Warning for non-con.

Mysterion did not know where he was held captive, as it was in pitch darkness. The sun never rose when he had expected it to, and there was no light to answer his questions. For a better half of his time spent, he was infuriated, desperate to split through the nylon locking his wrists together. Not even a Netherborn could free himself of secure binds, even if they were of this world.

"Well well well, Mysterion. You're still trussed up here, cute as a pig."

Relief and a shot of fear swept over him when the silence was broken, seeing the familiar loafers level with himself as he knelt. They were matched in presence by a painted hand while the rest of Eric was swallowed in shadow. "Mitch Conner," he greeted it with civility, despite the surging, explosive feeling in his chest. He had to ask, "What the fuck?"

"It's been three days. Three days into the past, that is."

"You mean…"

"Time travel. The amazing butthole isn't the only thing that can take us back to the Stick of Truth, if he wanted. I have my own time machine, or should I say Eric did before I claimed it. That's what they're doing out there." There was a distant clanging of steel on steel, though the room was still dimly lit, shutters slammed over the windows. "Fighting the Moors to claim supremacy over the land. Today is the day before you started playing superheroes."

"Fine, whatever," Mysterion muttered, barely listening anymore. It was hard not to think about rocking tits, ready to squeeze against his throbbing dick. "Where's Scrambles?"

"He's in this home's attic," said the creature. "Sheltered where all the other kitty cats Eric used to keep would stay." So they were in the Cartman household, but that wasn't much to assume.

"I guess… Cartman, you were right." He paused, trembling in place. Three days meant he hadn't jacked off in three days. This was agony. "You win. You played god with drugs, and you got me, along with the rest of South Park. You're the fucking kingpin..." he said absently while he he craned against his binds in search of Eric's face. He liked Stick of Truth over this. At least the King had been honest.

Mitch Conner looked surprised at his words. "What," said the netherborn. "Did you think I was Kyle? I believe you."

"We've time travelled to another period, it's the Stick of Truth out there right now—- "

"Coon… I haven't jacked off in three days."

A long period of silence aggravated him, before a reply, softer than before: "The Coon isn't here, Kenny."

His head was pounding. None of this make sense. Against his cheek he felt Mitch Conner's chill.

"The reason, you see, was to destroy Mysterion. There was nothing I missed more than the lady of Zaron."

Zaron? It hurt to remember the Stick of Truth. The right arm reached over his bonds, Mysterion could see from the edge of his vision. He felt helpless there.

"You're addicted to cheese because of the high concentration of the drug I contaminated your water with. It's an aphrodisiac in high amounts. You've already figured out by now that my headquarters are located just behind your home. That wasn't difficult to arrange."

Hating his 48-hour boner, Mysterion groaned.

"The only thing that's left is to make Princess Kenny come back. You were immune to the Raisins whores' charms. I suspected the doses were not enough to break you, there needed to be more."

Dazedly he said, "Cartman, I already told you. I'm already too horny for this. What is it that you want? Sex? Don't kid yourself that I haven't noticed this kinky setup."

"How many times do I have to say it? Cartman isn't here."

What still looked like Cartman leaned forward and snagged at the cape with a free hand and pulled away Mysterion's emblematic shirt. His breath hitched as the multiples layers were removed bringing back a single memory with Cartman. He still had trouble believing this wasn't Eric, and was bursting with rage.

"I already tried having sex with you twice, and you blew me off! And NOW it's fine? When you're MITCH FUCKING CONNER?" He yelled while his dick was practically popping out of his tights and his now fallen trunks.

He was turned over and his bare ass in the air, embarrassingly enough. He didn't like being treated this way in front of a puppet. Even if it was just another personality of Cartman's.

"It's just you and me, McCormick. I intend more than to pleasure ourselves, I mean to break everything that Mysterion represents. I will undo the mistake that is playing superheroes. Here's the deal… I give you a rimjob, and you turn into the princess? Fair?"

"What?"

An entity with the same width and fleshiness of Eric's hand poked into Kenny's ass. It intruded like a boulder.

"No no no no, you're forgetting..."

Mitch Conner stopped. Kenny's face was still pressed into the carpeting.

Someone in there must have remembered something. There was a putrid, intoxicating splash on his face, on his backside, everywhere. Mysterion moaned, slipping into another world with more colors and greater sensations than this one. The lips of the hand became wet as real ones, too, and Mysterion succumbed to his enemy's perversity.

"We can rule together, Princess Kenny. It was me who consummated our love."

Mysterion could not contend that they were playing superheroes, dwelling silently on the Don Felder playing in his head and soothing lick of Mitch Conner's "tongue". But in his head, it wasn't Mitch Conner. The murmurs faded and it was a tall blonde wearing hardly anything (perhaps nothing at all) roving her tongue around into him. Charmingly. As if she cared.

Next he gave him a real blow, oh yes more than the Raisins pretended, and the vigilante began to squeak feeling a busty woman deepthroating him. All in his mind was to ride the high underneath him relentlessly.

He did not deny a finger when it was offered. Wantonly he sucked it, soaking it in his hungry saliva.

Completely pure, fully open, thought the Kingpin. Mitch Conner lets out his truth.

"I'm doing only what that boy Eric couldn't. I told him all along not to like Mysterion. He's just a fake mask, a fake interpretation of the princess. In his dreams, of course. There's no way the coward child could admit to having feelings for you."

The high had passed and he turned lucid again. The fantasy was broken, and Kenny frowned. Mitch Conner was still locked around his dick in a patient, thrumming motion that could bore a cow. The ill-fated orgasm was not hitting.

"I only wanted the large breasted woman!" he protested, unable to make eye contact in his position. He leaned his weight into his elbows and pushed upward, in intent to collide with the fat mass behind him.

"That's not true!" The kingpin took grave offense and that mass pushed back at his rising rear. The elbows slammed back on the floor and his meat suddenly deprived of the contact. A sharp cry and Kenny declined into a new kind of agony.

"She was a second pick before Eric."

"That's true," he choked pathetically. "But Eric, won't you finish what you started?"

The hand was not angry with this misnomer this time. It grew cold, as if full of hate. "Of course, Kenny. Eric will finish what he started."

Arms curled around at his shallow ribs and in this motion his rear again locked against the central mass behind him.

"Fine! Do you wish to see how the Coon would treat you? This is precisely what the Coon feels about you!"

The contact felt like fire in his deprivation, his penis willing to burst, all the while the hug turned to asphyxiate him.

"Is this how you want me to hurt you?"

Kenny was turning too blue to nod, despite the overwhelming impulse to comply.

"And this? Is this what you want, Princess Kenny?"

Fingers pushed into his rear entrance but these were not that of Mitch Conner. They had pointed, silver-tipped claws. A sharp sound erupted from Kenny's throat.

"Is this what it takes to have you back?"

A second hand wrapped around his dick, one that must have belonged to Mitch but… it yanked and stretched his dick without restraint. Kenny's eyes bulged, not having taken a breath since the constriction. He began to cry as his vision blurred. His whole body feeling about to stretch and burst, colliding with his imminent betrayal. Did Mitch Conner not promise not to kill him?

He did not have the strength to say: You're wrong, Mitch. Princess Kenny was here all along.

The door flew open, loud stompings into the room which seemed to reverberate through the floor underneath him. Kenny gasped loudly when he was released and Mitch Conner's accent exclaimed something crude, with abrupt pause. Recognizable to his experience, he heard the sound of a brutal series of punches. Then came sudden crunching and a gurgling sound of pain. Usually that was accompanied by his own death, and yet Kenny felt entirely alive.

His boots, one of the few clothing pieces he still wore, became very wet.

The intruder yelled, "Oh my god! Kenny? Mysterion! Are you okay?"

It was Cartman. He allowed himself to breathe the name Eric, falling sideways on the ground as his savior crouched to his level. This brunet boy peered and stared at nothing but the other's face. It was clear that the object soaking his feet was a swollen and broken corpse, blood seeping from his bashed head, and Kenny did not have much doubt of whose that was.

"It's okay, Mysterion. I killed him. You're safe now," he told him.

That Cartman, along with his host, was dead. In his place, now undoing his binds with frantic concern, was Eric. This Eric wore a mask, just as the Coon did. Yet the hands freeing him and pulling his pants and shirt back into place were clean of lipstick. Kenny sobbed in a sudden burst of happiness.

They stepped over the beaten and crushed body, not minding the gore staining the carpeting that would have to be cleaned. What was left of Mysterion could barely walk after all the toxins, drugs, and the strangling, but the Coon supported him out through the door. Cape and cloak merged together like a blanketed shield, and they waited for when Butthole would inevitably set back time.