A/N: So, in H.P. Lovecraft's story "The Shadow Over Innsmouth" human/old god hybrids start out looking human but gain more inhuman features as they get older. Since we know that Kenny has some sort of connection to Cthulhu and he's still a child I thought "What if…?" And the idea did not leave me alone so I had to write it down.
Kenny McCormick had never been a normal kid. He knew that. For one thing, he lived in South Park, where anything and everything could happen. And he and his friends were usually at the center of it all. Why they got dragged into all that crazy shit he didn't know, but it happened. Not to mention his whole "death curse" thing. But he thought he was at least human. Until now.
The whole thing started innocently enough, with a persistent nagging itch on his upper lip. He thought maybe he was finally growing a mustache. His friends all had gotten facial hair and had to shave regularly, so it was about time. They didn't say anything about it being this itchy though. He had been scratching it so much that he started to draw blood, and his friends had asked him about it a few times in a slightly concerned tone. Ok, so the itchiness wasn't normal, but it probably wasn't a big deal. Maybe it was rubbing against his parka hood weirdly or something. Yeah, that made sense. He'd have to loosen the hood a little tomorrow.
Things got a little stranger the next day, the itchiness was still there, but when he went to scratch it his skin felt wrong. Like, rubbery almost? He checked in the mirror, everything seemed fine, except maybe he was a little paler than normal? God, he hoped he wasn't coming down with another disease that would eventually kill him. Dying from disease was the worst! It was so goddamn slow! Well, he couldn't afford to go to the doctor so he just had to wait until this went away or it ended up killing him. Whichever came first. Still, he didn't want to spread anything to the other guys so he kept his distance.
It went on like that for a few days. Itchy upper lip, different skin texture, his eyes were also a bit more sunken in and there were a few bumps along his upper lip now, a rash maybe? By now his friends had noticed he wasn't looking too great. He just told them that he was feeling a bit under the weather and they accepted that. Luckily he got hit by a semi truck that day so whatever ailment he had should go away after that. That was one small perk of his curse, whenever he came back, he came back perfect. No lingering injuries or illness. So imagine his surprise when he looked in the mirror to find that his condition hadn't gone away, in fact, it had gotten worse. His skin was colder and more clammy, his fingers felt stiff, for some reason? And the bumps on his upper lip had gotten much bigger. Ok, this clearly wasn't just a simple illness, something was seriously wrong. But what? What could be causing this? What even the hell was happening?! Unfortunately those questions would have to wait, as Kenny was running late for school. He swore under his breath as he put his hood up and tightened it as tight as it could. No way was he letting anyone get so much as a glimpse at what was happening until he could figure out just what exactly was happening.
The more days passed the worse things got. The bumps on his upper lip grew longer and longer until Kenny finally realized what they were. They were tentacles. Mother. Fucking. Tentacles. Cthulhu and the rest of the fucking elder gods had to have something to do with this. They had to. First the immortality curse and now this? What was next? Was he going to grow gills too? God, he fucking hated those tentacles with a burning passion. He could feel them wiggling in a gross, demented, inhuman way. Especially when he tried to stuff them under his parka hood. They kept squirming, like they wanted to be let out. He really hoped no one noticed the movement under his hood. Luckily he had always hidden his face before this so no one suspected that he was hiding something. All he had to do was never take his parka off, ever…that was possible, right? But deep down he knew that no, no it wasn't. What would he do when it was summer? He would literally die of heat stroke if he tried wearing it then. Everyone knew how attached he was to his parka but it would probably still raise a few eyebrows if he never took it off. There had to be another way. His eyes trailed over towards the knives in the kitchen. Hmm. That could work. Sure it would hurt like a bitch but he's been through worse from literally dying, he could handle it. He'd just cut off the offending tentacles, they'd scab over, eventually heal and it would be like it never happened! Sure, he'd still have the cold, clammy skin, the sunken eyes, and the strange webbing between his fingers that he'd discovered recently, but none of that was as obviously inhuman as the tentacles. Besides, that was what makeup was for, right? To hide weird skin stuff? The guys could make fun of him for wearing it all they wanted, he didn't care. Better than being an inhuman freak. Before he could talk himself out of it he grabbed the sharpest knife he could find and headed towards the bathroom. He needed the mirror to see what he was doing.
Kenny brought the knife up to his face and hesitated for a second before making the first cut. Was he really going to do this? The tentacle in his hand started squirming, as if it was aware of its fate. Oh yeah, he was definitely doing this. He couldn't stand having this disgusting, squirming thing attached to him for another second. He made the cut. It was quick, luckily tentacles didn't have bones he had to saw through, but, as expected, it was painful. Kenny shoved a towel in his mouth and bit down on it, hard, to keep from screaming. He didn't want to wake the whole household. He especially didn't want his little sister to see him doing this. The tentacle fell to the floor, bleeding profusely. Well, that was a lot more blood than he was expecting. He applied pressure to the wound on his face to stop the bleeding. Thanks to his constant bouts with death he knew quite a bit about how to treat wounds. He repeated the process with each tentacle, wrapped gauze around his upper lip, and zipped his parka hood back up. That was much better. He looked and felt more like himself again. Sure, his wounds would hurt for a bit but that was fine. He'd deal. The bathroom was a bloody mess though. He cleaned it up the best he could, tossed the blood soaked rags away and he chucked the disembodied tentacles outside for the rats to get. They seemed to really enjoy feasting on his flesh, might as well give them a free meal.
"Well, you seem cheery today." Kyle said when Kenny arrived at the bus stop.
"Yeah, I'm feeling better today." Kenny said simply.
"Well, good. We were starting to worry about you dude. You're never sick for that long." Stan said. He then noticed something on Kenny's parka. And gave a confused and concerned look. "Dude, is that blood?" He asked, pointing towards where he saw it. Kenny's eyes widened. Shit. Either he got some blood on it when he was in the bathroom or it seeped through the gauze. He needed to think of a good excuse. Luckily he was good at that. He often had to give one to his friends when they asked him questions he couldn't answer, like "where did you go last night?" Obviously he couldn't say that he got struck by lightning, or burned in a fire, or any of the other crazy ways he got killed. So he had to make something up. Or distract them with a dirty joke, that usually worked too.
"Oh, yeah. Clumsy me, I cut myself shaving." That just made Stan and Kyle look more confused.
"You don't have anything to shave." Kyle pointed out.
"I do now." Kenny replied. "Puberty came on pretty fast." That was certainly an understatement. Stan and Kyle shrugged. They hadn't seen him with his hood down for a while, he certainly could've grown facial hair in that time.
"Cool. Can I see?" Kyle asked.
"Why? I already said that I shaved it off." Kenny pointed out. "I just have a cut, you don't want to see that."
"I do actually." Stan said. "If it's bleeding through your parka it must be pretty bad." He walked towards Kenny, but Kenny backed away and pulled the strings on his hood to tighten it further.
"I'm fine Stan." Kenny insisted. Stan opened his mouth to say something but he was interrupted when the bus showed up. That seemed to have taken him off the topic, as he didn't mention it again. But he did give him a concerned look as they walked onto the bus. He didn't mention it to Kenny, but Stan was starting to get really worried. Sure, Kenny said he was fine, but he clearly wasn't. He'd been sick for weeks and now he shows up with blood on his coat? Something wasn't right here. But Stan wasn't sure what.
Kenny, meanwhile, was riding high all day. He'd finally figured out a way to stop those pesky tentacles for good! Sure, his upper lip hurt, quite a bit actually. He wasn't used to sustained pain. Normally when something hurt him, he died from it. Little things like cuts didn't register to him anymore since he was used to the agonizing pain of death, anything less than that was just a dull ache, easily ignorable. This registered though, which freaked him out a bit. He'd thought about killing himself to escape the pain but he didn't really feel like dying today. Despite the pain, Kenny went to bed feeling satisfied. His plan worked perfectly. Eventually it would stop hurting, scab over, heal, and he could go back to (relatively) normal. What could go wrong?
Well, that question was answered when he woke up the next day. His nose twitched, feeling a bit itchy. He went to scratch it when his hand brushed up against something on his upper lip. His heart stopped. No. No! He looked down to confirm that he wasn't just losing his mind, and saw the mass of tentacles, chilling there like nothing ever happened to them. No no no no! They grew back?! How?! Why?! Kenny ran towards the kitchen in a panic, grabbed the knife, and raced to the bathroom. He had stopped thinking logically at this point. He didn't think about how painful it would be to do this every day. He didn't think about how having a bloody upper lip every day would cause people to be concerned, and would be just as hard to hide as the tentacles. He didn't think about how he could easily cause another death by doing this. The only thing he was thinking was "get it off! get it off! get it off!" He grabbed the knife and started hacking the tentacles away, much less carefully this time around. Blood poured from his face but he barely even noticed, he had to get those goddamn tentacles off of him. By the end it looked like he had slaughtered an octopus, but he didn't much care. He repeated the cleanup routine from yesterday. Wash off the blood, toss the rags, throw the tentacles to the rats. He zipped up his parka and walked towards the bus stop, even though he really didn't want to.
When Stan saw Kenny at the bus stop that day his worry increased tenfold. None of the light that was usually in Kenny's eyes was there today. His good mood from yesterday had vanished, he looked utterly defeated. But that wasn't the only thing that gave his friends pause. He was even paler than before, he had more blood on his coat, and he was stumbling as he was walking over. Ok, that does it, Stan thought, I have to say something.
"Kenny? You ok? You look like…."
"Like shit." Kyle supplied.
"I was trying to find a nicer way to say it, but yeah. You look like shit."
"Thanks guys, that's just what I wanted to hear today." Kenny quipped.
"Well, we're worried about you dude!" Stan shouted. "This isn't some run of the mill illness, is it? Something's really wrong with you." Kenny neither confirmed nor denied this and just looked at the ground. He didn't know what to say. He was slipping, he knew he was slipping, so much so that even his friends, who didn't question his disappearances, didn't question his "miraculous recoveries", didn't question all the strange things he said, had noticed. He didn't know how to reassure them, because how could he? Stan was right, something was really wrong. But he couldn't let them know that. "What's going on Kenny? What's wrong? Just tell me!" Stan pleaded.
"Nothing's wrong! I'm totally fine!" Kenny protested ineffectively. He knew Stan and Kyle weren't going to buy that, but he still said it. Stan gave him a disbelieving look.
"We all know that's not true." He told him. "Come on dude, you can tell us. We're your friends, we want to help!"
"Just leave me alone Stan! Let me deal with it on my own just like you always do!" Kenny shouted. He probably shouldn't have said that. He wasn't being fair, he knew he wasn't being fair. Stan couldn't remember any of what he was talking about. Besides, he couldn't exactly blame him for not taking the death of a friend well. Kenny didn't know what he would do if the shoe was on the other foot and it was one of his friends who was dying. The idea of losing one or both of these guys tied his stomach in knots, unlike him, they couldn't come back. But god dammit he was upset, he was pissed, his life had just gone to shit and he didn't really feel like being fair at the moment. He couldn't go yell at Cthulhu again, so Stan Marsh was the unlucky target that just so happened to be in his way. A look of hurt flashed on Stan's face. Did Kenny really think that? He acted like he had let him down in some way, but when?
"What the hell are you talking about?" Stan asked.
"Nothing. Just forget about it. You're really good at that. You both are." Ok, now he was really being unfair. The curse affected everyone the same way, it wasn't their fault that they couldn't remember. But he had already crossed that line, might as well see how far he could go. Stan and Kyle gave each other a confused look. Neither of them had any clue what Kenny was talking about, but clearly they had missed something. Stan grabbed onto Kenny's arm and said,
"No, I'm not gonna forget about it! You need help Kenny! Just let me help you!"
"Let go of me!" Kenny shouted, yanking his arm out of Stan's grip, surprising Stan. Kenny normally wasn't very strong, it came from not eating enough. Where did he get this sudden burst of strength? "You know what? I can't do this today. I'm done. I'm just done. See you tomorrow."
"Hold on, I'm not just gonna let you walk away!" Stan told him.
"Who said anything about walking?" Kenny said right before whipping out his pistol and shooting himself in the head, much to the shock of Stan and Kyle. Did he really just do that?! Did he really just kill himself?! Had things gotten that bad?
"Kenny!" "Kenny, no!" The boys shouted as they ran up to their dead friend's body, but it was too late, he was gone.
Kenny woke up the next day feeling remorseful. Some time in the afterlife gave him a chance to calm down and realize just how much he had overreacted up there. Great, just great. Not only was he turning into a living freakshow, he had just blown it with his friends. He knew that he should apologize to Stan, and probably Kyle too, but he knew if he did that they would continue to try to help him. Kenny wasn't sure what to do. Should he let them help? He could probably use it. He hated to admit it to himself but he was freaking the fuck out about what the hell was happening to him. Plus, maybe they'd finally believe him about the whole death curse thing. They would at the very least have to admit that something strange was going on with him. Or they would freak out and never talk to him again. His immortality alone was already deemed "too strange even for South Park" based on the fact that nobody believed it. Whatever the hell this was might be too much even for them. He couldn't lose his friends, they were one of the few good things he had in his life. They were one of the few things keeping him from going down a rabbit hole of trying to die permanently. If he lost that he would become even more of a mental case then he was right now. So, somehow he had to get his friends back, while also convincing them to leave him alone at the same time? How the hell was he supposed to pull that off?
He felt another twitch on his upper lip. Cool, the tentacles were back. He'd spent all that time hacking them off yesterday for nothing. He thought about just leaving them be today, stuffing them in his parka like before. But he still felt revolted when he looked at them, when he touched them, when they touched something else and he could feel it, reminding him that they were, in fact, a part of him now. He wanted them gone. Besides, Stan and Kyle were scrutinizing him more thoroughly now. They would notice if something under his parka was moving. He got out the knife and headed towards the bathroom, more resigned than anything else this time around.
Meanwhile, at the bus stop, Stan was also grappling with what to do. It was obvious he came on too strong when attempting to help. He just freaked Kenny out until he ran away. Kenny hated being pitied or looked at like a charity case, he should've remembered that. He still thought that Kenny needed help but he didn't know how to get him to accept it.
"Kenny's not here today." He said.
"Yup" Kyle replied. "Think he's avoiding us?"
"Probably." Stan said. "But it could be something else too. I'm really worried about him Kyle. I feel like I should go check on him." Kyle grimaced.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" He asked. "Kenny did ask to be left alone, maybe we should honor that. He'll talk to us if and when he's ready." Stan thought it through. Kyle did have a point, he did ask to be left alone. A good friend would respect his wishes. But he wasn't sure if he was being a good friend lately. Kenny had said that he always let him deal with things on his own, like he wasn't there for him. Maybe he wasn't. He knew Kenny had troubles, with his family it was impossible for him not to, maybe there was something he missed. Something Kenny was going through that he didn't notice. So now that he had noticed that something was up, what kind of friend would he be if he left him alone again?
"But he said that I was never there for him when he needed me. I don't want to prove him right." Stan eventually said. "Besides, what if something really bad is going on? And we didn't stop it?"
"What do you think is going on with him?" Kyle asked.
"I don't know man, it's Kenny. It could be any number of things." Stan said, though he did have his suspicions. Cold, clammy skin, dodging questions, and mysterious blood stains around his face? He was probably getting into some kind of drug. Sure, he drank and smoked weed, they all did, but he must be getting into something harder. He knew that Kenny had an addictive personality, just like he did. They talked about it sometimes, how they both fear that they're gonna end up like their dads. And when someone you love gets into that kinda stuff you don't just wait for them to come to you for help, you drag them to an intervention. Whether they like it or not. And Kenny didn't have much of a support system. He had him, Kyle, Butters, and his little sister, that was it. If he didn't try to help Kenny, who would? If Kenny really thought that he hadn't been there for him in the past, well, he wasn't about to make that same mistake again.
"I'm going. Don't wait up for me." Stan said as he started walking towards Kenny's house. Kyle still wasn't sure it was a good idea, but he knew he wasn't going to be able to talk Stan out of it.
"Fine. Text me if anything happens, alright?" Stan nodded as he kept walking. Kyle hoped that he knew what he was doing.
Stan kept walking until he eventually came across Kenny's dilapidated old house. He didn't go here often. Kenny didn't like staying at his own place so he took every opportunity he could to go hang at one of their houses. Well, except for the times he just disappeared with no explanation. Stan tried to ask Kenny about where he went during those times, but all he got were vague answers. He always thought that it was none of his business so he didn't pry further. Maybe he should've pushed him harder about that. Maybe that was why Kenny felt left alone.
Stan knocked on the door but got no response. He tried the door handle and found that the door was unlocked. He hesitantly went inside, they probably wouldn't mind, they left the door unlocked for a reason, right? "Hello?" he said, "Kenny? Mr. and Mrs. McCormick? Karen? Kevin?" Hmm, maybe no one was home? He turned to leave when he heard shouting coming from the bathroom door. He paused, that sounded like Kenny. He went up to the bathroom door to hear it better. Stan heard a string of expletives coming from the bathroom door, all in Kenny's voice. That in itself was not unusual, Kenny might have had the foulest mouth in all of South Park, and that was saying something. (It was much clearer than normal though, he must have his hood down.) What was unusual was his tone. He was hissing the words out like he was in pain. Kenny had a crazy high pain tolerance, so much so that it was almost freaky. He'd get papercuts, splinters, scrapes, and never even notice them. One time he had a cut across his entire upper arm and he didn't even notice that despite the fact that it was dripping blood all over the place. The few times he'd heard Kenny express pain he'd basically been on death's door. (which happened too many times for Stan's comfort.) This got Stan worrying, was he on death's door right now? What the fuck was going on in there? "Kenny?" Stan said, concerned, as he knocked on the door.
"Stan?!" Kenny answered. Shit! he thought. What was Stan doing here?! He glanced at the clock and realized that he was running late for school. That happened sometimes. He couldn't exactly control when he woke up from death. Stan must've come by to check on him. Curse that caring bastard! He had to get him out of here! Now! But before he could think of anything Stan heard a squelching sound on the bottom of his boots. He looked down and his face went white. Blood was pooling out of the bathroom door. There was so much blood, there was way too much blood. Screw it, he was going in there. He had to make sure Kenny was ok. If he saw something private, well, who cared? It's not like he'd never seen another guy's dick before. Kenny would get over it. "I'm coming in!" Stan shouted as a warning. Kenny's eyes went wide.
"No, don't!" he shouted, but it was too late, Stan had already opened the door. He saw Kenny and froze in his tracks. Whatever he was expecting to see behind that door, it certainly wasn't this. Kenny was surrounded by a pool of blood. A knife was held up to his face pressing on… was that a tentacle? It was, it looked like a tentacle the same color as Kenny's flesh. It looked like half of his face was covered with them, while the other half had blood flowing from wounds on his upper lip. Disembodied tentacles were on the floor, also leaking blood. Stan didn't know what made him feel more nauseous, the bleeding tentacles on the floor, or seeing one of his best friends hold a knife to his face with the intention to cut. Kenny was frozen, he couldn't move, he couldn't think of anything to say. He just stood there, knife on his face, wearing an expression of pure panic. He'd been caught. Cornered. Exposed. Suddenly he felt woozy. Ah, he knew this feeling well. Blood loss. He was probably going to die again. Ah well, the day was already shot, might as well. He let the woozy feeling take him and he keeled over. The last thing he heard was Stan shouting his name in a panic before he blacked out.