Slight trigger warning on this one. This also has a rare appearance of Stuart McCormick.

Thanks for all of you reading and reviewing, it truly means so much. You're all amazing.

Chapter Six: I Am the Dirt You Created

"You're doin' your mama and me proud, son," Kenny's face remained stoic as he stepped out of the old pickup truck in Denver. He kept his mouth shut, walked away from the truck, and was enveloped into the darkness of the alley.

His world started falling to shit when he woke up in the middle of the night eight months ago to his parents screaming at each other. About Karen. Specifically about how she was the age where men would pay big money for a go with her; she was only twelve years old.

Kenny remembered the awful sobs that overtook his mom as she begged his dad to not subject her baby to that pain. But Stuart wouldn't budge.

That was when he walked into the tiny kitchen and dining room and as strong as he could said, "I'll do it." He figured he at least knew enough, and it would be easy enough for him to get laid. He had a feeling something like that would happen. His mom's arms held him tight that night as she rocked and sang him to sleep. Kenny would never forget feeling her tears fall down his cheeks and her quiet whispers of, "my baby…" and "I'm so sorry…"

But he wasn't her baby anymore and she wasn't sorry enough to fix the problem. She was sorry for the life she subjected them to but was too scared to step out of line just once more. Though he had been victim to the consequences of pushing the boundaries so he understood; he usually bit his tongue and punched at the walls in the middle of the night. He just wished he was good enough to fight for.

So the next day he set out on a mission to lose his virginity with someone he actually slightly cared about rather than the person with the most cash, who would have most likely been a middle-aged hooker who hadn't seen action in years or some old filthy rich asshole who would make him call him "daddy" before he sucked him off.

Thankfully he wasn't the only one looking to lose his v-card. It just so happened Bebe Stevens had gotten in a fight with her long-time boyfriend Clyde Donovan and they had declared a break. A few winks throughout the day and a couple of suggestive comments later the two blondes lay naked on her bed, tangled in wrinkled sheets and left to wonder if it would ever get better than that. It wasn't like what they had been told.

Kenny wouldn't make it if he were a prostitute who sucked at sex. But thankfully Bebe was up for practice.

The only thing Karen understood out of what Kenny had done for her was he was working a lot lately. But to Kenny it meant the world. It meant she could preserve the fragments of her innocence and youth before she realized how fucked up the McCormick name really was.

He worked four days a week at the convenience store outside of South Park from 5:00 p.m. to midnight. It brought in enough money for his family to pay the gas to get him to Denver; he kept a fourth of his earnings to himself. On the weekend he worked in Denver. His time with friends was minimal; only school association. By the time he was able to text them back he would be passed out at home or at Stark's Pond. Or he killed himself.

Kenny walked into the building off the alley and walked back to the dressing room. From 7:00-10:00 he worked at a strip club on Easy Colfax because his mom actually preferred him working there and "showcasing" his body rather than "selling it." Of course they had lied and said he was eighteen; but they couldn't tell he was four years younger than that. Thankfully, the summer before eighth grade had allowed him to have a growth spurt to where he stood at an average 5'9" along with his friends. He was still growing though; he felt it. And of course, he was the skinniest body there but he was pure muscle so that had to count for something. Plus the boss appreciated the fact that he was the most flexible. And he had a killer singing voice; so he earned good tips.

He ended his Friday nights going from hotel room to apartment to quiet house, where he'd give it to five women or men, depending on the night. He was only a pitcher or he'd give blow jobs; the men didn't mind. They always told him he was the best fuck they ever had. Which he could believe because every thrust and every touch to him was making more money. He was desperate.

Throughout the entire week he earned about $450; he had the record of being the cheapest whore.

So Kenny danced and stripped to nothing but a g-string thong, contorted himself, and pushed himself farther and farther every night. His outgoing endeavors with the crowd earned him more tips, so he kept them coming. And as he gave the females a lap dance, he bit his lip to keep from pulling away from their touches. As he gave the males a lap dance, he felt his throat tighten as he felt their protruding members so close to his shattered innocence. But they loved it.

He opened the doors to the dressing room and sighed heavily. The other men were talking and laughing; he kept quiet and quickly changed into his after-show attire; a pair of black skinny jeans that he could hardly squeeze himself into, a pair Bebe had found for him, which showed just how skeletal he still looked, and a zip-up orange hoodie that clung to his body just right. He wore nothing under that. A pair of thrift-shop black Doc Martens covered his feet and his hair was teased ever so slightly to give him the "sex hair" look. Makeup lightly lined his eyes and shadowed his lids with a light, smokey effect.

He felt eyes on him from the other dancers as he put his bag in his locker and slowly walked out through the side door. He walked four blocks east and settled with leaning against a building with his long legs outstretched; he often compared himself to a daddy-long-leg spider.

Kenny listened to the other people around him; the whores were all talking or working their magic. He always waited and watched; he hated doing it with the desperate. After the bottom-feeders were wiped out the high rollers came in; and that's who he aimed for.

It was now going on 1:30 and he yawned in his sleeve. The November air was freezing, but that was Colorado. The streets were quiet. His stomach knotted from hunger and nervousness. He had been doing this for eight months now, so he was used to the nerves. He absolutely loathed this but it brought them money and they had had electricity for the past two months so he couldn't really complain. The question, "How much longer?" never crossed his mind anymore. He knew the answer to that and he couldn't stand to hear it.

"K-Kenny sure woulda loved that!"

Wait. Was that Butters?

"Where is he anyway?" He heard another familiar voice ask. Kyle. That had to be Kyle; his ears were not deceiving him. And by the sound of their voices, they were way too close. He had to find someone. Now.

"Hey, Goldilocks," Kenny heard a gruff woman speak, "you're in my fuckin' territory."

Kenny could call it in for the night. He had earned enough money to appease his dad and his mom hated knowing he was prowling the streets. He could sneak passed before his friends found him.

"Sorry," he mumbled and pulled himself off of the building. She let out a barking laugh and he walked down the next block with his head low, hood up, and his hands in his pockets.

"Hey, kid." He looked up again and saw Brett, one of the strippers he worked with. "You want some extra money, right?" Kenny hesitated, gulped, then nodded. "I'm so fucking sick of watching you. You don't know what you do; you're like Magic fucking Mike. I'll give you half of my tips tonight if you…" Brett's brown eyes bore into his blue and Kenny felt his stomach clench.

"I'm only a topper."

"I'll change that, babe." Kenny felt the air leave his lungs as a chill crept down his spine. No, definitely not. This wasn't going to happen. "I mean, after all, wearing clothes like that, you're asking for it."

Kenny winced as Brett pushed him against the wall and pinned his hands over his head. He whimpered as he felt the older man's hand slide down his back to cup his ass. Kenny sucked in a breath as he felt Brett's hot breath on his neck.

"Stop," Kenny gasped out as his knees began to buckle from Brett's ministrations on his neck.

"$85; it's more than you'd make now..."

The blonde's cheeks began to flush and he couldn't ignore the hand crawling into the back of his jeans. Brett pressed himself tightly up against him and slowly ground against him.

"Hey, asshole, he said stop," Kenny felt Brett being pulled off of him and he blinked back the haze of momentary lust.

"And who're you to stop me?" Brett asked. Kenny looked up from the ground and saw a boy about his height with his hand on the collar of Brett's shirt.

"I'm his fucking brother, tool," Stan Marsh barked lowly. Brett raised his hands in surrender and took a step back. Stan let go of his shirt yet stood his ground; his jaw was clenched tight and his eyes glowed furiously.

"If you care so much then you'd know this is his job," Brett snapped and hurried off in the night. As soon as he left three pairs of eyes turned to him. He felt like running.

"Kenny?" Kyle asked quietly, in mild shock. Kenny quickly zipped his hoodie and pocketed his hands. "What the hell?"

"I-I thought you said you were w-working," Butters stammered, cheeks slightly pink as his eyes settled on on his best friend who looked much different than usual. Kenny remained silent and rubbed at the eye makeup, causing the liner and shadow to smear and smudge.

"He is," Stan answered for him. "Come on, Kenny. I'm parked a few blocks away," he didn't budge yet Kyle grabbed his sweatshirt and dragged him along with them. The four were silent as they walked to Stan's "new" car, which was actually Shelly's old car. The only sounds were their feet scuffing on the asphalt and the occasional gasp and quiet sob from Butters.

Kenny reached for him but he jerked away and walked ahead, next to Stan.

Kyle claimed shotgun and Kenny slid into the backseat next to Butters. The blonde didn't look his way, yet Kenny saw his shoulders shake.

"Lee?" He whispered, but Butters shook his head and looked out the window.

"Dude!" Stan shouted as he slammed his fists on the steering wheel and turned to face Kenny. "What the fuck are you thinking?!"

"I…" Kenny trailed off, lowering his eyes. How could he tell them he was doing the job Karen was supposed to be doing? How could he say this was out of the goodness of his heart? That if he didn't earn a nightly quota his dad would beat the living hell out of him? They wouldn't understand.

"Stan, calm down," Kyle murmured almost lovingly. Well, it was lovingly to Kenny. If it were any other moment he'd make a comment about it and secretly cheer at their awkward blushes and eye contact.

"Calm down?! Kyle, he's selling his body. He's a hooker!"

That was a slap in the face. Kenny threw his head back and burst into laughter. He had to laugh so he wouldn't cry. He sounded so broken, so defeated, but it's all he could do. He couldn't lose his shit in front of his friends. He couldn't break down and tell them everything.

"Ken, why would you do this?" Butters finally asked as he wiped his bloodshot eyes. Kenny felt his throat tighten, his eyes sting. Butters deserved to know this wasn't his willing choice.

"I… did it for Karen," he murmured in hopes that they wouldn't understand him. Half the time they did.

"What?!" Three voices cried. Kyle's eyes narrowed on him and Butters reached for his hand. Kenny gladly took it and bit back a smile as he felt the smaller boy squeeze gently.

"You have the job at the convenience store, you're earning enough to take care of-!"

"No, listen!" Kenny shouted, and sat on his fists. "Just… promise not to do anything." Butters was the first to nod, Stan sighed in defeat, and Kyle just looked at him. "Eight months ago was Karen's birthday. I woke up to my mom and dad fighting, which is normal…" he trailed off and felt Butter's hand squeeze tighter. "Stuart was saying it was… it was the right time for her to be the most appealing to guys and they'd pay a lot to be with her…."

"Oh God." Kyle gasped.

"So I said I'd do it. 'Cause Karen hardly even knows what sex is, y'know? She still plays with her doll. But mom didn't want me to spend my whole weekend busting my balls. So she called a friend who knows a guy at the strip joint. So, correction, Stan, I'm a stripper and a whore."

Silence filled the car, except for Butters' quiet sobs. Kenny pulled his gangly knees to his chest and looked out the window.

"You have to stop this, Kenny," Kyle finally said, "my dad, he can-"

"No!" Kenny cried, suddenly alive with emotions. "No one can know, this is…"

"But you're going to stop, right?" Butters asked weepily as he wiped his eyes once more. Kenny sighed, then nodded. "Why would… why would your p-parents agree to that?"

"They like 500 extra dollars a week I guess."

"So they subject you to that? That's fucking shit, dude!" Stan cried, "look, I "get" why you would. But I don't get it at all. Why couldn't you just say no?" Kenny just sighed heavily.

Because his dad would kill him. Though he'd come back the next morning. He just couldn't take the beatings anymore.

"So, why was that guy bothering you?" Kenny remained silent. His eyes were going to burn holes into the interior of the car if he stared long enough, he was sure of it.

"Because if I get money, I get money. I work with him," he replied in perfect monotone.

"Wait, you've had sex with guys?" Kyle blurted suddenly.

Kenny couldn't help but laugh. That was Kyle's question?

"Why...?" He asked in a slow deadpan.

"Well how could you if you're straight?"

As he was sitting in the car with a closeted bisexual, and two closeted gays, Kenny was sure now that they were all thinking it. It was amusing to him; after the three came out to him, they just assumed. He still couldn't get over the fact that they were all reeling on this; they were probably going to ask him questions when alone. After all, none of them knew the others' true feelings. And the fact that Stan and Kyle were both practically in love with each other and were oblivious to their love being requited made Kenny want to just slam their faces together. And then he couldn't help but wonder, as he looked at Butters waiting for him to speak, did his own best friend like someone as well? He seemed really fond of Tweek. Kenny shook this thought out of his head.

"'Cause I'm not?"

All of their eyes widened as they stared at him. The three had spoken to him in confidence, and told them their feelings. And he had remained silent. But out of all of them, he was the only one who could outright admit his sexual orientation in front of them all.

"Wait, what?" Kyle asked, eyes scorning him as the same thought Kenny had flickered through his mind.

"I'm not straight, I never said so."

Stan's eyes burned with realization; he remembered Kenny describing Kyle so vividly. Butters just stared at him, tears brimming in his eyes once again; why hadn't he said anything to him?

"B-but…"

"It's not important. I'd totally be out and proud if my dad didn't live here. I just never thought it was important."

"Dude, you're gay. How is that not important to us?!" Stan cried, Kenny shook his head.

"I'm not gay, Stan, I don't know what I am. I can't really say bi… I guess queer. I just don't really care. If there's some orientation about not giving a shit who you fuck then that's what I am," he answered simply.

"That's pansexual," Kyle piped up, then blushed as Stan looked at him curiously, "I heard, I think. Because Bebe likes looking up the LGBTQ issues and stuff and we worked on a paper about it." Kenny nodded and smirked at Kyle, who slinked back in his seat.

"Then guys, I'm pansexual."

Butter's jaw dropped and he stared with wide eyes at their hands. His cheeks heated.

"T-this doesn't change the fact that y-you never told me, Ken. A-about anything. You've been distant, y-you hardly talk to me, even in s-school. I thought I did something wrong. I thought you h-hated me. You could have told m-me about your family and your… jobs… a-and you could have told me that you were queer. I wouldn't have cared. You're still my best friend and it would… it's something you share with your best friend."

Kenny nodded, and looked into Butters' eyes. He saw his pain and his stomach twisted at the thought of being the cause. Just like the scar that went over his left eye, and the rejection he felt after his longest death when no one would accept him because they couldn't get over losing Kenny.

"I'm sorry," Kenny whispered and turned his head. Yet he was watching Stan and Kyle out of the corner of his eye. Both were looking at each other and Kyle was red in the face. They both turned away without a word said.

"So, Kenny, you're gonna stop this, okay? Even if you have to lie to your dad about where you're going and what you're doing. You can't do this to yourself; we're gonna help you. That's what brothers do," Stan told him and Kyle nodded.

"Just… just let us help you," Kyle added softly.

Kenny nodded. His stomach dropped and his heart felt heavy; he was too far gone. They couldn't help him now. He'd stop the whoring and the stripping maybe… but they couldn't stop Stuart McCormick

Stan started the car and drove down Broadway Street. Kenny looked at Butters who was playing with his hands and the blonde nudged the now shorter boy. Butters tilted his head and Kenny sighed softly.

"I'm sorry, Leo," he mouthed, Butters blushed and shrugged his shoulders. Kenny took his hand and squeezed affectionately, like a friend, with emphasis to his words. "I mean it. Thank you," He repeated.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Butters asked in a whisper. Thankfully Stan had turned up the music so the two in the front couldn't hear. "After I told you, I thought…"

"It was your story to tell, you didn't need to hear mine too."

Butters huffed but said no more. The silence between the two eventually made Kenny fall asleep; it had been a long night for him and he had been shocked by the sudden appearance of his friends. Butters looked at him dismally and squeezed his hand before he too drifted off to sleep.

Kyle glanced back as they drove down US-285 in the night. He noted, with furrowed eyebrows, that Butters was using Kenny's shoulder as a pillow. He smiled at that. Then he noticed their hands were overlapped, and for a moment a thought crossed his mind. Could Butters be gay…? That didn't seem far-fetched at all. In fact, it made sense. That would be something he'd need to talk to him about.

"I can't believe it," Stan said quietly, turning down the music. Kyle could hear Butters' deep breathing and Kenny mumble something. "How could his parents make him do that?"

"We can't understand it, we don't… we have no clue what's been happening in that house." Kyle reaffirmed. "And it's disgusting what Kenny had to do… but can you imagine his little sister doing the same thing? She'd be kidnapped. She could be dead by now."

Stan sighed and nodded. That made sense; Kenny could defend himself. And what he did was pretty fucking noble in a morbid way.

"Would you have ever guessed he wasn't straight?" Kyle asked suddenly, Stan shrugged.

"Well he was obsessed with tits and pussy since he was in kindergarten. So, it's kinda shocking."

Kyle nodded and folded his hands together. Now he should say it. Butters was right; best friends should know about their orientation. But… he couldn't bear to tell Stan. He was the captain of the middle school football team; he'd hate Kyle forever. He couldn't bear that.

"Are they holding hands?" Stan asked suddenly, Kyle nodded, "they have to date, I swear to fucking God." Kyle burst out laughing at that. "What?"

"Butters and Kenny dating? Is Butters… that way?" Stan gave him a look of "are you kidding" and rolled his eyes. He did have a point.

"The only reason why I never said anything was because I thought Kenny was straight. But he's fucking not. They're two seconds away from boning each other." Stan said, "you've seen the looks Butters gives him. He's like… in love with Kenny. And Kenny's way too overprotective to be his best friend."

"You know, people could say the same about us." Kyle piped up, causing Stan to look at him with his jaw down and nearly hit the car in front of him. He swerved to the left lane and passed the driver who was probably having a heart attack. So what if he was fourteen; he was still a better driver than most of these assholes.

"I doubt it," Stan grumbled, Kyle rolled his eyes. "Why, do you think that?" he asked, gentler. Kyle shrugged his shoulders, then shook his head.

"No, no, but I'm sure other people do." Kyle mumbled, looking out the window. Suddenly he felt tense and wanted to drop this conversation completely. Stan's knuckles were white as he squeezed the steering wheel.

"Well, people can think what they want," Stan snapped, and pushed his foot against the gas. He just wanted to get home and forget about this conversation.

"Hey, Stan?" Kyle asked quietly after a few minutes had passed. The black haired boys' heart leaped and he glanced at his red headed friend momentarily.

"Yeah?"

"I think you're right about Kenny and Butters." He finally mumbled, looking back. They looked too comfortable to be platonic. He just had to push away the same feelings he had about him and Stan. It was never going to happen; he just hoped Kenny and Butters would have a chance.