Author Notes: Thanks for all the reads and reviews. Here's chapter 20, aka their first date! By the way, if anything creeps you out at any point during this chapter, please persevere and read through to the end. You'll understand what I mean when you finish. Enjoy!

Chapter 20 – Phobic

Waking up to good news is always a rare and uplifting experience. But by 9am on Saturday morning, Cartman and I had been told three separate pieces of good news in total. The first piece of news came when Cartman's cell phone rang at a little after 2am. Luckily we were both still wide awake talking at this time, which was very fortunate for the caller who happened to be Butters. He was ecstatic that he'd finally gone all the way with Porsche for the first time, and wanted to share his joy with us. Cartman promptly hung up on him after about four seconds, so I called him back and congratulated him. He described the event in what I felt was an unnecessary amount of detail, but I humoured him all the same. He told me how happy he felt inside, and I told him to get used to it. If he and Porsche are anything like me and Cartman, the feeling can only get better.

Later that morning, my cell phone rang. It was my dad, asking if I wanted to meet up with him and Ike tomorrow afternoon for lunch. Not really an earth-shattering piece of news, but considering my mom's behaviour, it means a lot to me that they want to take time out of their weekends to see me. The final and most important piece of news arrived with the mailman in the form of a letter for Liane. She's managed to land herself a job. Her new employer was apparently most understanding about her past and has given her a well-deserved chance. So, as of Monday morning, she'll be working the reception desk at South Park's sexual health clinic.

I've got a really good feeling about today.

Cartman and I spent most of the night talking about where to go on our date, but we just couldn't decide. It's like we had some sort of unspoken rule that this date needed to be perfect, therefore we needed to pick the most perfect place. The typical 'dinner and a movie' package was out of the question – I don't know why, but it just doesn't suit us somehow. I suggested a trip to Denver Zoo, totally forgetting about how a field trip there in sixth grade had resulted in Cartman receiving a lifetime ban. To cut a long story short, he stole everybody's hats and put them on the chimpanzees. How he actually managed to get into and out of the enclosure without being seriously injured is still a mystery to me, but I have to admit that I did kinda see the funny side of it. The chimps looked pretty funny, and it was just harmless mischief compared to Cartman's usual bullshit, so I did feel that the zoo keeper totally overreacted by banning Cartman from the zoo forever.

This is, until I got my ushanka handed back to me covered in squished banana peel and monkey shit.

It's probably just as well that we can't go to the zoo – I don't think I could stand the earache from Stan and Wendy ranting about those poor animals being in captivity. Cartman suddenly became inspired over breakfast as he was flicking through the newspaper. He grinned at me, confidently declaring that he knew the perfect place. He wouldn't tell me where, but assured me that I'd love it. I contemplated going through the newspaper to see if the same wave of inspiration would hit me, but I decided against it. He looked so pleased with himself that I couldn't possibly ruin his big surprise.

Once we were both dressed, we decide to just spend the morning chilling out in front of the TV before heading off on our date. There's a Terrance & Philip marathon on that we watch for nostalgia's sake. Although I laugh at all the appropriate moments, I'm not really focused on the jokes. I'm too busy trying to guess where we're going on our date. For some reason, I have no idea. I suppose I'll find out soon enough, but surely I know Cartman well enough that guessing something like this should be easy? My thoughts are interrupted when the phone rings. Cartman snatches up the receiver.

'What? ...Yeah? ...Really? ...Well, it's about goddamn time!'

I have to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing at his delightful telephone manner.

'Yeah sure, I'll be right there.'

He hangs up and pulls on his jacket.

'I gotta go out for a couple of minutes. The vet finally got Mr Kitty's ashes back from the crematorium, so I need to go pick up her urn type thingy. Can I trust you here by yourself?'

I nod as he rises from the couch and approaches the front door. He pauses in the doorway, casting a sly smirk over his shoulder.

'If you get bored, you can always-'

I cut him off. 'Count the quarters in the spare change jar, right?'

The look of surprise that hits his face is almost adorable.

'Hey! Don't hijack my jokes, Jew!'

'Then get some new material, douchebag.'

I laugh when he flips me off and closes the door behind him. As retarded as it sounds, I feel a little bit lost without him here. I try to keep my attention focused on the TV, but it's just not keeping my attention... I wonder if Cartman will mind if I use his computer to check my email. I'm sure he won't. I make my way upstairs to Cartman's room and go to his desk. The computer loads straight up when I turn it on. Wow...it isn't even password protected? This surprises me greatly considering what a private and somewhat suspicious person Cartman is, but it's also a relief. I'd hate to have to sit and work out what Cartman could possibly use as a password.

It looks like a pretty normal computer. I briefly wonder whereabouts his plans for world domination are filed under. Just as I'm about to click the Internet Explorer icon, I notice that there's a shortcut to a file labelled 'Joo pics' on the desktop. I know I shouldn't, but I can't help taking a look. Part of me expects to find a load of pictures of scenes from concentration camps, but instead I'm presented with well over three hundred pictures of me. It seems that Cartman has accumulated quite a collection of photographs of me over the years, some of which I wasn't even aware had been taken. I guess this is a little bit boarder-line creepy stalker type behaviour, but it's also sort of...flattering. So I can deal with it.

I click the Explorer icon and log into my email account. Nothing much to look at, really. Just a couple of those retarded 'OMG!! Forward this email to 15 people and you'll win the lottery!!!!' type emails. Yuck. Delete! Well, that was worth invading my boyfriend's privacy for. What else can I do? Damn...I wish I could remember what I used to use computers for before I discovered Internet porn. That said, it's been a pretty long while since I've actually looked at any. I guess there isn't a need for me to since I'm getting the real thing nowadays. Besides, I probably shouldn't even be using Cartman's computer at all so I definitely shouldn't be using it to watch porn...

I hesitantly type in the address of one of my favourite sites. I won't actually watch anything – I just wanna see what's new. Some of the fuckers on this site post some seriously sick shit that it's more like a shock site than a porn site anyway. I saw this one clip where a guy cut off the circulation to his balls with string, then hacked them off with a bread knife. That's beyond the realm of kink. That's just fucking disgusting. A new video under the rape fetish section catches my eye. The description says its two guys in balaclavas forcing some twink into sucking them off, then shoving both of their cocks into his ass. My finger hovers over the left button of the mouse for a good minute before I click. I suppose watching a couple of minutes won't do any harm...

As fucked up as it sounds, I sometimes have rape fantasies. It started one day last year. Cartman and I had been arguing quite aggressively that day, and as usual I was dwelling on it when I got home, replaying the dialogue over in my head. Suddenly I had visions of him shoving me up against the wall, tearing my clothes off and having his way with me while I struggled and tried to scream beneath him. The idea of it got me so hot that I started watching all of these gay prison and locker room rape videos to get off. Obviously, I wouldn't want it to happen to me for real, but I think it would be awesome to do it as part of role-playing. I keep trying to bring it up with Cartman, but there's never really a good time. We've never really asked each other for anything specific sexually before, they've just sort of happened. I loved it when he had me handcuffed down in the basement the other night, but I guess I'd like something more spontaneous, more violent.

More realistic.

Fucking hell, I sound like such a screwed up little pervert. I guess I probably am.

I freeze when I hear the front door open downstairs and Cartman yell that he's home. Ah shit! I hastily close the webpage and shut down the computer. I take a deep breath as I leave his room, hoping that my face doesn't look too flushed. It's not like I did anything all that wrong. I didn't even jerk off. But I'm sure there'll be plenty of time to sate my sexual desires after our mystery date this evening.

* * * * *

I totally forgot that one of those travelling fairgrounds run by carnies is in town this weekend. How the hell didn't I guess that Cartman would deem it as a perfect place for a date? It's just so typically him – fun despite being rough around the edges, and just a little bit dangerous and weird. I think it was an awesome idea, and I love the way his face lit up when I told him as much. This should be a great first date. It's a fairly big place and since it's about mid afternoon now it's already pretty busy, which is good from my point of view. I hate to sound anti-social, but I hope we don't run into anyone we know here. I just want it to be me and Cartman today, and I want us to feel comfortable together as a couple without having to worry about holding back in front of people like we have to with Stan.

Since we're both horror fans, we agree that our first stop should be the ghost house. It looks kinda crappy from the outside, but the inside is actually pretty cool. There's no cars, so you're just free to walk around inside. It's dark and cold, with luminous spider's webs draped from wall to wall. It's full of authentic smells and sound effects, and there's even a handful of convincing animatronics of various horror characters scattered about the place. A little way in, we turn a corner and are brought face to face with the snarling muzzle of a werewolf.

Cartman sniggers. 'That looks like your mom.'

I laugh inwardly - I knew he'd say that. I force an appalled expression onto my face. 'Dude! Don't talk about that poor monster like that!'

Cartman laughs as I give the werewolf an affectionate pat on the nose. I must have triggered a motion sensor or something, because the damn thing suddenly throws back its head and roars. The high-pitched yelp of fright I let out is enough to have Cartman laughing so hard that he has to lean against a faux coffin to keep his balance. My face crimson, I punch him in the arm as hard as I can to shut him up, but he continues to laugh despite his dead arm. I storm off further into the ghost house and he chases after me. We come to a room that is set up to look like a library, but has a load of fake headstones scattered around the floor. They all have names of famous horror writers on them, like Mary Shelley and Edgar Allan Poe. There's even a couple for people that aren't even dead yet such as Stephen King, which is a little distasteful for my liking but I guess I can live with it. Cartman lets out what sounds like a soft moan as he runs his finger over the top of Bram Stoker's headstone.

'Ever thought about fucking in a cemetery?' he asks softly.

Surprisingly, I haven't. It would be a little too creepy for my liking. Cartman doesn't wait for my reply before continuing.

'I think it would be awesome. Feeling so alive, despite being surrounded by so much death.'

I arch an eyebrow. 'You're warped, dude.'

'Look who's talking...'

Something about the way Cartman said that made my stomach twinge. The obvious smile in his voice makes me feel like he knows about my little encounter with his computer this morning. When he doesn't say anything else, I just assume that it was the guilt playing tricks on my mind and try not to think about it anymore.

After the ghost house we go on some more rides, including the Tilt-A-Whirl. Tilt-A-Whirls have always been one of my fairground favourites and I drag Cartman onto it three times in a row before we both start feeling a little bit nauseous from all the spinning. We sit down for a moment and decide where to go next. This particular fairground has a pretty special main attraction – a wooden Ferris wheel. I can't honestly say that I'm enthusiastic about going on it. I'm not enthusiastic about anything that looks like it's been constructed from tongue depressors and crazy glue. Cartman seems dead-set on going on it though.

'You really wanna go on this thing?' I ask.

'Yeah, I like the sweet view you can get from the top of these things.' He eyes me curiously. 'Why? What's the problem?'

I crinkle my nose. 'Look at it. It looks like a group of blind retarded monkeys put it together.'

Cartman clucks his tongue. 'Don't be such a snob, Jew.'

'I am not a snob!' I say with a scowl. 'I just don't think it looks very safe.'

He rolls his eyes, waving a dismissive hand. 'Of course it's safe! Nobody's died yet, have they? Don't be such a pussy.'

I don't get the chance to argue back as my hand is grabbed and I'm dragged towards the questionable structure. I hope to Moses that there aren't any beavers around here. A small family of them could make short work of this piece of shit. As we step into our carriage, I can't help but notice that the faux leather seats are old, torn and held together with duct tape. I don't say anything though. I'm not a fucking snob. I just don't want to die. I try not to think like that and make myself as comfortable as possible as the carriage ascends. Truth be told, this isn't as bad as I thought it would be. And Cartman is enjoying it, which is the most important thing. Just as we reach the top of the wheel, there's an unusual screeching sound from below and our carriage jerks to a stop. My breath catches in my throat.

'Oh my God...has this thing broken down?'

Cartman doesn't seem fazed. 'Relax. They're probably just letting other people on or something.'

I sneak a look out of our window down at the ground. One of the operators is ushering people back away from the ride, while the other is standing looking at the control panel, scratching his head in bewilderment. Oh, wonderful!

'It fucking has! It's broken down!'

'So what?' Cartman shrugs. 'You afraid of heights or something?'

'No, I'm afraid of falling to my death from a poorly structured piece of shit like this!'

I may have said that a little too harshly, but I'm kinda panicking here. Once again, Cartman seems unaffected by my freaking out.

'Just don't look,' he grins. 'Better yet, do look. Face your fears, Kyle. Here, this'll take your mind off of it.'

He starts rocking his body back and forward, making the carriage move with him. I'm clinging to my seat so hard that I can hear my fingernails scrapping against the duct tape.

'Stop it, Cartman!' I almost shriek.

'Chill out, Jew,' he sniggers. 'We're not gonna die.'

He stops rocking the car and puts his arm around my shoulder, his fingertips tickling at the back of my neck lightly. I feel so much better with the heat of his body so close to me. He grins when I lean into him and kisses me softly. Soon his fingers are knitted into my hair and his tongue is requesting access to my mouth. I reciprocate hungrily, still a little worked up after watching that video this afternoon. It's kind of a shame that we're stuck on this fucking wheel – I would love for this to go further right now. Cartman's lips pull away from mine so that he can whisper to me.

'Anything I can do to take your mind off it?'

Then again, I guess being stuck here doesn't necessarily mean things don't have to go further...

'Well, now that you mention it...'

My eyes drop downwards and I nod at my jeans. Cartman quirks a curious eyebrow at me.

'You can't be that fucking scared if you're in the mood for that, Kyle!'

'But you said 'anything',' I remind him huskily. 'C'mon...let's join the 100ft High Club.'

His smirk grows to match mine when I wink teasingly.

'But what if this thing falls to pieces and we fall to our deaths like you said?' he says. 'Is the back of my head really the last thing that you wanna see?'

I shrug playfully. 'Beats seeing the front.'

He scowls, but it isn't genuine. 'I hope I bite your dick off on the way down.'

I laugh softly as Cartman's broad hands reach for my zipper. My erect cock practically bursts out from beneath my clothes unaided. I observe as Cartman strokes me with both hands and slowly licks his lips before taking me into his mouth. He sucks my rigid flesh quite cautiously at first. He hasn't had much practise at doing this, mostly because I prefer doing it to him. He quickly becomes braver, taking my throbbing length into the back of his throat and suckling firmly. I stroke his hair in encouragement as his warm tongue flickers against my hot skin. I lean my head back as he continues, relishing the feeling of suction encasing my cock and gentle fingers squeezing my balls. Glancing back down at the head of chestnut hair bobbing up and down on my lap, I realise that Cartman was right – the view from up here is pretty sweet.

Suddenly, the carriage jerks to life and I hear the crowd cheer from the ground below. I feel Cartman jump and gag slightly on my cock before pulling back. I quickly put my cock back inside my pants as he straightens out his hair. As we descend back to earth, I notice how quickly it's becoming dark. The sun is already dipping down below the horizon, baking the sky a magnificent shade of dark red. When our feet are back on the ground, our eyes meet briefly and we grin at each other coyly. It's a shame we didn't get a chance to finish up there, but I suppose there's always later.

'Wanna go get something to eat?' I say casually.

He nods, equally nonchalant. 'Always.'

We make our way over to a cluster of booths selling food. There's quite a selection to choose from, but we decide on a little pizza shack and order a cheese pizza between us. As the shack owner puts our order into the oven, Cartman looks at me and smirks.

'Hey Kyle? Know what the difference is between a pizza and a Jew?'

I shoot him a warning look, but he ignores it.

'The pizza doesn't scream when you put it into an oven.'

Son of a bitch!

'Ow! Fuck, Kyle!'

I feel he well and truly deserves the sharp kick that I deliver to his shin. Furious, I stomp over to one of the little tables set up outside the shack and throw myself into a chair. Fucking fatass! You'd think that after all this time, he would have realised that I don't like hearing that kind of shit! I don't look up at him as he approaches and sits down beside me. There's a moment of silence. Cartman clears his throat awkwardly.

'What I meant to say was...that a pizza isn't nearly as delicious as a Jew.'

I continue to fume silently. He reaches for my hand, but I tug it away violently. I hear him sigh deeply.

'I was only joking, Kyle.'

'Last time I checked, jokes were supposed to be funny,' I snap. 'Consider your audience, Cartman. Why the hell would a Jew find a joke about Jews dying funny?'

He doesn't answer. There's another short pause. I assume he's internalising what I've just said. Either that or he's wondering how long the pizza's gonna be.

'So...am I to understand that Holocaust jokes are in the same category as the K word?'

My heart soars a little. I guess he was thinking of me after all.

'Yes,' I say flatly.

He reaches out for my hand again. I don't pull away this time, turning my eyes to meet his. He flashes me a sheepish grin, his deep chocolate eyes gentle and apologetic.

'Sorry.'

I can't stop myself from smiling at him. Goddamn it. I just don't seem to be able to stay as angry at him as I used to. I know he didn't say what he did to deliberately upset me. He was just trying to get a rise out of me, as usual. Unfortunately, he overdid it. Everyone has a line – he just needs to learn where mine is. I notice that he's rubbing his shin with the hand that isn't gripping mine.

'Jesus Christ, need anger management much?' he winces. 'You're so fucking aggressive sometimes.'

I snigger. 'Yeah, and you love it.'

He smirks broadly at me and I'm about to lean in to kiss him when the pizza dude shouts over to us that our food is ready. To be honest the pizza isn't all that great, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm having a great time. We have a really nice conversation as we eat, flirting shamelessly with each other and laughing about random stuff that pops into our heads. Cartman even treats me to an ice cream for dessert afterwards. It's delicious, a huge improvement on the pizza, and it's made all the sweeter by the fact that my mother would have a coronary if she knew I was eating it. She's always been so anxious over my diabetes, but a single scoop isn't going to do me any harm. When we've finished eating, Cartman looks at me and laughs.

'You've got ice cream on your cheek.'

I wipe at my face with the back of my hand. 'Did I get it?'

'Nope. Let me.'

He leans in and flicks out his tongue out, licking the cream from just beside my lip. I grin shyly and move forward, lightly pressing my lips to his. A couple of people sitting near us suddenly stop talking, so I assume we've caught their attention. Hope they enjoy the show - you'd think they'd never seen two guys kissing before.

'Hey! You kids can't do that here!'

We break our kiss and turn to look at the dude behind the counter. He looks pretty pissed off. Cartman looks as confused as I do by his outburst.

'Do what?' he asks.

'What you were just doing!' yells the dude.

I blink in confusion. 'Huh? You mean kiss?'

'That's exactly what I mean!' he growls.

I frown. 'Why the hell not?'

The guy rudely turns his back on us and busies himself with tidying his booth. What a prick. Cartman gets up and approaches the booth angrily, slamming his hands down on the countertop. I follow him, just in case he decides to do or say something that he's gonna regret later.

'Hey! My boyfriend asked you a question, dickhole!' Cartman bellows pointedly. 'What the hell's your problem?'

The stand owner slowly turns back around to look at Cartman, grimfaced.

'Look, boys. I realise that this is America, and therefore you guys are free to be as queer as you wanna be, despite what the good Lord Almighty may think of it. There ain't nothing I can do about that. However, I can ask that you kindly stay the hell away from my booth while you're doing it. We clear?'

Every word that passes his lips brings my blood closer to boiling point. That fucking fascist son of a bitch! Cartman looks totally stunned. I glance over my shoulder at the other customers around the booth. All of them are either staring over or making a big show of pretending not to stare. Screw this. I turn back to that asshole and give him the most evil look that I can muster, then grab hold of Cartman's arm and drag him away from the booth. He looks as furious as I do. We walk a couple of yard before Cartman explodes.

'That...that fucking redneck carnie motherfucking asshole dickhead!'

'I know, dude,' I say softly. 'Just try to forget about it.'

'How can I just forget about it?' Cartman splutters. 'How can you? He had no right to treat us that way, Kyle!'

'I know he didn't, but there's no point in arguing with people like that. I should know – my mother's one of them. Who cares what he thinks anyway? He's just some nobody who sells overpriced pizza from a crappy looking booth in an amusement park. Screw him.'

Cartman seems to consider what I say carefully. His annoyed expression slowly fades and he breaks into a smile.

'Yeah!' he laughs. 'That douchebag doesn't even get to be a ride operator. What a loser!'

I flash him a warm smile and tug on the sleeve of his jacket.

'C'mon, let's forget about that jackass and go have some more fun.'

Cartman nods and follows me further away from that shithead's booth. I knew that it was only a matter of time before we'd have to deal with someone like that. I guess it could have been worse. I'm surprised I kept my temper and managed to turn the other cheek so easily. I guess I've lived with some form of discrimination or intolerance for most of my life, so I must have developed a thick skin over the years.

Ironically though, I have Cartman to thank for that.

* * * * *

After a speedy recovery from that homophobic dickhead's onslaught, we spent some time playing games. They had air hockey and pool tables, so we played together for a while. But I guess old habits die hard, and we soon found ourselves getting quite competitive with each other and the insults started flowing back and forth. After coming close to hurling my pool cue javelin-style in the general direction of Cartman's head, I made the suggestion that we just watch each other play single player games. Cartman spent a while playing one of those games were you have to hit targets with a pellet gun in order to win prizes. He displayed a lot of skill handling the gun, and rarely missed the bull's-eye. It was a little disturbing, really. The booth owner looked pretty pissed off at handing over yet another prize as Cartman won for about the seventh time in a row.

'Wow...you're scarily good at this,' I mutter.

Cartman laughs. 'I know! Just look at all this crap that I've won!'

Crap would certainly be the operative word. All he's won is a pile of shitty toys – a box of toy soldiers, a toy gun, a piggy bank, a little wind-up car...it's like he's kidnapped the cast of Toy Story. I shudder slightly as I see the item on the very bottom of the pile. It's a white latex mask with blood-red staring eyes in the centre, and equally as red tufts of hair attached to the outside. Its mouth is wide and contorted into an evil grimace, its thick red lips surrounding a set of pointed yellowed teeth. I think it's meant to be a clown, but it's the scariest fucking clown I've ever seen.

'That mask is fucking creepy, dude.'

Cartman eyes the item and grins at me teasingly. 'Aww, is someone scared of clowns?'

'I wouldn't be dating you if I was, asshole!' I growl. 'And I'm not exactly scared of them. They just freak me out.'

Cartman sniggers as he scoops his prizes into a plastic shopping bag. The carnie looks relieved when Cartman moves onto a different shooting game. The object this time is to break three china plates with four bullets, though Cartman manages to break four plates with three somehow. The carnie praises his shooting ability vehemently, and hands over a plastic bag filled with water and a live goldfish. Cartman accepts his prize and gestures to me that he's done. I raise an eyebrow at the unusual prize as we walk away.

'What the hell do you want with a fish?' I ask.

'Oh, it's not for me. It's for Stan.'

I frown. 'Dude, Stan's scared of goldfish.'

Cartman smirks. 'I know. Anyway, it's starting to get dark. Let's make tracks.'

I nod in agreement and follow as Cartman tries to navigate our way back to the main entrance. Just as it comes into sight, Cartman stops me.

'Hey? That's that dickhole from the snack booth, right?'

I follow his gaze and sure enough, the redneck from the pizza stand walks by us. He doesn't appear to notice us as he enters a lone porta-potty next to a couple of trashcans. As the door clicks shut, Cartman and I exchange glances and grin devilishly. We silently get behind the porta-potty, resting our hands on the back of it and steadily leaning our weight forwards. Cartman gives the signal and we both push as hard as we can. Time seems slows down as the booth slowly topples over. The plastic booth hits the grass with a dull thud, and a torrent of shit spills out from underneath it. The echoing screams of the pizza guy can be heard from inside the booth as he cries out in anger and disgust. A crowd soon begins to gather, prompting Cartman to grab my hand and drag me away from the scene. Tears are streaming down his face as his distinct insane laughter fills the air. As we run as fast as we can out of the park to the bus stop, I'm laughing uncontrollably too.

At least I've learned something new today. Revenge isn't sweet – it's actually about 6 gallons of human waste instead.

* * * * *

By the time our bus reaches the outskirts of South Park, it's dark and lashing down with rain outside. This doesn't bother me at all. I've always loved the rain. When I was younger, I used to walk around in the rain in the dark whenever I was sad about something. How things change - I don't have anything to be sad about tonight. Cartman seems to be enjoying the weather too, tilting his head back to gaze up at the sky. He glances over at me and grins.

'Did I ever tell you how unbelievably poofy your hair gets when it rains?'

'Plenty of times,' I deadpan in response.

Cartman chuckles. 'Hey, let's go along the tracks by Kenny's. It's a shortcut.'

'Isn't that dangerous?'

'The tracks haven't been used in years, Kyle.' He rolls his eyes at me, starting off in the direction of a little side-street off the main road that leads down to the tracks. He glances at me over his shoulder. 'C'mon! Where's your sense of adventure, you friggin' dork?'

I scowl at his wide back as he walks out of sight. Goddamn it... I break into a run, yelling after him.

'Don't call me a dork, r-tard!'

I quickly catch up to him, hesitating before following him onto the tracks. It looks safe enough, but there's a lot of overgrown shrubbery on either side of us. I feel like there could be a thousand pairs of eyes in those bushes, watching our every move. Not to mention the fact that there's almost no light here, save for the sliver of moonlight breaking through the clouds above. On the plus side, we're quite sheltered from the rain in here, and if this is a shortcut we shouldn't be in here very long.

We continue on to an area that's even more closed in and dark than the previous one. There's a small brick bridge over this part of the track, which makes me recognise the area instantly – it's the part of the tracks from Cartman's photographs. I observe our gloomy surroundings and shudder.

'This place looked a lot more appealing in your pictures,' I say shakily.

When he doesn't reply, I turn around and find that he's disappeared. Shit!

'Cartman? Where the hell are you?'

Again, no reply. I know he's probably just messing around, but it doesn't stop my heart from pounding uncontrollably in my chest.

'This isn't funny, asshole! You're freaking me out!'

Before I can begin looking for him, I'm grabbed from behind and slammed up against the wall of the bridge. I manage to squirm around to look at my attacker, and almost scream when I'm faced with that fucked up clown mask. It stares at me for an agonisingly long time, motionless, head tilted slightly to the side. Jesus Christ, that's fucking horrible! I don't care if it's really Cartman under that thing, I'm really fucking freaked out right now.

'Well then,' he says huskily. 'What's a cute little thing like you doing out here by yourself?'

I'm too stunned and confused to reply.

'What's the matter, pretty boy?' he presses. 'You a mute or something?'

After a moment of silence, I hear a click and feel something press against my temple. It's the barrel of Cartman's toy gun.

'Answer me,' he growls, his voice low and threatening.

Ah...a new game. Interesting. I'm still not digging the clown mask, but I'll play along. I refuse to look at that hideous face as I speak.

'I was walking with my boyfriend. He's disappeared.'

I don't even have to fake the shaking in my voice, I'm genuinely that freaked out. Cartman lets out a deliciously thick chuckle from underneath his mask.

'Good,' he drawls. 'I'd hate for him to have to see what I'm about to do to you.' He steps back away from me and gestures at the ground with his gun. 'On your knees.'

'No.'

My decision to experiment with defying him results in a handful of my hair being grabbed forcefully. He pulls my head up, forcing me to look into the dark crimson eyes of that evil clown mask.

'I said, on your knees!' he spits.

I pretend to cry as he roughly forces me into a kneeling position. The butterflies in my stomach are going ballistic, though I can't decide whether it's down to the thrill of this situation, or fear of that fucking mask. When Cartman kneels down beside me, I squeeze my eyes shut just in case I accidentally catch sight of that face again.

'When I tell you to do something, you fucking do it,' he hisses in my ear. 'Got that, faggot? Do as I say and I might not kill you.'

He taps my forehead with the gun to make his point as he stands again.

'Now, suck it.'

I slowly open my eyes to find his clothed crotch in front of me and hesitantly reach forward for his zipper. He pulls away from me.

'Not that, homo. This.'

He brandishes the toy gun in front of my face. In such poor light, it looks realistic enough that it makes imagining this scenario a whole lot easier. I tentatively tease the front sight of the gun with my tongue before slowly take the barrel into my mouth. I boldly lift my hands, placing them on top of Cartman's and gripping the gun so that I can work it as if it were a cock. Cartman chuckles as his free hand clamps down on top of mine.

'Like that, fag?' he sneers. 'You like knowing that any second, my finger could slip and a bullet could fly into the back of your skull?'

I'm in no position to answer, the plastic gun clicking against my teeth as it rhythmically slides in and out of my mouth. A jolt of electricity seems to shoot through my insides whenever my bottom lip brushes against the finger pressed to the trigger. It's like part of me really believes that I could get shot. For some reason this notion goes straight to my crotch and I squirm as my cock starts to harden inside my jeans.

Without warning, the gun is tugged out of my mouth and my chin is lifted so that I'm looking up at Cartman's masked face. Rain drops splash down into my eyes as that pale expression of wickedness stares back at me for another long chilling moment. I feel my whole body shudder – I wonder if Cartman realises what his horrific prop is doing to me. I decide to play my part and force some tears into my eyes. In response, he slowly turns his body and gestures at the tracks next to us.

'Lie down on the tracks. Now.'

I gradually do as requested, my pitiful sniffling barely audible over the rain thundering off the ground. I'm soaked from head to foot as I lay down at Cartman's feet. He kneels next to me and quickly binds my wrists and ankles to the tracks with what feels like cable ties. God knows where the fuck he got those from. I gasp as he straddles my hips, pulling my t-shirt up and aggressively ravaging my chest with his fingernails. I whimper pathetically and squirm beneath him, prompting him to increase his grip on me. When he's done scratching the hell out of my chest, he violently yanks my jeans down and fondles my hardening cock roughly.

'Looks like you're enjoying this,' he says mockingly. 'I'm flattered.'

He spreads my legs a little, stroking his fingertips against my balls as his hand dips in between the cheeks of my ass. His broad fingers start invading me, the harsh friction against my entrance walls making my body convulse intensely. I moan throatily, staring up at the raindrops as they thunder down on my half naked body. It's not long before the fingers disappear and are replaced with a cold deformed lump of plastic. I yelp and squirm uncomfortably, trying to get used to the feeling of Cartman's gun pounding in and out of me. The rough geometric shape of the barrel presses down hard against pressure points inside of me, sending waves of excruciating pleasure through my nervous system.

I gasp harshly as Cartman's free hand takes hold of my cock and starts stroking firmly. I hear him chuckle when I start groaning, lost in an overwhelming blend of bliss and pain. He becomes so distracted by my moans that he loses his grip on the gun. It's in this moment that I remember that I'm meant to be the victim here – I should probably try to escape or something. I seize my chance as he fumbles to regain control of the gun and kick out at him. I think I catch him in the stomach and I struggle against my bond when he has a brief coughing fit. My struggling is to no avail and when Cartman regains his senses he grabs hold of my face tightly and forces me to look at him. The menacing face of the clown matches the tone of his voice perfectly.

'That was very fucking naughty of you. Now, your little friend here must suffer the consequences.'

The bag containing the goldfish is held up in front of my face. Huh? What the fuck is he planning on doing to the goldfish? He releases my face and moves with the bag out of my sight. Confused, I strain to hear some clue as to his next move will be. As Cartman repositions himself between my legs, I hear what sounds like a plastic bag being torn and water gushing. Oh, no... No way is he gonna do that! He's just yanking my chain. There's no way he's gonna do that to that poor fish!

Wrong. My eyes fly open in surprise as something cold, wet and wriggling is steadily pushed into my ass. I'm stunned. No fucking way! I don't fucking believe that he's done this. Jesus Christ, there's a goldfish in my ass! This is so fucked up and wrong, though you wouldn't know that I feel like that by the way my body's squirming in response to the fish's movement inside of me. It feels so gross, yet strangely familiar and pleasant at the same time - kind of like the time Cartman stuck his tongue inside me. No! I can't be enjoying this – I shouldn't! It's a live animal, for fuck's sake! However, before I can work out exactly how I'm feeling about this situation, the wriggling abruptly slows to a halt. Oh my God... I killed a goldfish!

I'm a bastard.

The evil clown face suddenly appears in front of me again. This time, I do cry out in fright.

'Oops,' he sniggers. 'Guess your tight ass was too much for Mr Goldfish...'

My face flushes the colour of those crimson eyes. I swear, there's something seriously wrong in my boyfriend's head! But I'll worry about that later. He raises himself up on his knees in between my legs and leans forward. I struggle theatrically when I feel the head of his cock press against my slick ravaged entrance.

'Let's see if it's too much for me.'

He thrusts his hips forward aggressively, penetrating me with his thick length. I writhe below him, gasping heavily when his fingernails dig into my hips and pin me to the cold wet dirt beneath me. My eyes instinctively lock on his face, and I'm once again chilled by that hideous mask. The combination of the pleasure, the horror and the mere idea that I'm supposed to be playing a rape victim is enough to make me start sobbing quietly. Over the sound of heavy rainfall, I can hear Cartman's contented groaning. His fingers stroke my chest affectionately, a sure sign that he approves of my performance.

'I bet I know what you want,' he murmurs. 'I bet you want me to come inside you? Don't you, gorgeous?'

'No! Please don't!' I whimper dramatically.

'Don't deny it. You know you want my hot load inside your beautiful ass.'

His thrusts become harder and more enthusiastic as we both gasp and moan feverishly, the rain still thundering down on top of us. As I feel myself nearing the edge, Cartman runs his powerful hands further up my chest to my shoulders. I turn my face away as he leans over me, so close that I can feel the curled hair of his mask brushing against my cheek.

'Please, let me go!' I groan. 'Haven't you tortured me enough?'

'Tortured you?' he snorts in between pants. 'I give you all this pleasure when my original plan was to kill you, and you accuse me of torturing you? How ungrateful!'

His fingertips tickle my neck gently before his hands take a firm grip of my throat. Alarmed, I turn my face to look at him, my stomach doing somersaults as that mask hovers only an inch above my face.

'Die happy, my love.'

He increases the pressure around my neck, cutting off both my breathing and the circulation to my brain. I start feeling dizzy and panic – what the fuck is he thinking? For a split second, I legitimately believe that I'm going to die. And in that same split second, I hit the hardest most intense orgasm I've ever had. His hands promptly release my neck in time for a euphoric scream to escape my lungs. Tremors of pleasure rock through my body as I feel Cartman empty his load inside of me. He collapses on top of me with a low moan, our simultaneous panting drowning out the sound of the downpour around us.

After a few minutes, I hear Cartman's flick knife open as he carefully cuts away the cable ties holding me to the tracks. The first thing I do when my hands are free is drag the mask from his face and throw it into a nearby bush. I never want to see that fucking thing again for as long as I live. When I'm totally free, I pull Cartman back down on top of me and give him a firm peck on the lips.

'Oh my God,' I exclaim. 'That was so fucking intense!'

'Thought you might enjoy it.' Cartman chuckles. 'By the way, I'll have to show you how to delete an Internet history sometime.'

Oops. I forgot about that. I must look like a deer caught in headlights right now. I think I've got a little explaining to do.

'Shit. Look, I swear I wasn't using your computer specifically to-'

He holds up a hand to silence me. 'Kyle, it's fine. I'm not one of those jealous nutsacks that freaks out when their partner watches porn. But you know, if you ever wanna try something new you should just say so.'

He smiles at me reassuringly, and I suddenly feel really stupid. I should have known that all along. I'll never hold back from him again.

'No matter what you want, I won't think any less of you for it,' he continues. 'It's not like I don't know what a kinky sick queer-mo you are already.'

He seems to subconsciously glance over to his left as he says this. I follow his gaze and to my surprise, the goldfish is still alive, happily swimming around in its bag. What the hell...?

'Oh, I'm a sick queer-mo?' I growl. 'You're the one that pretended to shove a goldfish up my ass! What the fuck was that?'

Cartman looks at me like I'm retarded. 'My pinky finger. What else? In any case, you're the one who let me do it!' He grins. 'And you actually enjoyed it! There's simply no depth as to how low you'll sink to get off, huh?'

'Look who's talking, you twisted fuck! Why would you even think to do something like that?'

'I was testing your limits, freak-job! I didn't think you'd actually let me go ahead with it! You do remember the safe word, right?'

'Of course I do! I just didn't expect you to stick a live animal up my ass!'

'Perhaps you would have preferred a toy soldier up there instead?'

'Yes! I mean, no! Damn it!' He breaks into peals of laughter, and I can feel my face turning purple with embarrassment. 'Shut up. Fat sicko.'

He grins, unaffected by the insult. 'Scrawny pervert.'

'Warped racist asshole.'

'Dirty Christ killer.'

'Fucking ass master.'

Cartman snorts. 'I think you'll find that you're the ass master, Jew. It's such a shame that we don't know anyone with a gerbil.'

'Fuck off,' I snarl.

'You know, I'm pretty sure Butters still keeps hamsters, though I'm not sure he'd appreciate-'

'Fuck off, I said!' I pout angrily, much to Cartman's amusement. 'Why the hell are we still lying here in the rain anyway?'

He nuzzles his face into my chest. 'Cos it's sexy.'

'Yeah, pneumonia's really fucking hot.' I deadpan. 'Move, fatass.'

Cartman reluctantly gets up off of me and helps me to my feet once I've pulled my jeans back up. We trudge home together, wet and filthy from our activities. It doesn't take us too long to get home, so hopefully we won't both be loaded with influenza come tomorrow morning. When we reach Cartman's front door, he turns the key in the lock and turns to face me before opening up.

'Well, Kyle...thank you for a lovely evening.'

He smiles coyly and pulls me close. I lean up and wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my lips to his. His arms tighten around my waist as he kisses me back, and my stomach flutters. Our kiss seems to last forever, but it still isn't long enough for me. When it ends, we pull back to look at each other, still wrapped in each other's embrace.

'Thank you,' I whisper.

'Wanna come inside for...coffee?' he asks, winking.

I raise an eyebrow, smirking playfully. 'Are you sure? After all, it is only our first date.'

Cartman looks thoughtful for a moment. 'Well, if coffee doesn't float your boat, I'll see if I can find a small animal to shove up your ass instead.'

Goddamn it! He's never gonna let me live that down, is he? Fucker. He laughs when I punch him in the arm, then drags me through the open doorway and slams the door shut behind us. I should have known that a date with Eric Cartman would have ended with me being sore, wet and mentally traumatised. But all things considered, this is the best first date I've ever had.

* * * * *

Please note that no goldfishes were harmed in the production of this fan fiction!

I haven't really got very much to say as part of my closing author notes this time around. Just that hopefully I'll be able to update a bit quicker from now on as work have been a lot more merciful with my working hours lately. Long may it continue!

I hope that you enjoyed Kyle and Cartman's first date as much as they did. The next chapter will mostly revolve around Kyle meeting up with Gerald and Ike, though I'm planning on having Kenny appearing at some point. And more kinky Kyle/Cartman sex stuff. So, watch this space!

Thanks for reading!

DD

xx