Warning: Rated M for language, gore, sexual scenes, and disturbing scenes. Also for OOC creepy Cartman and (probably) OOC exhibitionist Kyle.

This story will be told in a 1st person perspective.

(Kyle's POV)

It's 4:36 am.

All I want to do is sleep, but my eyes are glued to the ceiling above me. Stan wasn't home yet from his late-night party, but somehow I can't find it in me right now to care. I had my reservations about letting him go since he always tends to drink himself drunk until incompetancy. But he resisted against me like always and there was nothing I could do except let him go and let him make a fool out of himself, like always.

I sigh and roll over onto my side, getting out of bed to journal my thoughts. My therapist had always told me that every time I wasn't able to sleep, I should just get out of bed and write my thoughts down on paper. So I did what I had to do and turned on my desk lamp, emitting a warm glow on my desk before me. I guess, let's write.

—

Dear Diary,

Stan is a fucking asshole. The end.

—

No, that couldn't possibly be it. I put my mechanical pencil up to my lips and stared out the window, seeing the blackened town stare back at me. The thought of someone staring back at me sent chills down my spine so I slid the curtains closed and sat back down. It was like this until the morning- just me writing and journaling to kill time - and Stan still hadn't come back yet.

It wasn't until it was 7 am that our apartment door unlocked and I could see Stan stumbling in. By this time, I was making some waffles and eggs for breakfast to get ready for work. I tried not to notice him, but by this point, my hands were shaking as I was setting out the plates.

"Hey babe," Stan said nonchalantly from the doorway, as he took off his shoes sloppily and hung his coat on the coat rack near the door. "What's for brekkie?"

I bit my lip in response, taking my spatula and flipping the sunny side egg over aggressively. It popped open, causing the yellow egg yolk to splatter across the frying pan much like modern-day contemporary art. I sighed, pissed off that my perfect sunny side-up egg had met its demise. "Are you not even going to mention to me that you were out all night last night?"

I was tapping my foot anxiously, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn't even want to look at him.

"Oh God, Kyle, are we going to start with this again?" I could almost hear Stan putting a hand up to his forehead to block me out. I turned to shoot an icy glare in his direction, but he was already heading towards the bedroom. "Ugh, I'm gonna go to bed. Next time, if you wanna join the party just let me know so you're not all jealous and shit like this."

"I–" Slam. Oh my God. He just shut the bedroom door on me. I didn't even get a word in. I faced back towards my sunny-side-up egg, which was now starting to darken and brown at the edges. "Ugh….nothing is going right."

I decided to call it a morning and head to work, which was going to be another long one. I worked as a 1st-grade teacher at an elementary school, teaching kids the importance of education! Yay. My favorite part of going to work was being away from Stan since the kids made me forget about how shitty he's been treating me.

"Mr. Broflovski, I made you something!" One of my students ran up to me right before I was taking off for lunch break, making me stop completely in my tracks. I turned around to see it was sweet ol' Aria, who made me a card that read: to Mr. Broflovski. I squatted down to her level to take the card from her and smiled warmly. "Shhh! Don't open it until later! It's a secret!"

"Thank you so much, Aria! I'm going to take a look at it later." She smiled a big toothy grin at me and ran away back to her group of friends, spinning around all the while. I got up again and tucked the card into my briefcase, smiling fondly. Kids are so innocent and pure, they get to enjoy life without all of the negative stuff.

I sighed and turned on my heel, making my way towards the parking lot. Today, I was having lunch with Kenny and Butters to catch up.

—

Today's lunch: burritos. It was one of my favorite foods to eat (and it was at one of the places I took Stan when we first started dating). Now, I was trying to override that memory by taking other people I knew here. It was like that with all of the places we went to before. I just wanted to replace them with a memory that didn't have Stan in it. That was how it was recently.

"W-wow Kyle, I'm sorry to hear that. Stan is such a douchebag!" Butters rubbed his knuckles together before squirting Cholula onto his saucy burrito.

"Damn babe, that sounded like you last night," Kenny thought aloud, biting into his big bean burrito. My eye twitched, stabbing into my burrito with a knife to fiercely cut it in half. Kenny nonchalantly grabbed his balls and made a pained noise with his other hand. "And damn Stan really needs to watch out for a second circumcision."

At that comment, I snidely chuckled. "Thanks, guys, I really appreciate the support."

"Well Kyle, I just think that…if things aren't working out between you two, then…then…have you thought of breaking up?" Butters hesitantly asked. Sweet, sweet Butters.

I sighed into my burrito, then put it into my mouth. "Right now, I'm just trying to find a reason to break up with him. Lately, he's been coming home later and later from his parties until now, he just doesn't give a shit what time he comes home at all," Butters and Kenny then shot each other a warning glance, looking worried. "Wh-what? Why are you guys making that face?"

Kenny then looked and Butters and they both nodded before he leaned forward towards me. "Kyle, what if I gave you a reason to break up with Stan and find some better-looking guys? Stan's ass is cute but he needs a spanking."

Butters giggled in his seat but I wasn't catching on. "What do you mean reason?"

"Here babes, let me show you what Stan's been up to. I know you don't usually keep up with social media and stuff, but you gotta see this." Kenny then pulled out his phone and went onto Instagram, pulling out my boyfriend's profile page.

I really wasn't surprised. On his Instagram page (which he said he wasn't too active on), was a bunch of videos of him drinking and dancing drunkenly on top of bar tables. If my hair wasn't already red enough, then my face was too.

"I…I don't want to see anymore, Kenny." I looked at my smashed and broken-up burrito, wishing so badly that it was Stan's face right now.

"Kyle, I know you don't want to see Stan's reality on Instagram, but…I think it's time to move on. Stan's my buddy too, but even I know he's doing some ridiculous shit and not treating you with respect," Kenny and Butters both nodded at each other, sharing the same sentiment. "We're just trying to look out for you buddy. And shit, if I were you, I would have left his ass a loooong time ago. For Butters, my smoochums!"

Kenny pinched Butters' cheek and sent him flying kisses from next to him. I rolled my eyes, not feeling too particularly hungry right now. What I really wished was that we could be just like the lovebirds right in front of me. But that would never happen, would it?

—

I went back to work that day, feeling cranky but having to put on a facade for the kids and my coworkers. As I was driving back home, I realized how thirsty I was and tried to reach for my water bottle - knocking over my briefcase in the same motion. I cursed silently as the contents spilled out in the bottom of my car. Then, I remembered the note that my student gave me and gave myself a mental reminder to look at it when I parked.

Mr. Broflovski, we love you so much. You are the best teacher ever. Keep smiling and teaching us! D'aww. My students always write the cutest things. I smiled as I tucked the note back into my briefcase and unlocked the door to Stan and I's apartment.

Wait. The door is unlocked? Something didn't feel quite right. I closed the door behind me, expecting complete silence. But as I approached the hallway, I started hearing the bed squeaking. Whispers and moaning were coming from Stan and I's bedroom. My stomach sank as I put my hand to my mouth. I felt my cheeks get hot, and my vision was blurry. It felt like my hair was on fire.

The bed rustling became louder and louder in the next few seconds until I heard the two voices sigh in ecstasy as they finished their movements. It was Stan's voice and a familiar woman's voice from high school. Wendy Testaburger.

I had half a heart to just throw my briefcase right at them and ask them to get out of my fucking apartment. I paid most of the rent for this place if not all. Stan was fucking jobless and I had to carry his drunk ass around and take care of him like he was a big fucking man, baby. I didn't even know what to do. I didn't even know what to say if I faced them.

"Stan…I think it's time I should get going. Kyle might be back soon." My ears perked up at the sound of Wendy's soft voice. I felt something collect at the back of my throat, but I quickly swallowed it down. Tightening the grip on my briefcase, I exited the same way back I entered through.

If this was how Stan was going to be, a lying, cheating, man-baby of a bastard, then so be it. He can fuck right off. And I, am going to get myself drunk as fuck.

—

"So I said fuck it, and now I'm here!" I slammed a cup of Jack Daniels down on the counter, my head whizzing around.

"Yeah? And whatcha gonna do about it babe?" The face right next to me was grinning from ear to ear, leaning onto their hand. I couldn't see or make out their face because I was shit-faced drunk. But I could tell they were interested in me and to be fair, they sort of…looked attractive. They then leaned in close to my ear and whispered something that made me hot in my seat. "Wanna come back to my place and fuck each other's brains out?" Fuck it, if Stan cheated on me, then who's stopping me from doing the same?

"Yeah, let's–" All of a sudden, the face in front of me went zooming past my vision to the left at almost 100 miles per hour. What the fuck?

There was a wave of ooh's and aah's as I heard a scuffle from in front of me. I'm not sure what was happening, but I'm pretty sure the person I was talking to was being beaten the shit out of. Then, someone tugged me by the arm and I was being forcefully taken out of the bar. I didn't like where this was going.

"Where….where the fuck are you taking me?! Let me fucking go!" I tried to swipe my arm back for control, but this unknown person's grip was way too strong. I stumbled back, my legs making zig zags as I walked. Well, I stumbled.

Whoever it was, they hissed at me. Hissed. "Shut the fuck up and keep walking, asshole."

"Huh?" I was too stunned to speak. "Asshole?! You're forcing me out of a fun time and you're calling me an asshole? Fuck you!"

I was slurring at this point, but I was still following this person wherever the fuck they were going. It seemed like we were walking for miles and miles until I felt my feet stepping on uneven ground. Crunching, like the ground, turned into wood chips. Then, rattling, like chains swaying in the wind. The unknown assailant had pushed me down onto a seat that sunk when I placed my weight on it. Attached to the seats were two chains on either side.

"Damn, take me out to dinner first. This is kinky," I opened my eyes lazily to look at the chains. "Oh, it's a swing."

It was quiet for a moment, me swinging side to side on the swing. I wasn't sure where this person was standing, but I could tell that they were still there. Waiting? Watching? Whatever they were doing, they were doing it quietly. And the notion, for some reason made me super emotional.

"My boyfriend cheated on me," I randomly said out loud, not even talking to this unknown individual directly. It just felt like I was talking to the wind, for anyone to hear. Or maybe I just wanted to get it out. "I don't even know what I did wrong. I just came home today and found him fucking someone else. And it's his ex-girlfriend, for crying out loud."

The more I talked, the more I could feel myself start shaking and shuddering. I was angry and frustrated, but I couldn't stop talking. "I pay the bills, I pay the groceries, and I don't even get a fucking thank you in return! Everything I fucking do is just asshole this, asshole that. And even when I tell him that he should try to do better for him, not even for us, he starts shutting me out like I don't even matter! I…"

I hiccuped and started feeling warm liquid run down my cheeks. My face already felt hot and it was now burning, from shame. It hurt finishing my sentence. "I…I thought I meant something to you."

The other person who was listening just sighed, and I could hear their footsteps come closer to me again. For a moment, I feel hot breath against my cheek and neck, which causes me to flinch. The unknown person in front of me then grabs onto the chains of the swing to steady myself, which causes me to not fall. I couldn't make out their silhouette, but something seemed…familiar about them.

But everything was spinning way too much and I couldn't focus too well.

They then suddenly threw something hard at me and grabbed the chains of the swing, holding me in place. It seemed like they were going to do something - or hesitated in doing so before they started walking away. Their footsteps got quieter and quieter.

"H-hey! Where are you going?! Are you seriously going to leave me alone like this?!"

I wasn't sure how long I was sitting there but within moments, I could hear Kenny and Butters voices from afar.

"Kyle! Oh God, are you okay?" I heard Butters say.

"Oof, you don't look too good. Let's get you up." Kenny also has some concern in his voice. Kenny and Butters raise my arms up above their shoulders to try to hoist me up from where I was sitting.

"Stan cheated on me." I bluntly said, and there was a silence before I vomited onto someone. Then, I blacked out.

—

I woke up in an apartment. Now, it wasn't just any apartment. It wasn't my apartment, that's for sure. My head pulsed and I winced in pain at the sudden onset of pain, curling up into the fetal position.

"Woah, Kyle! You okay there buddy?" I hear Butters say from my side. I open my eyes to see Butters put his knitting needles down and turn around to call Kenny out. He was making a blanket out of grandma squares, the colors of blue, orange, and yellow.

"I…" I stuttered out before Butters hushed me.

"Now now, don't talk, Kyle. It's gonna make your head hurt a whole helluva lot worse." I smiled through the pain and rested on my side, as the two brought some water and hangover medicine. Ah, yes. Clam chowder soup.

Kenny brought it in a tiny bowl, wearing some kitchen gloves and an apron. Gosh, he looks so funny like that but it oddly suits him. He was always the caring type. And now, he and Butters are together and are the ultimate grandpa/grandpa couple.

"Rest up for now, Kyle. D'you want me to call your workplace so you can call out sick?" I nodded my head no, letting Kenny know that it was a Saturday (thank God). Butters and Kenny give each other a nod, like they were signaling each other to leave the room and give me peace.

I sat up and started to drink the clam chowder, remembering that someone had called Kenny and Butters for me. And they also somehow knew how to unlock my phone last night. Which kind of gave me the chills.

Who the hell helped me last night? I guess I should talk to Kenny and Butters when I'm feeling like it again.

—

The next few days pass like a blur. I was staying at Kenny and Butters' apartment, ignoring the hell out of Stan. He was calling and texting me to try to mend things up, but I felt so fucking done with him. I wanted to block him (which Kenny and Butters suggested), but…for some reason, I couldn't. I wanted to see him try to suffer for what he did.

That all went down the toilet when I opened the door one morning, to see Stan standing in front of me.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I clenched my briefcase in my hand tightly, and nonetheless when I need to go to work too!

"Look Kyle, can we talk? Please," Stan tried to give me the puppy dog eye look but I wasn't having it. Suffer, burn. Hell, I wanted to burn the apartment down after hearing about what he did to her while I wasn't there. "Let's talk."

Stan reached out to grab my wrist, but I slapped his hand away in horror. "Don't fucking. Touch me!"

His eyes looked horrified. Kenny and Butters ran up behind me to provide support, Kenny speaking up first. "Hey! What's going on here?" He saw Stan in front and shot him a disgusted look before stepping in between us. "Okay look, I know you guys want to talk but let's try to be civil about this, okay? No fighting right in front of the apartment. And Kyle has to go to work right now, too. Let's try to schedule this thing some other time."

"I have nothing to say to you." I said in Stan's direction and walked towards my car. The pathetic look on his face suits him well.

—

Stan's words and actions are the definition of the term: inconsistent. Some days he would show up at Kenny and Butters apartment to try to speak some sense into me. Some days he never came, like I didn't exist. When he texted, he texted in incomplete sentences like he was drunkenly texting. I just felt so sick of it. At what point was he going to stop making me feel so miserable?

I was grading papers after school at my desk when one of the yard duty teachers knocked on my door. I must have looked serious or constipated because they had the right to look every bit concerned. "Hi Mr. Broflovski?" I looked up and nodded my head, adjusting the glasses on my face. "Someone told me to deliver this letter to you."

A letter? The yard duty teacher walked over and handed it to me, their walkie-talkies blazing: "A kindergartner shoved a bunch of toilet paper down the toilet again and tried to flush it and it's overflowing now. Can we get someone to call the janitor? Can't get a hold of him right now."

They sighed before taking their leave and closed the door, leaving me and my classroom in silence. I peered at the letter that they placed on my desk before opening it hesitantly. God, if this is from Stan…

—

Give me a chance.

—

Huh? I turned the paper around to look for an address or name, but there was nothing to be found. That was when I got up and tried to look for the yard duty teacher, but they were already gone.

My phone ringer then went off, and I could see Stan's caller ID on my phone. Okay, I was seriously done with playing games. This has gone on for far too long.

I took a big deep breath in (just like my therapist tells me to do before I do something stressful) and picked up the phone. "Okay Stan, I am fucking done with you! You're harassing me at work and when I tell you to leave me alone. Just disappear and leave me alone!"

There was a pause on the other end, then the phone call hung up.

By this time, I was livid. Stan had the nerve to harass me at work and waste my time. I don't know why I put up with him for the past couple of years. I just thought…I meant something to him. That was why I stayed. My anger and frustration were choking me at my throat, to come out. But I was still at work - I couldn't possibly let this get to me right now.

I crumpled up the paper in my hands and stormed out of the classroom, my face flush with a multitude of different emotions.

—

I decided to call out sick and left some sub plans for the teacher who was going to take over my place for the rest of the day. Sorry, kiddos. Mr. Broflovski feels sick to his stomach right now. Kenny called and texted me to see if I was okay and if I wanted some dinner at his place with Butters, but I politely declined. For right now, I just wanted to be alone. Destress. Maybe watch an episode or two of Friends.

As I walked down the street to my house and pulled out my keys to unlock the door, I noticed that the door was unlocked. Again? I gulped, and it felt like a rock hit the bottom of my stomach. Did Stan break in again? I need to move somewhere else.

This was a really stupid idea, but I took a flowerpot from my porch and slowly eased the door open. My hands were visibly shaking as I was holding the flowerpot in both, using my foot to keep the door wide open in case Stan jumped out at me.

"S-Stan…? I know you're fucking in there!" My voice was shaking, a little bit scared that Stan was going to jump out at any moment. My apartment was pitch black, and I cursed myself for not leaving a light on before I left to stay at Kenny and Butters' place. "Give me back my fucking house key!"

My eyes rapidly searched down the hallway and living room to see if any shadows were hiding in the dark - or for any sudden movement. Nothing made itself clear yet - so I slowly walked down the long hallway of my apartment and peeked my head around the corner to look into the kitchen and living room. Nothing. It was absolutely quiet except for the…

Laundry machine?

I heard a banging and rattling noise from my laundry machine, which was on the other side of my apartment, near the bedroom. I was still holding the flower pot in my hands as I rounded the corner to see–

Suddenly, I froze in my tracks. It felt like my blood ran cold, and I couldn't move a muscle.

From where I was standing, I could see in my front loader washing machine, the familiar clothing colors of blue, red, and brown. Except all of the clothes were stained a dark, blood red. It seemed like there was a heavy object on the inside of the washing machine, which was making it shake back and forth vigorously. But when it stopped to add more water, I could swear I saw a human face on the inside of the washing machine.

My hands felt empty, and I don't know when, but I must have dropped the flower pot.

As I was frozen in the hallway of my apartment, I could see the reflection of another face staring back at me from my washing machine. They were smiling.

And that was all I could make out before a thick black cloth covered my head.

—

When I awoke, the air felt musky and heavy to breathe. The black cloth, or bag, was still draped over my head so I could not see anything - much less make out shapes inside the room I was in. My muscles felt tense and unmoveable, like I was paralyzed in one position. As I tried to struggle around and move, I figured out that it wasn't because I couldn't move - I was tied up. I stopped moving then, my heart beating fast in my chest.

Is this how it all ends? I get kidnapped and never see the light of day again? My life must suck right now, dude.

I bit down on my lower lip, trembling slightly in the chair I was tied up in.

I'll never see my friends or family ever again.

And when they do see me, I'll be in a casket.

"What are you thinking about, Kyle?" A voice as smooth as butter cut through the sea of voices in my head, making me turn my head in the direction of the sound.

"What the fuck are you doing? If this is some kind of sick joke that Stan let you in on, then I'm done. I am going to call the cops."

The other person only sighed and chuckled under their breath. Their intonation and the way they said things sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place my hand on it.

"Okay, let's do it this way then. What are you thinking about, dear sweet Kahl?"

"Cartman!?" I felt the other snicker from across the room. "Why are you doing this?! Get me out of here right now, you fat ass!"

It had been years since anyone had seen Cartman, much less heard from him. He went AWOL for no reason before we graduated from university, and now he shows up unannounced like this?

"Aww," He cooed lightly, then started to step closer to me. "Is that any way to greet an old friend? Especially after what I've done for you?"

"What?" My eyes went wide and even under the black cloth, it felt like they were going to pop out of my head. "Eric. What did you do?"

There was nothing but laughter from the other man. Just laughter and him clapping his hands together like I told a hilarious joke. I was starting to panic. What the fuck did he do? Why is this so fucking funny to him?

"Eric! Tell me right fucking now, what did you do - you fatass!"

With a furious tug, the black cloth was removed from the top of my body and I felt my whole head snap back in recoil. The lights were dim in the room, but I could make out Cartman's figure on my left side. I was not prepared for what I was about to see.

In front of me, from the walls to the ceiling, extending to the floor, were pictures of me. There were close-ups of my face, my head from the back, a zoomed-in shot of me working in my classroom, and more. I felt sick to my stomach. I gagged with full force and released what I had for lunch onto the floor, splattering over the pictures and making my hair turn a greenish-yellow color. I felt dizzy and sick.

I again asked the sick fuck standing next to me, "What the fuck did you do, Eric. Tell me right now."

"Hmm, I don't think I will. It's way more fun seeing you squirm around like this," I could see him cross his arms from beside me, moving into a thinking pose. "Well, let's just say that it involves dear Stan."

The washing machine.

The horrendous amounts of blood that spilled out from the front door.

The morphed evidence of what once was a human face peeking from the door of the washing machine.

I was silent for a moment.

"Did you…kill Stan?"

Cartman leaned forward and whispered, his hot breath lingering on my ear. "For my sweet little Jew."

For a moment, I had the intrusive thought of thank goodness. But, my heart knew that that was wrong. Cartman just killed my best friend and…ex-lover. I didn't know whether to be angry or sad. I sure as hell didn't feel happy that someone died.

"You don't look too surprised, sweet Kahl," Cartman leaned back onto a table that was placed on the other side of the room. "Could it be that you wanted him to be out of your life?"

I grit my teeth angrily. "Now you're just putting words in my mouth," I shot him an icy glare, or, tried to - in the dimness of the room - you couldn't see anything except silhouettes. "I…I wanted him to move on with his life."

"Yeah, for some dumb bitch who doesn't know any better," I felt Cartman chuckle under his breath and he paused for a moment. "Maybe, I should kill her too."

"Don't!" I cut in, my throat and chest feeling heavy. If someone was going to go looking for the prime suspect in all this, they would probably pinpoint it on me…especially if Stan's body was inside my apartment. Fuck all this. I'm screwed.

Cartman put his arms across his chest, silent for a moment. "Why don't we run away?"

I felt a nerve pop in the back of my brain. "What, with you, fatass?!"

He suddenly started to walk towards me, then put the top of his foot against my groin. The slight pressure of his foot against my crotch area made my stomach drop and feel warm. "Do you have another idea, Kahl?"

I looked over to the side, avoiding his eye contact. There was a picture of me stripping myself of clothing, and getting into the shower. The fact that Cartman had seen me shirtless and vulnerable in my apartment made me feel hot and warm. My cheeks were red as he got closer to my ear, whispering again. "Are you really getting turned on by this, you dirty Jew?"

I didn't respond, but I felt my dick throb involuntarily underneath the pressure of his foot. "I've seen you get railed by Stan," Cartman started to kiss and lick at my ear in circular motions, making my dick harder. I huffed and tried to catch my breath, stifling any moans that wanted to come out of my mouth. "I've seen the positions he's made you get into while he called you his dirty cumslut."

"Hhn..shut the fuck up, Eric." I stuttered back, biting my lip. I am not going to give into this fucktard.

"Make me ginger slut," Cartman's hazel eyes met with mine, showing a mischievous glint. He ripped off my clothes like a hungry beast, not wasting any time at all. Cartman kept my hands and feet tied to the chair, making me feel exposed and cold to the open air. My legs were spread apart slightly and fastened to the chair's front legs. The thought of someone seeing me like this, so bare and revealed, made my dick throb. "I'm going to make you beg for me."

I closed my eyes and looked away from Cartman, gritting my teeth in the process. Whatever he was going to do, I wish he would do it fast so it would be done and over with. However, he then takes my chin and turns my face straight in his direction.

"I would prefer it if you watched what I was about to do next," Cartman's face gets closer to my groin, his hot breath steaming against my semi-erect cock. I bit my lip in anticipation, noticing how close he was to my cock and yet wasn't anywhere near touching it. "I wanna see what kind of dirty faces you can make."

Without warning, he then grabs the sides of my thighs and buries his head into the side of my groin area, inhaling the smell and licking at my testicles. He moves his head up to my shaft, licking up and down the side and leaking pathways of drool onto my bare skin. His tongue then moves up to the tip of my cock and he playfully swirls around it before leaving kisses leading down to my balls again. The feeling of his wild tongue against my sensitive areas causes me to grit my teeth and snap my head back in recoil, closing my eyes to the feeling. "Damn…you…"

Cartman's eyes watch me as he explores the area below, his fingernails digging deep into my thighs. "I don't think you understand how much I've wanted you, from the moment I saw you again," Cartman mumbles into the heat of my skin. "It's been so long since we've seen each other," His tongue licks a trail up from the middle of my thigh, to my stomach, all the way up to my neck. "Why don't we get acquainted again?"

He lets go of my thighs, causing me to release a low gasp from my mouth. The area he was holding me had red marks from how hard he was gripping my thighs. Cartman starts to unbuckle his belt and pants, discarding them onto the floor below. He comes close enough that our noses are touching and grips my chin so that I won't look away from him. He grips both of our members together, stroking them together at a slow pace that made my brain melt at the touch.

"Fuck….you…" I grit through clenched teeth, which is shortly met with a devilish grin.

"Aren't you already?" He pants, then closes the gap between our lips. Curse my brain for thinking all of this legitimately felt good. I hadn't had sex with Stan in a couple of days? Weeks? I had already forgotten the last time he made me feel good. The sight of him turned me off, and I wasn't even sure why I had stayed with him in the first place. I kept thinking a switch would finally turn on in the depths of his brain, and yet nothing had happened in the years that we would date. And now, I knew why.

He didn't want me.

He never wanted me.

I was just a rebound for when things between him and Wendy didn't work out.

The sudden thoughts of Stan cause me to tear up, and my eyebrows arch upwards. Tears started to stream out from my eyes and I gasped for air while Cartman was trying to enter my mouth. Maybe, this would be all that I could be reduced to. Just a play toy for others to use as they please.

"Fuck him," I suddenly feel Cartman back off and say, causing me to open my eyes in shock. "I want you to forget about Stan. Think about me, instead," One of his hands traces light circles around the nipple through my shirt, causing me to shudder in response. "Think about…how good this makes you feel."

As I was about to say something, Cartman then holds my erect cock at the base and strokes me in a way that my melting brain isn't able to comprehend. The gentle, yet fierce approach as he was having his way with me caused me to dissolve into a submissive state. I wanted more of his touch. I wanted more of something that could erase my brain from thoughts that made me even remotely sad. I didn't want to think about Stan anymore.

As Cartman continued to ravish me into the darkened hours of the night, I felt myself growing colder and more numb by the second. His voice echoes into the room as the lights go dark and the door he leaves through shuts, with a final click.

"You're mine, now."