Chapter 5

"When you made me promise that I had to help you get a 4.0 GPA, that wasn't a promise to do your work FOR YOU," Wendy was annoyed and in Cartman's room- two things that she wasn't happy about.

"Well, it's not my fault that you're a terrible teacher," Cartman whined, sounding nasal even in his deeper voice.

"If you think that you're going to get me to go back on my word just so you can win, you have another thing coming!" Wendy scoffed and crossed her arms.

"That would make sense," he replied, "If I didn't also want to get that fucking car!"

Wendy had to admit that he was making sense.

"Fine," she replied, "But you have to get over here and help me go over the anthropology test. If you don't help out, you're going to bomb on the test and you're not going to get that 4.0."

She started reciting off the mock test questions and he started answering her, often creating funny quips or silly asides about the subject matter.

"OOOH, watch out!" he said in an exaggerated tone, "It's MONKEY RADIATION!"

"You know that's not what it means!" Wendy laughed, and even though she knew there were big things at stake, she felt herself relaxing around him.

"So, what does that mean, you get enough monkeys together and you get MONKEY NUCLEAR FUSION?" he was gesturing in the air for the full effect and Wendy found herself practically rolling on the ground with mirth.

Things actually went quite well with studying until around three hours into their study session. They heard a lot of shouting and screaming. One of Ms. Cartman's "clients" was getting upset. Cartman put his hands over his ears and closed his eyes.

"Eric, what's wrong?" She didn't use his first name very often, but this was the first time she used it out of concern.

"I just don't want to have to fucking listen to that whore anymore!" he said loudly, hands over ears.

She looked at the door, hearing a man's voice loudly shouting a large string of horrible things. No wonder he had such a colorful language. Wendy started to feel a pang of guilt for being so hard on him in the past.

"Don't fucking feel sorry for me," he was glaring at her, "This is my life- I deal with it."

She knew that he was still plugging his ears, so she did the only thing she could think of. She got up and curled up next to him, putting her hands over his to shut out the sound even more. He didn't say a word in return, nor did he try to move her hands. She just leaned into him with her hands there until the voices dropped away to nothing, and even then, they stayed like that for awhile longer, closing eyes, blocking out the world as though maybe, just maybe, they could escape everything that made them who they were if they just tried hard enough.

It wasn't until later that Wendy thought sadly to herself, "Sure Cartman, you always get what you want...except when you don't."

That evening in her bedroom, she started to doubt herself, her resolve. What was she even doing- taking advantage of him- taking advantage of his screwed up life and his ability to pull strings?

'Oh my god, am I just as bad as he is- no, maybe worse because I'm not even honest with myself about this shit?' she thought to herself.

Her phone buzzed, bringing her back from her reverie.

WHY DID YOU HAVE TO MAKE THIS SO HARD? it said.

She blushed, thinking to herself that maybe, maybe he had changed- or maybe it wasn't that he had changed at all, but she was actually seeing him as he actually was- that before, that was all the bullshit- that she was reading his actions through her own civility and need for social graces. But then she pushed the down button for "more" and noticed he had attached a picture of his penis-his ERECT penis.

"Oh gross!" she shouted, dropping the phone like it WAS a penis, "No, I was right- he is a fucking asshole."

But she was curious. And there was no one else in the room. She crawled down on hands and knees to retrieve her phone, which had scooted under her bed a bit. She'd seen penises before- after all, this was South Park- they had them grafted to MICE. But this was, all things considered, a pretty nice penis. If she didn't know it was attached to...him...she might even be able to think...GAH WHAT WAS SHE EVEN THINKING? But she couldn't help herself, and part of her cursed him for sending it to her. She couldn't judge size, but god, it was hard and it was sent specifically for her. Without really noticing it, she became suddenly aware at how hot she felt below her panties, and she blushed when she realized that this was from looking...at...Eric's...

She shut the phone, but she couldn't get it out of her head- it was etched in her head. Her horniness just kept increasing by the minute until she could hardly stand it anymore. Her panties felt like they were getting wetter by the minute...all because of some stupid fucking picture.

'Am I really going to...?' She couldn't help but get onto her bed and spread her legs so she could rub against the parts of her body begging to be touched, begging to feel that release of pressure and desire and need. A surge of anger in her brain- this was fucking unfair of him!- was quickly overtaken by the sexual aching that ran through her clitoris and up around her vaginal lips until it kissed pleasure into her womb. She felt alive, buzzing with this sexual pressure- over some stupid cock pic- but god, it was him, it was-why the hell did it have to be him?

With expert fingers, she began to touch herself in the way that she knew best, tracing the folds of her body in ways that she had figured out through trial and error (but mostly error), and found herself edging- not wanting to come but wanting to hold onto that silver sunshine of pleasure building up upon itself and growing until it's unbearable, denying herself and starting over again, reaching higher plateaus until she could stand it no more and her entire body is finally vibrating with the orgasm- her body clenches around a phantom penis, the one in her head that she can't un-see, and her clit feels like it's going to border on pain if she keeps touching it like this. Her breathing is hard, ragged until she begins to come out of the orgasm-induced haze.

She had to replace her soaked panties, but that was fine- it was worth it. As horrible as it was to think about the logistics of the whole situation, the long and the short of it was the fact that this picture was fucking HOT and it did something to her that she had never fully felt before, even with her brief forays into Internet porn. And that brought her to the thought that-oh god-was he doing it at the same time as she was? She needed to get revenge on him- some sign that she knew what he was up to and that she wasn't really as shaken as she actually was.

Then she got an idea. And she knew what she would have to do.

'Just you wait, Eric,' she thought to herself, 'I'm going to one-up YOU this time.'

Wendy was actually not too far off in her assessment. Cartman was sitting in his room feeling the itch- the one that made him imagine Wendy doing not-so-innocent things in innocuous poses that he'd filed away in his head for years. That time she bent over to pick up a pencil on school picture day- the day she always wore a short skirt. The time when she was running with Bebe past the house and OH GOD THOSE TITS. The time he saw her running on the track, breathing heavily and opening her mouth to catch her breath- he imagined her like that if they ever...

He clenched his fist, cursing his hard-on, poking out into the soft fabric of his boxers. God, she always made him feel this way and he hated that fact. But then he got a wicked look in his eyes and thought to himself- why should HE be the only one to think naughty thoughts? He pulled back the flap on the boxers and his cock sprang free from them. He loved how it always seemed to spring up when he was really horny- a prime specimen of manhood, he always thought, but not in a gay way or anything, he reminded himself. He pulled out his cell phone and clicked to take a picture while he was still feeling brave, posting the short little message and sending it as an attachment to Wendy's cell. He imagined her receiving it, smiling thinking of her throwing it to the floor and going on about how gross it was.

He wondered what she would say if she saw it in real life- if she was placed face to face with how she made him feel in moments of weakness. He imagined her frustrated look as she licked the tip of his cock, making him twitch. Stroking himself with his hand, using some saliva for lubrication, he couldn't help but stroke himself slowly building a rhythm, imaging her sucking him, riding him, begging for his cum, would he suck her tits please, god no, he couldn't stop. He came messily, semen shooting out onto his boxers, a bit landing onto the arm of his chair. It was so good when it was her...why did it have to be so fucking good? He realized that he'd made a mess and reached for some tissues- usually he didn't space out like that. But she had...she had kissed him, she had covered his ears and cuddled close to him too.

'Yeah, but she only did that because she felt sorry for you,' his inner voice told him, 'You practically pushed that kiss on her.'

A wave of shame washed over him- when did he turn into one of those manipulative jerks, when did he stop being so transparent- when did he actually get to a point where he actually could stand to lose something he found precious? He crumpled the semen-stained tissue into his fist. God, he needed to win, he needed to win so badly. He couldn't be satisfied until she was HIS. Forever. He wanted to punch her, kiss her, kill her, kill himself. It was so messy, it was so wrong, but god, he wanted it.