Kyle Broflovski is sixteen and going crazy. He's desperate to get out of South Park, his only home his entire life. He's confused, angry, and feels more alone than ever, so why not work at the dingy strip club at the edge of town? Wait -- is that Cartman?? Shit. /\/\/\ I needed to escape. The walls began to close as my throat tightened, my brain working fast to come up with solutions to my own personal hell. If I don't leave this quiet mountain town I swear I will die here. So there's dying, or there's leaving. /\/\/\ "No Kahl," he says in a calm voice, "My plan is not to kill you. You're my slave now, and again, you're of more use alive than you are dead. Really, all I want to do is cut you up." "You're sick," I spit at him. "How can you do this, Cartman? We've known each other forever and you're going to torture me?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!" He doesn't seem to hear me. A strange glazed look washes over him as he lifts his hand and carefully twirls the sharp point into my stomach, ripping a tiny hole in the black latex and digging lightly into my skin. "Cartman... please..." I beg. The fear swells in the pit of my stomach -- he's trapped me. He sighs and shakes his head, smiling, "Kahl, Kahl, Kahl... you're gonna have to learn to trust me. See this whole relationship of ours, for lack of a better word, might be filled with mutual hatred but, for us to continue this little... arrangement, you need to trust me. And I, you. And to do that," he kneels and sits eye level with my crotch. I try to move my privates away from him and the sharp point of the knife, but the harnesses have me trapped, like a fly caught in his web. "I have to be in complete control of you, and you have to accept it." /\/\/\ Reposting from Fanfiction.net (previously called Heaven) There is BDSM and edge play, as well as hardcore sex scenes, murder, cannibalism, racist language, drugs, alcohol, and basically everything on a Trigger Warning page.
30 parts