Merry Christmas! I got you updated porn! Hooray! First time in over a year. Hope you enjoy!

A cold splash of water woke Kenny screaming. Large rough hands gripped his head tightly, forcing a bright red ball gag into his mouth and strapping the black elastic around his head. Kenny's screams transformed into moaning and he heard the sound of hearty laughter echoing all around. He opened his eyes.

He was chained to some sort of platform, upright with his arms and legs spread wide. His naked body shivered beneath a large spot light; he'd been drenched from head to toe with ice cold water. Kenny blinked in the harsh light, temporarily unable to see beyond his own sorry predicament.

"Beautiful, isn't he, brothers?" A smooth voice spoke out side of Kenny's line of vision; A voice he instantly recognized. The man who'd bought him from his parents, who had pulled a black bag over his head and carried him into a car with leather seats. How long ago had that been? That car was the last thing Kenny could remember. How his buyer had pushed him down on the floor and several rough pairs of hands stripped him of his clothing. What had they done with his clothes? Kenny squirmed against the heavy chains, searching for his parka. The beloved orange parka that had been his only protection, even if just from the cold.

"Brothers!" The buyer spoke again. "This is Kenny, especially bought and trained with your generous donations. No parents or police will ever come to steal him from us. He is our own, forever and for always. Please, help me welcome him into the ranks of The Super Adventure Club!"

Rambunctious applause exploded in front of him and Kenny strained his eyes to see what hell lay before him. He was in some sort of meeting hall. It was large and tastefully decorated with a red floral print carpet. Through out the room, old men and middle aged men at round tables. Some wore suits, others t-shirts and jeans and various assortments of colored robes. All of them stared up at Kenny, raised on a center stage. Their eyes were greedy. An icy terror, colder than the water, chilled Kenny to the bone. A tall figure, clothed only in a black robe, stepped in front of him placing a moist, wrinkled hand on his cheek.

"Hello again, Kenny."

Kenny snarled, jerking away from his hand. The old man laughed and grabbed his cheek again, this time harder, pulling Kenny towards him. He placed a moist chapped kiss on Kenny's lips. Kenny squirmed in rage and discomfort. He'd been kissed before, his father, mother and older brother had all pulled similar stunts, as part of his training. This kiss though, it was painful and more disgusting than he remembered from his family. It felt like a brand. When the old man finally pulled away, Kenny spat furiously, trying to get the taste out of his mouth. The old man laughed.

"You see what spirit he has, brothers?" His buyer called to the crowd. The crowd applauded, shouting cat calls and whooping. The buyer smiled. "If you'll form a line… we can break it."

For a moment, Kenny wasn't sure where he was, He knew he wasn't asleep because the nightmares had been replaced by darkness. Kenny never saw darkness when he was asleep. The moment he closed his eyes, the memories would flood back; every awful, pain filled moment he had to carry for the rest of his life. Most kids were afraid of the dark but Kenny found it comforting. It meant they would leave him alone, for at least a while.

After three years, he'd have thought he would be used to it, the darkness and pain. As it was, Kenny was constantly blinded. Blinded by the darkness when he was tossed back into the dank dungeon where their captors kept him and his fellow sex slaves and blinded again by the light when they took him to "play" in the upper levels. Any time his eyes adjusted, they just moved him again.

The dungeon door opened and a brief blinding light was cast across the hard concrete floor. Kenny winced at the sudden illumination, interrupted only by a small body tossed into the room like a used towel. Kenny didn't have to see to know who it was. The boy fell hard on the concrete floor of the dungeon. Kenny looked back toward the door as the dim light grew rapidly smaller, incasing them in darkness again. Once the door was closed, he heard his comrades in suffering move and whisper again. They always froze when one of the men entered.

Kenny stood and walked to wear the boy had landed. He'd managed to keep from passing out, a first for this particular boy. He was already trying to move, moaning softly. Kenny reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

"K-kenny?" The voice was a small and hesitant. The younger boy flinched at his touch. Kenny couldn't blame him.

"Hey, Butters." Kenny said, lifting him to his feet. "You okay?"

"I- I'm okay..." Kenny knew it was a lie. None of them were okay. There were seven slaves in all and each of them was trapped in the most fucked up situations imaginable. Asking was simply a way to let the others know that someone cared about them. "Thank you."

"What are you thanking me for, kid?" Kenny said, reaching his hand out for the wall. They slid down against it, ignoring the scratch of the concrete against their bare skin. Butters leaned against Kenny, allowing his head to rest on his shoulder. They were both naked but that hardly mattered anymore. Kenny hadn't worn clothing for three years, not including the demeaning costumes that his masters occasionally forced him on to him. He hadn't had any clothes since the day his parents sold him.

The leash nearly suffocated him as they pulled him roughly on to the seat cushion. Kenny heard a car door slam as he struggled to breath. He clawed at the black bag around his head, desperate to see what was going on.

Kenny shook his head, trying not to think about it. What was the good of being awake if you nightmares continued to haunt you? It was no good, of course. In the silence and cold of the dungeon, there was nothing to do but remember.

"Hold him down!" Kenny recognized the voice of the man who'd come to his house a week before to inspect him as merchandise. Kenny squirmed fruitlessly as several large hands enclosed around his limbs, holding him still. The black bag was pulled away and Kenny gasped in the air.

He was held on the floor of a moving vehicle, probably some kind of limousine. It was carpeted. Several grown men, each at least forty, grinned down at him. Kenny swore and his hands balled into fists.

"By all means, continue to struggle." His buyer told him. "It's very entertaining, though entirely pointless. Remove his clothing, gentlemen."

His sweat pants were torn away and placed in a garbage bag before he could even tell them to fuck off. He managed to break one arm away and punch someone when they took his hoodie. In his entire life, that orange hoodie may have been the only thing that ever protected him out of everything, even if it was only from freezing to death on his parent's floor.

The old man laughed and shoved his beloved hoodie into the trash bag. Then, pulling a lighter from his pocket, he lit the bag on fire, tossing it out the window as Kenny screamed. The men just laughed and his buyer wished him a "happy birthday".

"Kenny?" Butters said, saving him from his memory.

"What?"

"I'm sorry…" He could hear Butters sniff through the darkness, feel his tears

"Don't be sorry." He said firmly. He knew exactly what Butters meant. Everyone went through these feeling at some point. The other kids had been taken away from their families by force. Out of the seven of them, only Kenny had been sold into slavery. Only Kenny had been groomed and trained from the day he came out of the womb. The others… they could barely process what had happened to them. After a while, it became easiest to blame themselves. At least then they had a reason.

But Kenny wouldn't allow that. "None of this is your fault, okay? It's their fault." Kenny shook with rage but softened his tone. "You're just a kid. You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you." Butters mumured. "You're a kid too."

Kenny scoffed. He'd never been a kid. He was raised to be a sex slave, it was the reason for his conception. He was old too, nearly sixteen or maybe he was already a bit older than that. Butters was only thirteen. The same age Kenny was when he was sold.

Kenny's stomach growled but he knew better than to ask if there was any food. Their masters kept them half starved. Between that and the electrical shocks delivered for bad behavior, when more old fashioned punishments were not readily available, kept them relatively docile. Exhausted, Butters leaned closer against Kenny. They were silent, though neither one could sleep.

Another scream shot out in the darkness. If Kenny had been able to sleep, he would have woken up. Unfortunately, he had enough screams inside his own head without dealing with the rest of the group. Still, it'd do no good to yell at the kid to shut up. God knew they had earned their screams

He stood. Butters shook awake at his movement. Kenny patted his head reassuringly and the smaller boy let go of his arm.

Kenny stepped carefully across the stone dungeon, trying to avoid any sleeping prisoners, toward the screams. He found the source, as he knew he would, huddled in the corner, furthest from the door. He crouched down next to it.

"Tweak. You're screaming again."

"Agh!" He jumped at Kenny's touch. The other boy sighed.

"What's wrong, Tweak?" It was like asking what was made of matter.

"Ack! Kenny!" He was awake now. Tweak had been there long enough for Kenny to learn which screams meant what. Prolonged, consistant screaming meant Tweak had fallen asleep and the nightmares inevitably returned. Short, piercing screams meant he was surprised again. He'd screamed once upon awakening and once more when he recognized Kenny.

"Tweak! Calm down."

"S-sorry." Tweak swallowed the rest of his panic, shaking violently. "Sorry."

"It's okay." Kenny said. "I know you don't mean to."

Tweak shivered under his finger tips. "They're gonna pick me again! I know it! They're gonna pick me!"

Kenny said nothing. He couldn't even lie to the boy anymore and say he was imagining it. Their masters probably would pick Tweak again and force him into one of their twisted games. He hadn't been picked in two or three days. Tweak was due.

"I can't take it." Tweak muttered, clutching his head between his hands. "I can't take it, Kenny! Don't let them pick me again."

"I'll do my best." Kenny said. He knew his best would never get the job done, it never had before but it was all he could say to comfort the boy. He'd try, of course. He'd try as he always did to stop the men who came for them, to protect the others in that dank, dingy dungeon. It wasn't a conscious choice. He had to at least try and protect them. These kids were the closest thing to family he had. Kenny had been there the longest, it was his job to help the younger kids; kids like Butters and Tweak. They always broke first.

Kenny had been there for years. He wondered if he were broken yet.

Okay, so this is a weird kind of story because shortly after writing the first part in addition to the lovely comments you all sent me, I realized it would be very very hard for me not have this just be tales of pedophillia, which is not AT ALL what I want to write. I know it's just fiction but it's still intensely awkward for me. Yet, I do what to continue rather than just leave the blondes of south park in this horrible condition. I don't know how I would do this but... I want to do it. So, for now, the story remains in progress. Rest assured it may be another year or more before it updates again. Sorry but there it is.

Thanks for you patience and, I hope, reviews.