning and Kyle gave him a happy, sweet smile. Slowly, the Jew began to regain his strength and slowly, Tweek began to piece things together. The revelation left him vomiting for ten minutes before he could think straight. Kyle…Kyle had become a prostitute. Kyle had become a prostitute to support Cartman and him. Cartman knew and he was letting it happen. Tweek bent over the porcelain bowl and retched. Kyle didn't seem very upset about his whore status anymore, he seems to accept it and even some nights, he seemed generally very happy.

"Tweek." The blonde looked up and froze like a deer in headlights. The cardboard box slipped from his fingers and crashed to the floor. Cartman lumbered forward and bent over him, breathing hard. "I need a favor." He whispered.

"Wh-what is it?"

A fat finger stroked his cheek. "I need you to follow Kyle around for the next month. Keep track of everyone he is with and take note of anyone he seems to know personally or keeps seeing."

"What's in it for me?"

Cartman laughs. "Sneaky blonde friend for my sneaky Jewish whore, how nice! All right here; if you do this for me, I give you a 300,000 dollar reward and let you go free."

Freedom?

Now that sounded interesting.

He just hoped Cartman kept his word. But what would happen to Kyle? A shiver went down his spine and he decided to ask the question later. ButTweek was feeling particularly bold and swallowed down his fear for another inquiry. "And if I don't?"

"Then you and I are going to have some alone time together until you decided you can."

Tweek vaulued his life so he remained silent. It turns out, Cartman didn't have to worry. There were no cougars or sneaky jack asses after his boy. There was only one and Tweek already knew his name

Stan Marsh.

Therefore, the only logical thing to do was confront Kyle and ask for details. He couldn't come to Cartman with bad details. He expected resistance, lies, but instead all he got was calm acceptance. "So," He mused, looking out the window, "Cartman finally put it all together; I'm tired of being his whore." He turned to Tweek. "Tweek, do you believe in love at first sight?"

"I-"

"I didn't think so either. I hated Cartman when we first met. He was anti-Semitic and I was a Jew, he was Hitler and I was Moses, but I was attracted to him. Cartman had the school wrapped around his fat little finger and he had what I wanted. Power. Cartman could get me power. So we agreed to give a relationship a try. And I found myself falling for the asshole. He promised me the world on a silver platter and fed me dream after dream to lure me away. From school, from my friends, from my future. That asshole took away my life Tweek and I can't stay here any longer. But," he sighed, "I need your help. Will you do it?" Tweek gulped and shivered, trying to think but of course there was only one logical answer. No. But even Spock had acted illogically at times so Tweek would just have to suck it up.

"Okay."

So they began plotting and planning, although Kyle smiled and looked at him hopefully, Tweek knew the Jew didn't trust him. He knew Kyle wouldn't trust anyone until he was free. Tweek didn't mind, his job was to distract Cartman and smuggle letters, nothing more and nothing less. So when he woke up one morning to find his boss unconscious on the floor with scratch marks over his face and a lock of red hair in his fist, he wasn't surprised. The plan had gone off, not without a hitch but it had worked and Tweek was happy.

Two months later, a boy named Sugar arrived at the factory.