Kyle turns to cam work to pay off his student loans. Using a mask and pseudonym, he finds success but worries about being recognized. His most generous client, "ETC1000", outbids others and pays $2,000 for a private session, heightening Kyle's anxiety over his secret being exposed.

1. Valerie
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/27068773.
Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: South Park
Relationship: Kyle Broflovski/Eric Cartman
Character: Kyle Broflovski, Eric Cartman, Kenny McCormick
Additional Tags: Sex Work, Cam guy, Mistaken Identity, Webcam/Video Chat Sex,
Sexual Roleplay, Aliases, Dirty Talk
Stats: Published: 2020-10-17 Words: 19345
Valerie
by shortstackedcheesecake96
Summary
Struggling with mountains of debt, Kyle turns to cam work in order to pay off his student
loans. He tries hard to maintain his privacy, but it's all put to the test when a familiar face
becomes his most generous client.
Notes
Woah, so it feels like it's been a minute but I'm back! This is probably the most smut-heavy
fic I've ever written and of course, it was so much fun. I feel like I would be remiss,
however, not to mention the fics that inspired this one. Check them out if you're so inclined!
I Always Do by NocturnalLament (https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11268644/1/I-Always-Do)
Insert Clever Mormon Title here by RoxIsGone
(https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8696168/1/Insert-Clever-Mormon-Title-Here)
And, honestly, my amazing friend polarspicecap's influence is all over this fic but one of the
biggest inspirations is from ch.14 of her fic The Quarin' 20s
(https://archiveofourown.org/works/23557162/chapters/63483568).
Title comes from the song Valerie by Amy Winehouse.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy and I'd love to know your thoughts! Thank you for reading!
On the outside, Kyle Broflovski lives a successful life. He lives in New York, and is a paralegal for
a very swanky law firm. His mother is proud of him and, miraculously, so is his father. But inside,
he feels like a failure, a sham, and all because he has a mountain of debt. Studying for seven years

2. is expensive, living in New York even more so, and combined with the astronomical debt he
accrued while paying off everyone's debts in South Park, means Kyle is destined for a life in the
red. Honestly, as smart as Kyle was as a kid - and still is - he didn't really understand how credit
worked when he was 9 years old. Although, he wasn't going to tell that to the desperate, bed-sheet
wearing crowds he was drawing in, draining the economy with their ill-advised cheapskatery
because they understood credit even less than Kyle did. If he had known back then just how much
his great sacrifice would fuck up his finances, and how little people would appreciate it, he
wouldn't have bothered. But nobody with foresight becomes a martyr.
He can't even console himself that he may be broke, but at least he's doing better than his other
friends, because they've all done pretty well for themselves and actually seem happier than he
does. Stan is a marine biologist in Long Beach, living his best hippie life, Kenny is an artist at the
very first tattoo parlour in South Park, and Cartman, much to Kyle's utter disdain, lives in New
York too. Naturally, he has some high-flying finance job, and his social media is filled with enough
photos of yachts and not-so-well-concealed lines of coke and baggies of pills to make Jordan
Belfort start grinding his teeth. Although they run in different circles, the fact that he and Cartman
are in the same city is enough to make him break out in hives, and he dreads the possibility of
running into him in one of the most densely populated cities in the world.
But Kyle knows that suffering in silence is never productive. He would never ask for money,
because his mom would immediately go into protective, helicopter mode and insist he move back
to Colorado, maybe South Park, maybe his old bedroom because it's considerably cheaper than
living where he is now. But even if he did move back, the lectures from his father would make him
feel considerably unwelcome. He could talk to Stan about it, of course, he's his best friend, but that
doesn't necessarily make him the best shoulder to cry on. No, the only person Kyle feels could
really appreciate what he is going through is Kenny. They meet up for coffee when Kyle is home
at Thanksgiving, and even though he has to swallow a big lump of pride to admit he is struggling
financially, Kenny's unfazed expression, and solemn nods are encouraging enough for Kyle to
offload with little inhibition. He tells Kenny how he is budgeting, cutting down on certain luxuries,
but really he needs to find a way to maximise his income. He is already doing as much overtime as
his employer is willing to give him. Kyle just needs to know how to make a little extra on the side.
When Kenny suggests sex work - and cam work specifically - Kyle almost spits out his coffee, but
takes a moment when he realises Kenny is completely serious. He did it, Kenny says, in college
when he needed extra cash. He admits he probably wouldn't have made it through college without
it. To Kyle, it makes total sense for Kenny. He's uninhibited, unabashed, and has always been able
to appreciate his body in a purely utilitarian capacity. Bodies are not sacred to Kenny. That's why
he had no problem jumping off people's roofs at parties, or setting his hair on fire at the back of the
school bus, because he knows that bones break but can easily be put back together if you spend
long enough in a cast. Your hair may be singed and damaged, but it'll grow back eventually. Plus,
Kenny is still one of the most beautiful people Kyle has seen in real life, and with his piercings and
tattoos he's turned from being simply handsome into a work of art. He is in no doubt that people
would pay top dollar to watch him take his clothes off, perform lewd acts for their entertainment
and gratification. If his body can make some serious cash for him, then he may as well go for it.
Kyle doesn't know if he could say the same thing for himself. He doesn't think he's very attractive,
but he can look at his naked body and not feel totally disappointed. He still plays basketball, after
all, and takes runs in the park, so he keeps himself fit. It just seems ironic to him that while Kenny
is gorgeous and so liberated with his body, Kyle feels average at best and is so precious about his.
But maybe it has little to do with self-esteem, and more with comfort zones and boundaries. Kyle
has never had a one-night stand, but he's had a couple good relationships. He very rarely sends dick
pics or nudes, and always feels a little embarrassed when a significant other sends one to him, but
he still slips a hand into his pants anyway. He leaves the coffee shop that day after promising

3. Kenny he would consider it, and consider it he did. He knows Kenny wouldn't have suggested it if
he didn't think it was viable, if he didn't think Kyle would have some success and people would
want to see him. Subsequently, it's all he thinks about for the entire holiday and when he returns to
his apartment, with shaking hands and a lot of alcohol, he gives it a try.
He keeps his camera low, obscuring his face because his privacy is more important than ever. If
even one person from college, or South Park recognises him, he will be utterly mortified. He only
reveals himself from the neck down, but still gets a positive response from a dozen or so horny
men, all masturbating over his naked body at the same time, and he makes $1,000 on his first
night. It's flattering for sure, and also a huge incentive to keep this up.
Just like anything Kyle pursues, he takes it seriously. As privacy is of the utmost importance, he
decides to have a makeover. He has his mop of frizzy, red hair cut into a cropped style, short on the
sides with a little bit of curly length on top. He almost does a box job with his hair colour, but when
he lets this slip to one of his colleagues she insists he visit her stylist to have his hair professionally
dyed. He's glad he did. They settle on a deep reddish brown that makes Kyle still feel like himself,
while also in disguise. He just really hopes no one in work ever finds out about his, uh,
'moonlighting'. But that's where the mask comes in. The first mask he purchases is a tight, black
leather gimp mask that a lot of his customers appreciated (Kyle hesitates to call them clients.
Clients are people you do business with for an extended period of time, clients are the serious
people in fancy suits who spend hours in his office's conference room. Customers are people who
may only visit a store once to buy a pack of gum, or a newspaper and you probably never see them
again. You forget they exist). Kyle, however, does not appreciate the mask. It makes him feel
claustrophobic and overheated, but he soon finds the perfect one. A sleek, black mask that you
would probably find at a masquerade ball, except without any embellishment, or glitter, or feathers,
and it ties into a neat bow at the back of his head. He also needs a pseudonym. Most of his
competition use short, monosyllabic names, like Hal, or Mal, or Sal. Intentionally mismatched,
Kyle thinks, considering all these guys are ripped twenty-somethings with the names of middle-
aged dads. Kyle decides to follow in the tradition, and go by 'Val.'
It really does feel like an alter ego, and ironically, the mask and the fake name makes him feel
more liberated than ever. He's been doing this for four months nightly now, and he becomes more
and more comfortable with each session. He feels like he's finally achieving that practical,
utilitarian perspective that Kenny achieved so long ago. But his face still warms and his stomach
still twists when a customer murmurs how attractive they think Kyle is or what they would like to
do to him as they stroke themselves. He hopes he never loses that, because while this is ultimately
for financial gain he doesn't have much time for dating so it's nice to just get off with someone,
even if he's just masturbating in front of a camera a lot of the time. But it is indeed as lucrative as
Kenny said, and Kyle is noticing a marked improvement in his finances. The dread he feels when
he opens his banking app is slowly disappearing, even if he has used some of his money to pay for
a collection of sex toys, but it's technically a business expense. He is building an online brand, of
sorts. This is exactly the kind of utilitarian perspective he needs. This isn’t about feelings, or love.
His body can be sacred when he’s on a date, when he finally meets someone, but in front of the
webcam it is a product he’s selling, and frankly, he sells it fucking well.
If he can go by the noises his customer is making right now at least. He came a few seconds ago,
but is still moaning and gasping in the aftermath, sounding startled as well as relieved. Granted,
this dude is in his 60s and is probably just stoked that he’s still capable of maintaining an erection
and ejaculating at all. But right now, Kyle doesn’t care that he’s a point to prove. He just wants to
cum himself. He bucks up into his hand a couple of times, hips raising higher with each thrust. He
moans, embellished sure, but they turn Kyle on just as much as they turn on any customer. He
finally cums, dick still pointing at the camera so the customer can get a good view of him blowing
his load. Kyle blinks his eyes open, catching his breath. He feels warm cum sliding over his

4. knuckles.
“That was great…” his customer exhales, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Thank you…”
Kyle gulps, shooting the camera a small, coy smile before he cleans himself up. Once he’s done,
he brings the laptop close to him and clicks on the chat box. The whole thing only lasted about
twenty minutes. Kyle is concerned about this guy getting his money’s worth.
“wanna go again?”
He watches his customer read the message.
“Oh no… no, I’d love to but I’m beat,” he replies, tucking his dick back in his pants. He chuckles.
“You young men have so much stamina. I miss it…”
Kyle smothers his grimace when he remembers this guy is definitely old enough to be his father,
and instead smiles in acknowledgement.
“I appreciate it though. It’s been very, um, difficult for me lately, with my divorce…” his eyes
wander his keyboard, and he nods wistfully to himself. “It can get very lonely.” He smiles at Kyle.
“So, thank you again.”
Kyle usually does his best to avoid talking during his sessions, to safeguard his privacy and to keep
a healthy level of detachment. But his heart clenches a little when he hears this guy talk, and he
doesn’t want to add to his feeling of isolation. He nods, and smiles.
“It’s okay…”
“It’s funny, I felt lonely even with an amazing wife, and wonderful children, and I still feel lonely
now. Even when I’ve got what I always wanted. I just don’t know what to do with all this freedom.
I didn’t realise it would be so hard…” he chuckles ruefully, shaking his head. “Sorry, I don’t mean
to bore you-”
“No, it’s fine,” Kyle cuts in, scrambling for any reassurance he can give. “I, uh, hope you find what
you’re looking for.” He nods sympathetically. “It’s tough.”
His customer smirks.
“Even for young, attractive men like you?”
Kyle snickers, ducks his head. Post-orgasm he finds compliments from his customers more
uncomfortable than emboldening.
“Yeah, I guess…”
His customer shifts on his bed, clearing his throat and leaning a little closer to the camera.
“Would you ever want to…”
Dread crawls over Kyle’s skin, and his eyes widen.
“Oh no...” He immediately feels awful, frowning. “No, I'm sorry…”
“It’s fine,” he replies, waving off Kyle’s rejection and trying to smile. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
Kyle purses his lips, rubs them together as he thinks of a softer blow.

5. “I just don’t date people I chat with here…”
His customer nods.
“Perfectly understandable… maybe I’ll see you here sometime?”
Kyle smiles tightly, and nods.
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Have a good night.”
Kyle offers another tight smile, and the customer disappears from the screen.
It's a typical Tuesday evening for Kyle. He has his laptop resting on the foot of his bed, and he's
standing in front of it fully dressed. The screen is sliced in half. One half shows Kyle, waiting with
fake coyness for more people to enter the chat, the other half shows a chatroom waiting for bids.
He fiddles with a button on his shirt, glancing at messages from the early-comers who are growing
impatient, demanding he just get naked already. Thirty people have joined the chat, the limit for an
'auction' like this. Without a word, he starts. He unbuckles his belt, and the offers come rolling in.
$100, $200, $300. The baseline Kyle is used to. The more clothes he sheds, the higher they'll bid.
He drops the belt to the floor and the bids increase. $400, $500, $600. He begins unbuttoning his
shirt (he stays in his shirt and trousers that he wears to work. When he's wearing the masks, shirts
are easier to take off than sweaters. Plus, unbuttoning a shirt is way sexier), and has popped open
the third button when a user named 'ETC1000' joins the chat and makes an opening bid of $800.
Kyle blinks, startled. It seems to rumble the other customers, and even though Kyle always keeps
an eye on the bidding, his eyes are glued to the screen to see what this mysterious bidder will offer
next.
He unbuttons the rest of his shirt, and is pulling it from his shoulders and letting it slide off his
arms when ETC1000 bids $1,000. About six or seven people drop out as soon as they make their
first bid, but Kyle can see the numbers dwindling. It looks like ETC1000 is the person he's going to
be spending his night with. He undoes the button of his trousers and tugs down his zipper, and
ETC1000 increases his bid to $1,500 before Kyle even pulls them down. Eleven people have now
dropped out, and the remaining twelve are still trying to match him. Kyle hooks his fingers into the
waistband of his boxers, and ETC1000 bids $2,000. Kyle pulls his underwear down and kicks them
off his ankles, watching the other customers either drop out or bid for less. Nobody bids higher
than $2,000 and Kyle accepts his offer.
There's a thirty second countdown before the video chat starts, and as Kyle gets into position on
his bed, his mind is racing with thoughts of this generous, affluent stranger who thinks Kyle is
worth so much. It's definitely one of the highest offers he's ever accepted. Kyle gets into the normal
position. Pillow propped against his headboard, leaning back with his legs spread. He watches the
clock count down until it gets to one second, and his intrigue curdles into blood-freezing panic
when he sees Eric Cartman grinning at him, drink in hand in his Patrick Bateman-esque apartment.
His hair is as neat as his scotch, and he's still in what Kyle assumes is his work attire.
Kyle is waiting for the realisation, for the shock, for the pure, sadistic delight to spread across
Cartman's face as he declares he's going to tell everyone back home about this. That Kyle, the
straight-A student, the valedictorian, the fancy paralegal in New York is a fucking cam guy. Kyle
is already preparing for how he will deal with all this on his next visit home, if he can even return
to South Park after this, but Cartman says nothing. He just studies his naked body with approval,

6. with hunger.
"Okay, this is a much better angle."
Maybe he really doesn't recognise him. Kyle is frozen. He feels like he's having an out of body
experience, like he's just a ghost looking down at this situation and fretting over what the best
course of action would be. Should he back out? Just log off, shut his laptop down and hope
Cartman never visits the site again? Should he curse him out? But would that only draw suspicion,
and actually reveal his identity to Cartman who seems none the wiser? But even if Cartman is
oblivious, could Kyle even live with himself? Still, it's $2,000...
Cartman's eyebrows raise, and he leans forward.
"Hey, man, can you hear me?"
Kyle nods, mouth still clamped shut. He has to pull himself together. He can do this. What
Cartman doesn't know can't hurt him, or Kyle, especially if he treats him like any other customer.
Unlike his other customers though, Cartman isn't jerking off. He's just sat on his couch with a
noticeable boner in his pants.
"Say something," he commands.
Oh fuck.
He'll definitely reveal himself if he talks.
Cartman arches an eyebrow and snorts.
"Fuck, is this your first time? It's not a big deal if it is. I'm into that." He seems to be reading the
top of the screen. "What's with the chick's name?"
"It's not a chick's name," Kyle replies, in the first voice he can think of. It's raspy, like an adult
version of the Human Kite. He prays it won't sound familiar to Cartman.
Cartman blinks in surprise, a grin spreading across his face.
"Hey, it talks! Um, and last I checked, Val was a girl's name."
Kyle frowns.
"It's not my real name. Don't bother asking what it is," he rushes to add.
Cartman snickers.
"I'm not going to." He bites his lip and rakes his gaze over Kyle.
Kyle prickles from head to toe at the following realisations: Cartman's eyes are wandering all over
him. Cartman is paying to look at him naked, and god knows what else. But Kyle knows what else,
this isn't his first fucking rodeo after all.
"How much do you have to smoke a day to get a voice like that?"
The tips of Kyle's ears burn.
"I don't smoke..."

7. Cartman doesn't lose that goading grin. It's practically seared into his face. Kyle is sure it will be
seared into his mind too, especially accompanied with his dark, contemplative eyes. They're
twisting Kyle's stomach in knots.
"Sure, you don't. That's just all-natural, right?" He sighs. "Fuck it." He sets his drink aside and sits
up, pulling his laptop closer. "I wanna know what you sound like with your hand on your cock."
Kyle wants to gag when he hears Cartman demand that, in a low, ragged voice, but instead he
gulps. He hopes Cartman doesn't notice it, but he's never had someone look at him so closely, so
intently before, not even other customers. Kyle's sure Cartman saw his Adam's apple bob in his
throat so tellingly, and it probably made his dick twitch in his pants. He shuts his eyes briefly as he
reaches in between his legs. He feels like he's moving in slow motion. When he opens his eyes
again, Cartman is watching with lips parted. His laboured breathing is audible, twinned with
Kyle's. He wraps his hand around his cock, stroking himself tentatively and trying to bite back any
noises. Usually, he has to embellish his moans, whimpers, and groans but he's smothering them
now. His cock hardens in his hand, and his hips are twitching. He's aching to groan, and
suppressing them only succeeds in making his breathing terser, more ragged through his nose,
humming choked-off groans.
"Faster..." Cartman murmurs.
Kyle's face is on fire. He cracks an eye open and sees that Cartman is just stroking at himself
through his pants. He would feel a lot better if he got his dick out, at least that would tip the power
balance more equally. Even if Kyle knows that's not exactly what Cartman paid for.
Kyle opens his mouth, panting.
"Not until you get your dick out too..." he realises he's gonna have to play up to Cartman's
expectations, flatter him. He closes his eyes, picks up his pace just a tad. "I wanna see it..." he
moans. "I wanna see your big, meaty cock..."
He doesn't think he's ever hated himself more, but it gets Cartman to comply. Kyle keeps his eyes
on Cartman's hands as he undoes his pants, opens his fly and pulls out his cock. It's not huge, but
it's thick. So thick that Kyle's mouth grows heavy and his first thought is how it would feel in his
mouth. He squeezes his eyes shut to push out that thought immediately. This is Val thinking, not
him. He starts jerking off hard and fast, hips keening to his hand, and he moans. His skin feels hot
and dewy with sweat.
Cartman chuckles, low and satisfied.
"You like it, huh?"
Kyle nods.
"Uh-huh..."
"Fuck yeah..." Cartman mutters. When Kyle opens his eyes, he sees Cartman is jerking off
vigorously. "Thinking about it inside you? Stretching that tight, little hole of yours?"
"Mmhmm... " Kyle whimpers, chewing his lip. He is indeed thinking about how it would feel if
Cartman was fucking him, but only because he forced the image into his head.
Cartman doesn't press for more, but the lack of conversation is filled with unsynchronised pants,
and the occasional groan and whimper. Kyle is used to the watered down, crackled noise through a
computer screen, but Cartman's noises really do raise the hairs on the nape of his neck, like he's

8. moaning directly into his ear.
"You got toys there, right?" he asks.
Kyle nods, mouth heavy and agape. He feels hazier than he's ever felt during these sessions.
"Get the biggest vibrator you have..."
Kyle sits up, and leans across his bed to reach into his nightstand. He has amassed an impressive
vibrator/dildo collection, but admittedly the biggest one he's ever purchased is one he doesn't use
very often. Eight inches, and thicker than Cartman, it's one that Kyle has experienced more
discomfort with than pleasure. But he has a feeling that if he picked out one of his favourite
vibrators, Cartman would not be satisfied. While he's there, he also reaches for his lube. He sits
back in front of the laptop, slathering his fingers with it. Cartman is still jerking off and watching
as intently as before. Kyle lies back, and spreads his legs. He reaches in between them with his wet
hand.
"Wait..."
He looks up at the sound of Cartman's interjection.
"Play with your balls first... with your wet hand... don't stop jerking off..."
Kyle obeys, stroking his balls with his wet hand while wrapping his hand around the base of his
cock with the other. He lifts his cock, so the head is pointing directly up at him. It gives Cartman a
good view of him massaging his balls, and he moves his hand in short, quick motions at the base,
barely paying any attention to his shaft.
Cartman's lips part in a pleased smile. His eyes are gleaming.
"That's it..." he whispers, his head dropping back with a breathy moan. "That looks so good..."
It feels good too. He's never paid this much attention to his balls before, nor has any romantic
partner, nor anybody else he's had a session with. There's a tight pressure building in his gut that he
hasn't experienced before. His whole body is tensing, face scrunching up and he bites down on his
bottom lip. His hips are quivering, his heavy balls drawing tighter and tighter beneath his quick,
desperate fingers. He gasps, and then cries out when he cums, splattering all over his belly. His
body jerks in the aftermath, flopping like a fish out of water. He's pulled out of his post-orgasm
haze by Cartman snickering. He blinks his bleary eyes open and sees how delighted Cartman is.
His cheeks are flushed, and his dark eyes are boring into him.
"That felt good, huh?"
Kyle nods, head falling back against the pillow.
Cartman licks his lips, smile wilting at the corners.
"Taste your cum..."
Kyle swipes some semen off his belly, and sucks it off his fingers.
"How does it taste?" Cartman asks, part-taunt, part burning question.
"It tastes..." Kyle moans, licking the rest off his fingers while he searches for an appropriate
adjective. "Nice..."

9. Cartman groans, smile unfurling across his face and he strokes his cock rapidly.
"Yeah, I'll fucking bet it does, you little slut..." his voice is gravelly, taut. "Have some more..."
Kyle swipes some off the sensitive head of his cock. He whimpers, and he can hear Cartman
snickering. It tastes different there, mingled with pre-cum.
"Come on, savour it. You can suck harder than that..."
Kyle shoves his fingers in deeper, until he's swallowed all the cum and he's basically fucking his
throat. He gags when his teeth scrape against his knuckles, lurching forward and removing them
from his mouth. Cartman barks with laughter.
"I didn't think you'd have a gag reflex..."
Kyle scowls.
"Of course I have a fucking gag reflex..."
"How else would you choke on my big, fat cock, right?"
"Ha-ha," Kyle replies, rolling his eyes.
"And speaking of my big, fat cock, get that vibrator in your ass."
Kyle resists the urge to retort, reaching for the lube and slathering some more on his fingers.
"I didn't say you could do that."
"I don't need your permission to prep myself."
"When I'm paying you two thousand dollars I think you do. Besides, your fingers are adequately
lubricated."
"Not for this!" Kyle replies, holding up the vibrator to the camera.
Cartman's eyes almost pop out of his head. If he was a cartoon, Kyle is sure they would have, and
he would definitely be drooling profusely.
"Fuck..." he whispers, before shaking his head. "Okay, whatever, just hurry... " He sits back,
picking up pace on his cock once more. "I can't wait to see you fuck yourself with that."
Kyle shifts a little on the bed, spreading his legs again and he shoves one finger inside him, before
quickly adding a second. He can find his prostate in record time now, a skill that he can't wait to
use in, you know, real life sex. He smiles, biting his lip and writhing. A long, satisfied sigh escapes
through his nose.
Cartman is leaning so close to the camera, it's like he's trying to climb through the screen. Kyle
doesn't try too hard to fight the thought of Cartman on top of him as he plays with his prostate.
"Add a third..." he commands.
Kyle does, mouth falling open with a gasp. His brows are furrowed.
"Fuck... " Cartman moans. "You like stretching yourself out for me? For that monster fucking
vibrator? Gonna take it all the way to the hilt, huh?"

10. Kyle nods, eyes squeezed shut, writhing on his bed.
"Put it in now..."
Kyle slips his fingers out. He feels stretched, but looking at the vibrator he's not sure if it's enough.
He turns it on and sets it to the second highest intensity to be kind to himself. He chokes as he
presses it against his asshole. The vibration sends a tingling, soothing feeling down his legs and
sends blood rushing to his already chubby cock. He cries out when he starts pushing the vibrator in
deeper, his hole stretching wider and wider to accommodate its girth. His eyes are squeezed shut so
hard he can feel his eyelashes against his cheeks, and his whole body is quivering. His heart is
pounding, his stomach clenching.
"Aaah, fuck..." Cartman moans, and it gets Kyle to pause. He watches, enthralled as Cartman's hand
moves in a blur over his red, sore cock. "You look f-f-fucking incredible... aaah- aaah!"
Kyle blinks, watching with exhilarated breaths as Cartman cums. With each broken moan another
white arch spills into his hand. Kyle's mouth twitches, uneasy arousal pooling in the pit of his
stomach. Cartman is panting heavily, not looking at Kyle. He's actually about to ask if he's alright,
before he looks up with a red face, those same dark eyes, and something resembling a snarl.
"Keep going," he pants. "Don't you dare stop."
Kyle thinks that Cartman probably wasn't ready to cum yet, and that he's actually disappointed. He
wants to cheer him up, he is paying him two grand, after all.
"Fuck you." Kyle spits. He whines, and throws his head back, anguished. "I don't know if I can
take it."
He cracks an eye open to see Cartman's eyes glinting again, stroking at his cock almost absent-
mindedly. It's working.
"Yes, you can." He grins. "I fucking want you to. So you can take all of it."
Kyle nods, whimpering more than is necessary as he pushes more of the vibrator inside him. His
mouth falls open the further he goes, and his hole is stinging the wider he's stretched.
"More..." Cartman commands, masturbating in earnest. "Don't stop... you can take it..."
Kyle cries out when he finds his prostate. His balls draw tighter, and he pumps harder at his
swollen, stiff cock, all aided by the delightful vibration travelling through his body, melting his
insides. He thrashes his head around like it's too much, like he doesn't want it, and whines through
gritted teeth.
"You're gonna break me..." he sobs.
"You fucking love it," Cartman taunts. "I can tell. You love being stretched. You love being filled
up. Don't stop until you cum..."
Kyle has no problem with doing that. They both jerk off furiously, and Kyle cums with a series of
incoherent sobs that consist of strings of 'fuck' and 'yes.' It's probably the longest orgasm he's ever
had and leaves his belly and chest coated with cum. Tears form in the creases of his eyes and trail
down his cheeks, and he's flopping about on the bed again. He tries to fuck himself even more on
the vibrator, grinding on it as he rides out his orgasm. When he opens his burning, wet eyes he sees
that Cartman has made a mess of his pants, and he's whining in the aftermath. He totally missed
Cartman's orgasm while he was revelling in his own. As he descends from his high he is greeted by

11. an uneasy combination of anxiety and arousal at what they just did, and he watches Cartman clean
himself up in silence.
"That... that was fucking great." Cartman chuckles, clearly content. He smiles at him. "Thanks for
that."
Kyle has gone mute again. Reality robbing him of his words. He just nods, and watches Cartman
check his phone.
"I've gotta go," he says apologetically. "I have dinner plans."
All Kyle can do is nod. Cartman just snickers, raking his gaze over him like he did at the beginning
of their session.
"Going all silent on me again, huh? Well, have a good night..." he smiles. "Val."
Cartman logs off, and once his image has disappeared, Kyle throws his laptop to the foot of the
bed. He brings his knees to his chest and stares at the thing like it's cursed, like it somehow
embodied him with some evil spirit that made him think it was acceptable, and fucking hot to
masturbate in front of Eric Cartman. He just sits there for a while, trying to fight off a panic attack,
unable to move, and unable to move on from recent events, playing over and over in his mind. This
is the first time in a long time he's felt dirty doing this, not just because of who it was with, but
because of how much he enjoyed it.
He gets off the bed and limps to the shower, hoping to find clarity, and sanity, and at least a way to
feel purified there, but it's no use. He still can't stop thinking about Cartman; obsessing over every
detail of his eyes, his smile, his cock, what he wanted, the noises he makes when he cums, and if
he'll ever find out who Val really is. When he returns to his room, towel wrapped around his waist,
he sees that he has a notification informing him of the $2,000 going into his bank account. It makes
him feel mildly better. At least this wasn't all for nothing. He remembers he left his laptop on, and
that he's still logged in to the site.
His heart leaps into his throat when he sees he has a message from Cartman. He's dreading opening
the message, but also can't open it fast enough.
"Thanks again for tonight. I want to see you tomorrow too. I'll pay 20 next time."
Kyle stands up straight, reeling. He can't believe Cartman would actually pay that much for him.
It's tempting, really tempting, but is it worth the risk? Or the blow to his dignity? But he tries to
think like Kenny would, like Val would. This has nothing to do with dignity, and all about
practicality and opportunity. Should Kyle really pass up $20,000 for video sex that he knows he's
going to enjoy despite himself? Besides, it does feel a little good to know that Cartman is
unwittingly giving him all this cash. Literal karmic payback. Kyle sighs, straightens his shoulders.
"Sure. See you tomorrow at the same time."
Looks like he has a client, after all.
Kyle is embarrassed to admit that all he's thought about all day is chatting with Cartman.
He tells himself it's because he's going to be $20,000 richer by the end of the night, and that
certainly is a big factor to his excitement, but that doesn't really explain the dirty daydreams, or the
butterflies filling his stomach to the brim as he sits on his bed and turns his laptop on. When he
logs on, a heady feeling of relief crashes over him when he sees that Cartman is online too. It takes

12. mere seconds for ETC1000 to invite him to video chat, and soon the image of Cartman floods his
screen. Just like Kyle, he's dressed in his work attire and also lounging on his bed. His trousers are
unbuckled, and he has one hand tucked into his pants.
"Hey..." Kyle smiles, in the raspy, gravelly voice of before.
"Hi." Cartman grins. He looks Kyle over as usual, but then frowns. "Why aren't you naked yet?"
Kyle has never started these sessions fully naked. He has to disrobe with the camera on him to get
in the zone, to ease himself in. Besides, what's the incentive for the customers to pay him if every
chat started with him naked, on his back, fucking himself with a vibrator, or jerking off?
"Because stripping is all part of it," he replies.
"Yeah, when there are other guys offering you money. I've paid for the privilege of seeing you
naked."
Kyle blinks behind the mask, and he smirks at Cartman's choice of words.
"Privilege, huh?"
Cartman rolls his eyes.
"Nobody would do this if there wasn't a little part of them that thought they were hot. So come on,
get on with it." He shifts on his bed, and tucks his hand deeper into his pants. "I'm a very busy
man."
Kyle snorts.
"So busy that you can spend your evenings hanging out with me?" he asks, but slides off the bed
and moves the laptop anyway.
"Exactly. I don't have time to date anyone."
Kyle stands in front of the laptop, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt like he usually would when
he's waiting for the chat room to fill up, but the screen only shows Cartman's gaze boring into him.
"I think I'll go a little slower tonight..." he teases. "So you can really savour it..."
Cartman doesn't laugh, but Kyle can tell a smirk is dying to creep across his lips.
"You're gonna go as fast as I tell you to go. Clothes off now."
Kyle falls back to his usual routine. He starts with unbuckling his belt, pulling his shirt out of his
pants. Despite what Cartman said, he does begin unbuttoning his shirt slowly, gently pushing the
buttons out of their holes. His eyes are trained on Cartman as he's doing it, and he's totally
preoccupied with Kyle, chewing his lip contemplatively as he palms at his bulge. When every
button is undone, Kyle pulls it from his shoulders with lax, easy movements, like he's yawning and
stretching in the morning. The shirt falls off his arms and lands on the floor behind him.
"Too slow?" he asks, never sounding so coy.
"No..." Cartman replies, voice low and ragged. "No, it's fine. Keep going..."
Kyle unbuckles his pants a little quicker. They drop to the floor and he kicks them off his ankles.
He reaches for his boxers and is just about to pull them down when Cartman interrupts him.

13. "Turn around," he commands. He's palming himself rough and fast through his underwear. "Let me
see your ass."
Kyle swivels on his toes so he's facing the laptop profile. He pulls his underwear down over his ass
so the waistband is resting at the bottom of his cheeks. It's a very flattering angle, and he's
unsurprised when a choked-off moan escapes Cartman's mouth. His head tips back, and he pulls
his cock out of his underwear to jerk off. Kyle decides to not do anything further unless instructed,
because Cartman really seems to be enjoying the view.
"Wait, what's that scar?"
"Huh?" Kyle asks, not so smug anymore.
Cartman jerks his head, frowning but still masturbating.
"The scar..." he's a tad out of breath. "Near your hip..."
Kyle glances at the scar, a long, white ribbon that curves over his hipbone. It's similar to a scar that
Kyle knows Cartman has. His gut clenches with anxiety, never did he think that this would be what
gives him away. Their childhood was filled with so much adventure, so much stuff, so much
trauma, that a life-saving operation just kind of blurs into the background of all the other insane,
emotionally exhausting shit that happened to him and his friends. Really, how did he think he'd
ever escape Cartman when a part of him has been inside his body since he was eight years old?
"Oh, uh, it's just..." he gulps, figuring that if he can play it cool enough he can get away with the
honest answer. "I had a kidney transplant when I was younger."
"Oh..." Cartman nods. "You know, I donated a kidney when I was a kid."
Kyle blinks, and hopes it comes across as genuine intrigue.
Play it cool.
"Really?"
"Well, no, technically it was stolen from me."
Kyle can't help but snort. He rolls his eyes.
"Right..."
"It was!" Cartman sighs, before he's distracted by Kyle's bare ass, and he resumes stroking his
cock. "Whatever, I'd totally bend you over my knee and spank you with your belt if I was there."
Kyle chuckles, relieved. He can practically feel the tension sliding off him.
"I'm not spanking myself with my belt."
"Oh, that would be absolutely no fun for me."
Kyle gives it a couple more seconds before he rids himself of his underwear. Cartman doesn't seem
to mind, grinning and jerking off leisurely.
"That's better. Get on the bed, and I want you to put your cock as close to the camera as possible."
Kyle's eyebrows furrow at the request, mostly because he is unsure how he's going to achieve that.

14. He climbs on the bed, sitting on his knees and straddling his laptop, adjusting the screen so the
camera is pointing directly at his cock. He's unable to see how it looks. In fact, all he can see is his
dick so he assumes he's done a good job.
"Now what?" he asks, lowering his chin although they can't see each other's faces.
"Touch yourself..."
Kyle obeys. His cock is already a little stiff from the strip-tease, and he encourages his boner with
brisk strokes.
"We're gonna do a little roleplay, okay?" Cartman's ragged voice explains from under him. If he
really was under him, his breath would be brushing against Kyle's thighs, his groin. It makes his
dick twitch in his hand. "I want you to imagine... I'm on my knees in front of you."
Kyle closes his eyes to better imagine it, but it's not hard. The last time he saw Cartman in person,
not on social media, not via a webcam, was during winter break of their freshman year of college.
They were at a house party Bebe was throwing, and in Kyle's memory, he's stood outside with
Stan, Cartman, and Kenny. It's snowing, and they're illuminated only by Christmas lights, and the
lights inside Bebe's house. Cartman and Kenny were smoking, and Stan and Kyle had chatted to
them until they decided it was too cold to stay outside talking to them.
In his revised memory, Kenny puts out his cigarette and he and Stan decide it's too cold. They
return to the party and leave Kyle alone with Cartman. With no warning, Cartman drops to his
knees. His eyes are dark with arousal, a little glassy from alcohol, and his cheeks are flushed due to
the unforgiving South Park winter. Kyle gulps.
"You're holding your cock up to my face... you're rock hard... I'm jerking off already... the thought
of sucking your full, juicy cock is driving me crazy... but I'm waiting for you to tell me what you
want..."
Kyle can see it. His hard cock right in front of Cartman's face. He imagines Cartman's mouth
hanging open, his eyes almost crossing as he stares at it, and in reality Kyle smothers a laugh.
Cartman's hand is shoved into his jeans, and Kyle can tell how eagerly he's jerking off by the sound
of his hand rubbing against the cotton, the cotton rubbing against the denim. He tips his head back,
whimpering, and jerks off just as enthusiastically.
"I, uh, put my hand in your hair and tug it a little..." he clears his throat, but his voice is still
threadbare. "And, um, I move my hand further up my shaft and squeeze so... s-s-so some precum
leaks out and I... rub it all over your mouth... coating your lips..."
"Fuck... " Cartman gasps. "F-f-fuck it tastes so good... so warm... I lick my lips... I lick the head of
your cock..."
Kyle shudders. His cock is throbbing in his hand, and he moans.
"Do you like that?"
Kyle nods, eyes squeezing shut.
"Uh-huh. I want you to put it in your mouth..."
"I start sucking at the head... and you pull my hair, a-a-and me push me down, making me take
more of you... I suck you off hard and fast..."

15. While Cartman's vivid description is aiding his fantasy, the fact that he can hear him talking ruins
the illusion when Kyle is imagining his head bobbing up and down beneath his palm, and his dick
filling his mouth.
"I'm pretty sure you can't talk anymore," he points out a little testily.
Cartman snorts, chuckles.
"Right, now you're fucking my throat..."
Kyle chokes on the high gasp that leaves his lips. He starts thrusting into his own hand as he
imagines that he's actually thrusting into Cartman's mouth. He reaches his hand out, expecting to
feel soft, chestnut hair between his fingers but he only grasps at thin air. He blinks his eyes open,
glad that Cartman didn't see that, and just grips the corner of his laptop instead.
"Keep talking," he demands. "Tell me how it feels to have your dick in my throat..."
"I'm pulling at your hair... your mouth is so hot, a-a-and tight around my dick... my -fuck - m-m-
my cock is filling your entire mouth, rubbing against the roof of your mouth, against the back of
your throat..."
Cartman snickers lowly in approval.
"Fuck yeah, that's it. I can practically fucking taste you... you're gonna cum down my throat, huh?
Gonna make me choke on you?"
"N-n-no..." Kyle pants. There's only one thing he wants to do to the Cartman in his head; the one
with cheeks streaked red; drooling a little; moaning, muffled, around his dick. "No, I'm gonna cum
in your face..."
"Do it."
Those two words send Kyle over the edge. He sits back, looking at the screen to see Cartman
jerking off just as furiously as Kyle is. Kyle keeps his eyes on him as he cums with a series of
broken moans, pumping cum all over the screen, all over Cartman's face. Kyle sits back on his
heels, panting, and sweating with his head thrown back to the ceiling. He cracks an eye open when
he hears Cartman laugh. His cum slides down the screen, and reveals his amused, delighted grin.
Kyle feels a different kind of flushed, and he grabs some tissues from his nightstand.
"God damn it..." he mutters, cleaning the screen. Some if it has pooled at the bottom. "If my laptop
breaks because of what we just did I swear-"
"Relax, I'll buy you a new one," Cartman laughs. "Or I can suck you off for real?"
Kyle pulls back, startled by the offer. It's never occurred to him that Cartman would want that, but
doing this in real life is an impossibility.
"We'll call it even," he offers instead.
"No, we'll call it even when I cum too. Lie down. Get your asshole as close to the camera as
possible. I want a good view."
"Am I gonna like where this is going?" Kyle asks, as he throws the tissue aside and turns the laptop
around.

16. "We'll see," Cartman replies, though he sounds pretty confident. "You've had your fun."
Kyle lies on his back with legs spread, although this is probably the closest he's ever been to the
camera. He's practically sitting on the keyboard. He decides he's not elevated enough, so grabs a
pillow and slides it under his ass.
"Is that good?"
"Yeah, it's perfect," Cartman replies, voice shaky and hungry. "Just lift your legs and hold them up
over your head."
Kyle grips the back of his thighs and lifts his legs up and over his head. His ass is raised in the air,
and how long he can keep this position without his legs aching, trembling, or slipping from his grip
will be a true test of his fitness regime. Again, the position he's in means he can't see Cartman at
all, unless he cranes his neck and looks between his legs.
"That's it..." Cartman murmurs. "That looks so fucking good..." Kyle can hear the relentless slap of
his skin as he masturbates. It's soon accompanied by a frustrated, desperate grunt. His voice is
gravelly. "I'd go crazy if I was there with you. I'd wrap your legs around my shoulders and fuck you
with my tongue, my fingers, my cock... you'd like that, right? You'd love someone to play with
your tight, little hole, wouldn't you? Fucking you, and pounding into you..."
Kyle's cock twitches at Cartman's words, and the warm, clenching sensation of arousal seems to
catch in his throat when he's contorted into this almost upside-down position. He moans, eyes
closed.
"Mmhm, I'd love it so much..."
He doesn't imagine the Cartman he last saw in person doing all the things described, he imagines
it's this Cartman. This Cartman with his neat, perfectly styled hair that falls in front of his brow in a
way that's very attractive when he gets all worked up; this Cartman who cleans up remarkably
well. Kyle imagines this Cartman wrapping his legs around his shoulders, fingers digging into his
thighs and burying into his ass, spending all night between his legs until Kyle is sore, stretched,
and satisfied.
"I'd put my mouth all over you, shove my tongue in your hole, then my fingers, and then I'd shove
my cock balls deep inside you. Even when I'm buried deep inside you, even when your head is
thumping against the headboard, you'll be clawing at me, begging me for more, fucking yourself
on my cock because you just wanna be impaled... "
Cartman suddenly moans, long and loud, and Kyle guesses that means he just came. His own cock
is red and chubby, pointing directly at him, almost accusingly, as if it's mad at Kyle for neglecting
it. He hopes to remedy that soon. He sits up, and his muscles seem to sigh with gratitude. The
grooves of his fingers are embedded in his thighs.
"Damn..." Cartman sighs. Kyle notices he's smiling to himself as he cleans himself up.
He chuckles in agreement.
"You've really got a way with words."
"No, I've got a way with my dick."
Kyle snorts.

17. "I don't doubt it."
"Get that vibrator again," Cartman requests, with an encouraging nod. "I wanna see you stretched
out for real..."
Kyle doesn't need to be asked twice. All that talk of playing with his asshole has got him in the
mood, and after last night he is actually excited to use that vibrator again.
After they've both reached their climaxes, and are cleaning up, Kyle is surprised to find that
Cartman hasn't announced any dinner plans, and doesn't seem to be going anywhere soon. Kyle
supposes he could probably cum a third time tonight, but any more than that and his dick will start
to hurt.
"So what do you do when you're not doing this?"
Kyle blinks, the question catching him off-guard.
"What was that?"
"Your day job?" Cartman smiles, arching an eyebrow. "I know you don't do this all day although-"
"'Although you'd fucking love to, you little slut,'" Kyle cuts in with a roll of his eyes. "Is that what
you were going to say?"
"Maybe I was thinking it, but no. I was going to say 'although you're probably not gonna tell me.'"
Kyle clears his throat, nodding a little as he debates whether telling Cartman anything is a good
idea or not. He's going to have to lie, anyway, and withholding information may come across as
suspicious, even though he's well within his rights to not say anything at all. He supposes he wants
to defy Cartman's expectation that he's not going to tell him.
"No, I'll tell you. I'm a, uh, accountant."
"Really?" Cartman grins. Kyle doesn't know why it seems to amuse him so much. "I thought
accountants were boring."
Kyle shrugs.
"All the more reason to have fun when we get home." His brow twitches as he considers whether
he should ask Cartman the same question. If they're still new presences in each other's lives, it only
seems polite. "Uh, what do you do?"
Cartman puffs his chest out a little. Kyle has to smother a laugh.
"I'm on Wall Street."
"Figures." He chuckles.
"Is it really that obvious?"
"You have to be loaded to be willing to pay me all this money... and dumb." Kyle smirks.
Cartman raises his eyebrows, more amused than offended.
"Dumb?"

18. "You should never take financial advice from a rich person."
"Hey! You know who told me to move all my money to the Cayman Islands? My very competent
accountant! But if I ever wanna file my taxes like a good, honest citizen one year I'll be giving you
a call."
"I think the business we're doing together right now is fine."
"Yeah, you couldn't wear that mask to a meeting. What's up with that, anyway?"
That's an easy one. Kyle doesn't even have to lie.
"Oh, just for privacy," he replies, fiddling with the bow in the back. "In case anyone in work finds
me here."
"Smart." Cartman nods. "So can we do this tomorrow?"
"For how much?" Kyle asks, trying again to play it cool.
"I'll pay fifty next time."
Kyle's mouth drops open at the amount, at how Cartman offered it like it was nothing.
"Seriously?"
"Yeah, I'm a dumb, rich guy after all." He grins.
Kyle chuckles, rolls his eyes.
"Then sure we can. "
Cartman seems to be almost beaming with delight.
"Great, so... good night, Val."
"Good night." Kyle smiles, but it fades too quickly when Cartman is gone.
This arrangement continues nightly for a week. Kyle logs on at a specific time, to find Cartman
either waiting for him, or joining him seconds later. Kyle strips, and then awaits Cartman's requests
to touch himself, to fuck himself, to lie on his back, sit on his knees, lifts his legs up in the air
while Cartman showers him with praise, with vivid descriptions of what he would like to do to
Kyle, (or what he imagines Kyle would like do to him. He's becoming increasingly accurate). Then
after, if Cartman doesn't have dinner plans, they'll talk for a little while.
Kyle is always on guard during these conversations, combing through his answers before they
leave his mouth so as not to reveal anything too telling. Cartman asks him some questions about
his life, nothing that he can't mask with a half-truth or a white lie. But mostly their conversations
consist of eye rolls, and laughter, and the verbal sparring Kyle is used to. Their rhythm is an easy
one to slip into, like a catchy song Kyle can't help but tap his foot to, or sing under his breath. He
doesn't think he'll ever really forget it, but sometimes he wonders if Cartman has. South Park must
seem like such a distant memory to him now, and this dynamic of theirs should be the most
revealing aspect of Kyle's identity. He finds himself both relieved and offended that it hasn't
clicked for Cartman yet. Kyle thinks of his hometown, and Cartman is like the sun, bright and
scorching through the magnifying glass of memory. He doesn't think it's arrogant of him to assume
Cartman should feel the same way.

19. He knows that Cartman being none the wiser is definitely for the better. The alternative would be
mortifying, potentially devastating for Kyle. It would ruin this irreparably, not only robbing Kyle
of some excitement, of pretty fucking great orgasms, but also of an abundant flow of cash which is
increasing by the night. With Cartman's help, Kyle will soon have enough to pay off his debts and
then some.
Right now, he is lying on his bed, skin sticking to the sheets and his drenched hair sticking to his
forehead. The room is filled with the sound of his and Cartman's unsynchronised panting. His cock
is sore and still a little stiff, while his ass is just sore. A couple of vibrators - including Cartman's
favourite - are still out on his nightstand. He wanted something different tonight, but couldn't
choose so told Kyle to test a couple out before deciding, obviously, on his favourite vibrator for the
finale.
"Listen," Cartman says, still breathless. He's tucking his dick back into his pants. "I want you to
order something, and I'll pay for it."
Kyle blinks, still hazy and catching his breath.
"Um... sure," he replies, bringing his laptop closer and placing it on his bare lap. "What is it?"
"I'll send you the link."
A chat icon pops up in the corner of Kyle's screen. When he clicks on it, he sees that Cartman has
sent him a link which takes him to a sex toy website, and a page for a vibrating cock ring and butt
plug.
"You haven't already got one, have you?" Cartman asks, eagerness brimming in his voice.
"No..." Kyle replies, gulping to disguise his own intrigue. He's become less nervous for what
Cartman has in store for their sessions now. If anything makes him nervous it's how much he likes
following Cartman's instructions. He often wonders if this is how he behaves with his partners in
real life.
"Good." His voice is unabashedly ragged now. "I really wanna see you wear this one."
"When do you want it to arrive?" Kyle asks, already adding it to his basket.
"I want you to be wearing it before we start talking tomorrow."
Kyle obeys, clicking next day delivery and filling out his shipping and billing information.
"Is this gonna be a regular thing?" he smirks, Cartman returning to his screen. "Should I be
expecting presents every day?"
"I can do that." Cartman chuckles. "It'll be like a horny Hanukkah."
Kyle's stomach leaps into his throat.
"What? Hanukkah?" he gulps, trying to modulate the panic in his voice, but his mind is racing,
unable to come up with a cool, coherent response. "Wh-why Hanukkah?"
Cartman shrugs, frowning.
"I don't know, because it's the only holiday I could think of where there's more than one day of
presents! Plus, I just spent the last hour staring at your circumcised cock." He raises an eyebrow.

20. "Actually, uh, are you Jewish?"
Instinctively, Kyle shakes his head. He needs to throw him off as much as possible.
"No..." his mouth is dry.
Much to his surprise, Cartman actually looks disappointed. His eyebrows droop, and he nods.
"Oh, okay..."
Kyle doesn't even know what answer Cartman was hoping for, and how he would have reacted if
Kyle had responded 'yes.' He sits up and tries to nudge the subject along.
"I just think it's kinda offensive to sexualise a holiday."
Cartman perks up at the opportunity for a debate. Despite Val being a new person in his life, he
has no problem being his obnoxious, antagonistic self around him, but maybe the fact that they've
been so intimate with each other emboldens him? Come to think of it, Kyle isn't sure Cartman
knows how to behave any other way.
"Well, we have to tolerate sexualised Mrs Claus outfits, so the Jews can deal with me being
alliteratively dirty with their holiday names. I actually thought it was quite clever."
Kyle rolls his eyes.
"Mrs Claus isn't a religious figure though. She's purely commercial."
Cartman grins.
"I'll have you know that Christianity and commercialism have got a pretty good thing going on."
Kyle's phone buzzes. An email confirming his order.
"It should be here by tomorrow night," he announces.
"Awesome," Cartman replies, still grinning. "I'll transfer the money to you right now. But if you'll
excuse me I'm gonna go find a dreidel-shaped dildo I can get you to shove up your ass."
Kyle wrinkles his nose. That does not sound practical, or pleasurable at all, and as much as he
doubts they even exist, if anyone is going to find it, Cartman will.
"I really hope you fail."
Cartman chuckles, raking his gaze over Kyle with a soft smile.
"Good night, Val."
Kyle can't help but smile too.
"Good night."
The parcel is at Kyle's door when he arrives home from work. Despite the discreet packaging, he
still feels a little embarrassed that some unsuspecting mailperson had to deliver this to him. But he
knows that's not the only reason he's so flushed. He doesn't know what Cartman has planned
tonight, but he was very excited about the thought of Kyle wearing it, and that excitement has kind
of rubbed off on him.

21. It's the first time he's stripped off before a session started, but Cartman did want him to be wearing
it from the very beginning of the call. He wonders if that request was just a ploy to get him naked
and waiting for Cartman, but kneeling on the bed with the cock ring fitted, he thinks he looks
pretty good, not self-conscious at all. His cock is at half-mast already, the black, silicone ring
cinched around the underside of the base, with an as-yet-to-be turned on vibrating bullet on the
other side. It loops around his balls and connects to the butt plug. Sitting with his legs parted is the
most comfortable position to sit in for now, and towering over the laptop on his knees definitely
makes him feel less like he's in less of a vulnerable position: naked, lubed up, fitted and stretched
by this contraption that his childhood frenemy/client/nightly hook-up has bought for him.
He logs on, and sees that Cartman is already trying to video call him. He accepts, and just as he
hoped, the sight of him takes any arrogant quips out of Cartman's mouth. His eyebrows twitch, his
lips part with delight.
"Oh fuck..." he whispers, shifting on his bed. "I've been waiting for this all day. How does it feel?"
Kyle shrugs, looks down at his cock. He felt a far more noticeable twitch when Cartman appeared
on the screen.
"Alright, I guess? I haven't turned it on yet."
"Good, I wanted you to wait for me." His smile wilts, his breaths hitch, shaky and laboured. "Jesus,
you look so fucking hot..." he fumbles with his belt, tugs down his fly and shoves his hands in his
pants. "Turn around. Hands and knees."
Kyle moves the laptop to give Cartman a better view and so he doesn't accidentally kick it off the
bed when he turns around. He gets on his elbows and knees, spreading his legs and lifting his ass in
the air.
"Put a pillow underneath you... like you did before..."
Kyle obeys, reaching for a pillow and shoving it underneath him. It is more comfortable, especially
when it presses his cock against his stomach.
Cartman chuckles almost mischievously.
"Fuck yeah, that's it... turn it on."
Kyle is glad he's facing away from Cartman, that his trembling can be blamed on the position he's
in rather than his rising anticipation. He pokes his tongue out as he reaches in between his body and
the pillow, fiddling with the little nodule on the bullet before it buzzes to life. He gasps, brow
creasing and mouth falling wide open as the vibration travels up his cock, presses against his
prostate in some weird feedback loop of pleasure. Kyle collapses into his mattress, gasping and
whimpering, when focusing on one particular area is too much for his short-circuiting brain to
handle. But he does thrust against the pillow, knowing it will make him feel all the better.
Cartman chuckles again, more smug this time.
"Feels good, huh?"
Kyle nods, cheek smushed against the mattress and eyes drifting shut.
"Yeah..."
His body is undulating, keening to the vibrations.

22. "Bet you're dying to hump that pillow, aren't you?"
Kyle nods, not caring if it was a rhetorical question.
"Go on..." Cartman demands, gravelly.
Kyle is quick to obey, humping the pillow with long, slow thrusts to really savour it. But as his
cock grows stiffer against his stomach he starts humping the pillow harder and faster. He's huffing,
and grunting, laced with choked-off, desperate moans.
"Look at you..." over the sound of the vibrations, Kyle can hear Cartman's hand slapping against
his cock, quick and aggressive. "So fucking shameless... so fucking willing to bend over and show
off your tight, hot ass for me... such a fucking smartass little slut and now you're stretching your
hole for me, spreading your cheeks for me... you wish I was there with you?"
While Kyle could be having this much fun on his own with his new toy, he imagines Cartman
fucking him doggie style; cock ring buzzing and Cartman pounding into him from behind;
spreading his cheeks; fingers leaving indentions in his ass; muffling Kyle's cries into the mattress.
"Uh-huh..."
Kyle's face is on fire, his body stinging with sweat, with the stretch and buzz of the plug inside
him. Pre-cum sticks to his belly.
"What would you be doing if I was there?"
"Unnh..." Kyle groans. His forehead is sticking to the mattress, his hot, panting breath hitting his
face. He turns his head to the side. "Fucking myself on your cock..."
"Yeah, that's fucking right..." Kyle can imagine him spitting as he says it. "I'd be fucking you right
into that pillow. I'd be buried so deep inside you that my balls would be smacking against you but
that still wouldn't be enough... you'd be trying to impale yourself on my cock anyway because you
love it so much... you wish it was inside you right now, don't you?"
Kyle nods with a broken cry, thrusting harder into the pillow so he can better imagine it. He twists
his body, lifting one hip and gripping the pillow. He turns his head slightly, and ignores the long
line of drool that connects his lip to the mattress. He presses the pillow to his crotch and humps it
desperately.
"Unnh, I'm gonna cum..." he moans after a few more vigorous thrusts.
"Damn fucking right you are," Cartman gloats. "You're gonna cum thinking of my cock inside
you... you're gonna cum wishing you were grinding on it... riding it..." Cartman interrupts himself
with strained, anguished groans. "bouncing on it... like I know you've always wanted... you've
wanted me to fucking own you since the moment we met..."
Kyle frowns, confused, but doesn't let it distract him from his mission which, right now, is to cum
all over his pillow.
"But now I do own you..." Cartman growls. "Finally, I fucking have you and I can do whatever I
want with you... and now you're finally gonna cum thinking of me... only me..."
Cartman is always descriptive, but he sounds almost deranged now. Frenzied, and babbling, like
his train of thought has not only derailed but has burst into a fiery ball on the side of the tracks.
Kyle is no fit state to question him right now though. His balls are drawing tighter, and tighter, and

23. his whole body is clenching.
"Aaah!" he cries when he cums, ruining his pillow cover for tonight. His eyes roll back and his
body is shaking. He sobs as he continues to rut forlornly against the pillow. "Aah-ahh... "
Cartman growls again, and Kyle can hear him masturbating furiously behind him.
"F-f-fuck... yes... Kyle!" he cries. "Kyle!"
Kyle's stomach lurches into his throat and he feels like he may throw up when he hears Cartman
cry out his name. He rests his hand against the headboard for support, panting and shaking with
wide eyes and a mouth clamped shut. The room is spinning. He wishes he doesn't have to turn
around, doesn't have to look at Cartman's face and reckon with what Cartman may know.
Grimacing, he turns off the cock ring. He needs to calm down, needs to know how to best approach
this and he can't do that with the ring buzzing against his shaft, and the plug buzzing against his
prostate. He drops the soiled pillow, and slowly turns around, aching and tense. Cartman isn't
looking at him, just cleaning his cock with a broad, satisfied grin.
"That was so good..." he sighs. He's grinning when he looks up at Kyle, and he still seems none the
wiser. "You looked so fucking good..."
"What was that..." Kyle whispers. His mouth is too dry. He clears his throat. "Uh... what was that
name you called out?"
Cartman blinks, a tiny dent in his brow. He shakes his head and frowns, not looking at Kyle.
"Oh, nobody um..." he looks up, lips pursed as if he's considering whether or not he should share.
"Just this guy from my hometown. I had a crush on him for years." He smiles sheepishly. "I guess
you just kinda remind me of him."
Kyle nods, and hopes the mask hides his wide, startled eyes. Cartman had a crush on him? For
years? He supposes it makes sense with hindsight. But then again, so do a lot of things. Kyle
knows Cartman was obsessed with him. But he thought it was an obsession akin to his hatred for
Scott Tenorman, or ginger kids. He thought it was driven purely by a need to get back at Kyle for
whatever wrong Cartman felt he had done to him, or just a general disdain for him. But this made
the lingering stares, the shared smiles, the laughs at sleepovers, the impulsive hugs of comfort, or
gratitude all the more confusing. Especially when Kyle was so drawn to Cartman when Stan wasn't
around, when Cartman embraced his company with little resistance. Cartman wanted to hate Kyle,
and Kyle wanted, felt he should hate Cartman back. But it was a voice so small that Kyle could
drown it out with his castigating of Cartman's stupid, ignorant opinions, with his dirty jokes, with
his conversation that was always fun. Try as he might, he could never achieve simple, pure hatred,
not even with distance because it's years later, and here they are, reunited again and more
compatible than Kyle realised. When he thinks of the potential they have divorced from their
perceptions of each other, it depresses him a little and unsettles him even more.
Still, Cartman grins, oblivious, just wanting his money's worth.
"We're gonna have so much fun with that cock ring, aren't we?"
Kyle blinks, before smiling, determined to put this all behind him. It's easy to do when Cartman
insists Kyle keeps the cock ring and butt plug on for the rest of the hour, and he cums three more
times until both their dicks are sore and they're thoroughly spent. It's the first time since they
started doing this that Kyle is itching to shower afterwards. He doesn't even want to contemplate
the night's events when he's in there. He just wants to rid himself of that unsettling, guilty feeling

24. and watch it circle down the drain. Needless to say, that pillow is being ejected from his bed
tonight.
When he returns to his bedroom, he realises he left his laptop on in his haste. He's still logged in to
the site, and much to his dread, Cartman has messaged him.
"Hey, I want you to do something else for me."
Kyle sighs, sitting on the bed. He replies: "Ok. Just send me the link if you want me to order
something."
"No it's nothing like that," Cartman replies.
"I really want to meet up with you.
I can book a hotel for us this Saturday. You can wear your mask.
I just need to have you. I need to be able to touch you and fuck you for real."
Kyle is startled by the messages flooding in. It reminds him of how deranged Cartman sounded
earlier, babbling about owning Kyle, and how he's wanted him for years. The dread in his stomach
is yawning wide, and his mind is screaming at him what a bad idea this is.
"I'm not really a prostitute though. I don't have sex for money,"he replies, before adding, "I think
this would be crossing a line."
Ten seconds pass and Cartman still hasn't replied. But then he starts typing. Kyle's heart is
pounding, eyes fixed to the screen.
"I'll pay you 500 grand."
Kyle freezes, the laptop almost sliding off his lap and onto the floor. It's a life-changing amount.
"Really?" It's the only response Kyle can think of.
"Yeah. I know it's not what you're used to. I'm willing to pay that."
Cartman must be really fucking loaded to give away that much money without a thought, for just a
quick fuck in a hotel. And if that's the case, should Kyle really feel bad for accepting? It's a win-
win. Cartman gets what he wants, and so does Kyle. The only hitch is the added risk of Kyle's alter
ego being easily seen through in person. The screen, the distance between them, is a buffer
protecting them from the truth. What's protecting him when that buffer is lifted? His mask? It
seems like an inadequate shield.
Cartman replies before Kyle has even made up his mind. But it's the six words that destroy any
rationale, any inhibition.
"I can't stop thinking about you"
Kyle gulps, prickling all over with guilt, and excitement, and a gnawing hunger. He would be a liar
if he said he hasn't thought about Cartman every night, that he hasn't popped up in every daydream
Kyle has had on his commute, in a boring meeting, in the shower.
"I can't stop thinking about you either."
He can do this once. He does this once and he can be satisfied. It will all be over, and Cartman will

25. never have to know. He takes a deep, bracing breath and adds: "Ok, I'll be there."
Saturday arrives and Kyle is stepping out of an Uber and onto the street entrance of the fancy hotel
Cartman booked for them. The doormen's polite expressions crack a little with confusion as they
watch him step out of the car. Understandable, as he's had his mask on for the entire ride. He hoped
he could get away with maybe slipping it on discreetly in the elevator, but had awful visions of
running into Cartman in the lobby, bare-faced.
Kyle has been both dreading and looking forward to this evening all week. Every exchange they've
had since agreeing to meet up has felt bloated with anticipation, and whenever Cartman giddily
mentions it at the end of every session, Kyle has to both force a smile as well as smother the
excited butterflies in his stomach. He's seen and done a lot in his young life, but this feels like the
riskiest thing he has ever done. It's like putting your hand out to a tiger, and seeing how close you
can get before the tiger laps at your fingers in acceptance or rips your fucking arm off.
The strange looks continue as Kyle scurries across the lobby, and gets into the elevator. Luckily,
there are only two other people in the car with him and it's entirely deserted by the time he reaches
his floor. Cartman sent him all the details last night. It reminded Kyle just how real this all is and
kept him up. He settles himself now by reading the numbers on the doors, following them until he
reaches his desired destination.
He gives the door a knock, and Cartman answers with a drink in his hand. Kyle can't remember
him being this tall, can't remember there being this much of him. He rests his hand against the
doorframe, and uses his other hand to lift the tumbler of scotch to his lips. His eyes are a little
glassy, but Kyle doesn't think he's drunk. A grin spreads across his face.
"You made it."
Kyle doesn't reply for a couple of seconds, his throat suddenly shrinking.
"Yeah..." he croaks, before clearing his throat and trying again. It feels strange to use his raspy Val
voice in person. "Hi..."
Cartman chuckles. Kyle is glad he's a little nervous too, or at least recognises how unusual this is.
"Hi." He stands aside, and jerks his head towards the inside of the room. "Come in."
Kyle rubs his lips together and nods, hands instinctively slipping behind his back as he enters the
room. Nervous, childhood habit of his. He hopes it's something Cartman has forgotten. He looks
over his shoulder and sees him placing a Do Not Disturb sign on the door.
"Do you want a drink?" he asks when the door clicks shut. "Take whatever you want out of the
minibar."
Kyle crouches down to inspect the contents of the minibar. It's full of little bottles of wine and
beer. He wrinkles his nose. They don't really seem like drinks that will settle his fluttering stomach,
or calm his nerves sufficiently. He spies the bottle of scotch and another ostentatious tumbler on
the cabinet above and wordlessly pours himself a drink.
He can see Cartman approaching him out of the corner of his eye, smiling with an eyebrow arched.
"You like scotch?"
Kyle doesn't, and he's reminded of that when he takes an ill-advised gulp. His face creases

26. immediately, and he covers his mouth to smother a coughing fit.
"Not really," he croaks. "I just wanted something... harder..."
Kyle knows exactly how it sounds, and so does Cartman. His smile broadens into a wicked grin.
He's moving in.
"Are you gonna make everything you say tonight sound dirty?"
Kyle smirks, shrugs.
"If you want..."
Cartman steps as close to Kyle as he can get without their bodies being pressed flush together.
Kyle's breath hitches, and he hopes it's not noticeable. It feels like a kissing moment. One of the
many scenarios he's played through in his head this week. He has to plan for every eventuality. It is
very possible Cartman would want to kiss him, and this may be that moment. But something is
stopping them. It's like the air is electric, and if they touch at all they'll be reprimanded with
stinging, static shock. Kyle notices a duffel bag on a chair, and tries to put the failing moment out
of its misery.
"What's with the bag?"
Cartman blinks, clearly still lingering in the moment.
"Oh, they're just things I wanted us to use tonight."
Cartman picks the bag up and places it on the cabinet. When he opens it he pulls out a laptop, a
cock ring... and a green, ushanka hat pretty damn close to the one Kyle wore throughout his
childhood and into his teenage years. He freezes, and his trepidation must be obvious because
Cartman actually wrings the hat in his hands sheepishly.
"I wanted us to do some roleplaying."
Kyle nods, jaw pulled tight.
"Okay, so I want you to hear this hat," he explains, looking into Kyle's eyes. It sounds like his
breath is hitched too. "You're gonna call me 'Eric,' and I'm gonna call you, uh... 'Kyle.' We're gonna
pretend we're in your teenage bedroom. I want you to watch the video on the laptop and jerk off.
I'm gonna be watching from the closet. You're gonna jerk off until I come out."
"Alright." Kyle nods, stomach clenching. "I can do that."
Cartman smiles, and his shoulders soften.
"Great, and I want you to really be embarrassed, okay?" he says with a small grin. "I want you to
fight me a little, and like you're trying really hard not to be so turned on. Got it?"
"Got it."
Kyle thinks that Cartman's cheeks must be aching he's smiling so hard. His eyes are practically
sparkling.
"Clothes off. "
Kyle strips, the usual routine. He tries to look at the floor, but his eyes are drawn to Cartman,

27. hungry and exhilarated. He's rid himself of his shoes, his socks, his shirt, his belt. He kicks his
pants off his leg and stumbles, the first time he's done that since he started stripping for money.
Cartman catches hold of his arm before he loses his balance completely.
"Woah, careful..." he laughs.
When Kyle looks up, flushed, Cartman is staring at him with a soft smile. He has a lax grip on
Kyle's bicep, and the longer they stare, the more contemplative Cartman seems to become. His
tooth grazes his lip, and their breathing is shallow and terse. The air is humid between them.
Cartman then breaks the stare, and Kyle notices the swell at the front of his pants. He snatches the
cock ring out of his bag and drops to his knees in front of Kyle. He looks down, stares at the top of
Cartman's head and chokes in surprise as he tugs his boxers down, and places the cock ring around
the base of Kyle's half-hard dick. Just like when he saw Cartman for the first time on webcam, he
feels like he's having an out of body experience, paralysed by shock, and his mind isn't in a much
better position. He can't believe he's letting Cartman touch his dick. His fingers are warm, and the
metal ring is cool. It's not a vibrating one like before, but one that will most likely delay his
orgasm.
Once it's fitted Cartman stands up, and Kyle's eyes never leave him.
It's a strange coronation when Cartman places the hat on his head. It's so familiar that it should feel
comfortable, but instead it's just unnerving.
"I'm gonna go in the closet," Cartman announces, slightly breathless.
Kyle takes that as his cue to get on the bed, taking the laptop with him. He lies down, propping a
pillow up behind him and placing the laptop beside him. When he opens it up, he's immediately
greeted by footage of him and Cartman from a few days ago, when they first used the vibrating
cock ring and butt plug. His skin prickles with goosebumps when he considers that Cartman may
have saved more footage of them together. When the video starts, when he hears their moans, their
panting, their groans; can recall the vibrations against his prostate, racing up his dick; the friction
of his cock rubbing against the pillow, and when he hears Cartman's husky, goading words, it's not
difficult at all for Kyle to jerk off. His cock twitches and hardens in his hand, and he tries to
remember how he used to masturbate as a teenager. He was quiet and quick, the thought of
anybody hearing him, or catching him jerking off seemed like the most mortifying thing in the
world.
He chews his lip, muffling any moans and whimpers, and even though the images on the screen are
tantalising, he squeezes his eyes shut and dips his head back. His mouth falls open and instead of
groaning he takes in big, gasping breaths. The room is quiet, and it's easy to forget that Cartman is
hiding away and watching him. His skin now prickles with the more unsettling notion that
Cartman may have actually done this in their adolescence. He decides that's something he would
rather not know. His head lolls to the side, and he blinks his eyes open. He can see Cartman
peeking through the closet, obscured by shadow.
"Don't look..." he whispers.
Kyle turns his head away immediately, staring up at the ceiling and pumping at his rigid cock. His
eyes slip shut and his mouth drops open once more, before he's interrupted by the sound of
Cartman's laughter.
"Ha! What do we have here?"
Kyle stops what he's doing. He turns the video off and closes the laptop. Cartman is stalking

28. towards him with a maniacal, gloating grin that unnerves Kyle instantly.
"Kyle Broflovski watching gay porn!" he chuckles, glancing at his dick. "And I thought you had no
feeling at all down there..."
"What the fuck are you doing in my bedroom?" Kyle snaps, heat crawling up his neck, over his
face.
Cartman's face, however, seems to light up with approval.
"Well, I was looking for the headphones you stole from me but instead I found something much
more intriguing."
"Intriguing?" Kyle frowns. That familiar anxious impatience he felt whenever Cartman was about
to announce some evil plan is returning to him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It means, Kyle, that I have perfect blackmail fodder now." He lifts his chin and smirks, so proud
of himself. "I'm sure you wouldn't want this getting out to everybody else at school..."
"Don't you fucking dare!" Kyle fumes, sitting up. "I'll fucking... kill you before I let you do that!"
Cartman isn't scared. Amused, more than anything.
"And your little secret will be out before you get the chance to do that." He tilts his head, and it's
obvious he's pretending to ponder. "But maybe I can be persuaded to forget this ever happened..."
"What?" Kyle's face drops, and he grips the sheets below him. "How?"
"You'll just need to do me a little favour, Kyle." He grins, as giddy as he's been all week.
"Something I've been wanting for a long time."
Kyle's heart genuinely sinks. He knows what's coming.
"What is it?"
"I want you to suck my balls, Kyle."
Kyle is surprised he can say it without laughing.
"No."
It's his instinctive response. He knows, of course, that he will do it. He can't really back out if
Cartman is going to pay him five hundred thousand dollars. But he promised himself he never
would. He swore to Cartman he never would. But promises to yourself are the easiest to break, and
the Kyle he's pretending to be now would absolutely refuse to do this. He feels like he's betraying
him.
Cartman smiles, as if that's what he wanted to hear. He leans forward.
"What was that?"
"No!" Kyle exclaims. "That's disgusting, I'll never do that!"
Cartman takes it well. Of course he's taking it well though, because he knows that Kyle is going to
be on his knees with his balls in his mouth pretty soon.

29. "Fine." He shrugs. "Then maybe you can help me out with something else, Kyle. Who should I tell
first that you're a gay homosexual?" he asks with an evil smile. "Should I tell Kenny? Butters? I
could tell Bebe, that would be the best way of ensuring that everybody in school knows-"
"Okay, I'll do it," Kyle snaps.
"You will?"
"Yes," Kyle says through gritted teeth.
Cartman bites his lip, before leaning forward again.
"Say it," he demands, relishing the words.
Kyle closes his eyes, sighs deeply through his nose.
"I'll suck your balls."
Cartman blinks, feigns ignorance. He looks around the empty room.
"Uh, sorry, whose balls are you going to suck?"
"I'll suck your balls!" Kyle yells, before he realises what Cartman is waiting for. "Eric."
Cartman snorts, delighted.
"Too fucking right you will. Get over here."
Kyle shuffles reluctantly off the mattress.
"Crawl," Cartman commands, before he can take another step.
Kyle scowls, surely red from head to toe but he gets down on all fours and crawls over to him.
When he kneels in front of Cartman it feels like he's kneeling at the bottom of a skyscraper, a
shadow across his face and grin more wicked than ever.
"You should be this obedient more often," he says, patting his head. "It suits you."
"Let's just get this over with," Kyle mutters.
"Oh, not so fast, Kyle." Cartman chuckles. "I've waited a long time for this, and I want to savour
each and every second."
Kyle shudders at the familiar words, and watches as Cartman unbuttons his pants. He really should
consider getting into the cam guy profession. Kyle is getting harder each agonising second it takes
to unzip his fly. He sighs, and shifts a little on the floor.
"Getting impatient, Kyle?" he teases. "You really are hungry for balls, aren't you? Why don't you
take them out?"
Kyle glares up at him, but takes his dick and balls out his boxers anyway. Cartman holds his dick,
and Kyle just stares at the bulbous sac in front of him, clueless as to how to proceed. He closes his
eyes, takes a shaky breath and tries his hardest to close his mouth around them, take in as much as
he can. They’re warm, and musky, filling his mouth. He must look ridiculous, like a fucking
hamster. Cartman starts snickering, and he knows he does, indeed, look ridiculous. He closes his
eyes and sucks, not really knowing when he's supposed to stop. But he gets a good idea when

30. Cartman moans, and his warm, heavy cock slaps his face, rubbing against his cheek.
"That's it..." he murmurs, cock growing harder against Kyle's bulging cheek. "Look at you fucking
go, you dirty girl... you love gobbling my balls, don't you?"
Kyle tries to sound like he's objecting, but it's hard to convey objection with a muffled whimper.
Cartman's gravelly, eager words, his scent, his cock dribbling pre-cum onto his face is making his
already impossibly stiff cock ache even more. He grips Kyle's head, pushing his hat back and
revealing more of his hair, before burying his face in his crotch. Kyle makes more startled, muffled
noises and sucks faster. Cartman's cock is now rubbing against his mask, and his pre-cum is sure to
stain it.
He pulls Kyle away from his crotch when he seems to have had enough. Kyle is gasping for breath,
his jaw slack. Cartman is still gripping his hair through his hat, and looks down at him with some
warped, belittling affection.
"We should do this more often, Kyle," he says softly. "You're so good at it. Look how hard you've
made me..." To illustrate his point, he starts painting Kyle's face with his pre-cum; down his nose,
curving over his cheek, and above his lip. "You're gonna have to suck me off too if you want me
not to tell anyone."
Kyle's heart is racing. This is another scenario he's played out in his head this week, and one he is
more than prepared for. He pokes his tongue out and prods teasingly at the space between
Cartman's cock and balls. He shudders, and Kyle keeps his eyes on him as he drags his tongue up
the length of his dick.
"More." Cartman moans, strained. "Take it all in your mouth." Kyle can practically hear him
smirking. "It'll be good practice."
Kyle's hand takes over at the base of Cartman's cock. He closes his lips over the head, laving at it
and rubbing it against his tongue for a little while before he starts sucking Cartman off in earnest.
A choked-off moan escapes Cartman's throat, and he presses down on Kyle's head, demanding he
take more.
"Yeah, that's it... take it, you cock-hungry slut..."
Kyle lets Cartman shove his cock deeper into his mouth until he's fucking his throat. He gags with
every thrust, and he can feel drool crawling out of the corner of his mouth. He flies back off
Cartman's dick when he cums down his throat, landing on his ass and having a coughing fit on the
floor. Cartman is panting, flushed, and hazy above him but he still cracks up at the sight. He walks
around Kyle to sit on the bed.
"Did you swallow all of it?"
Kyle wants to reply he had no fucking choice, but he can't open his mouth without coughing. He
nods, eyes watering.
"Good boy." Cartman grins, tapping his knee. "Come sit here."
Kyle crawls over to him, kneeling between Cartman's legs. He stands up and regards him warily,
while Cartman rakes his gaze over him and ignores any wariness. He fits his hands at Kyle's waist
and pulls him closer, until Kyle's legs bump against the mattress.
"Sit."

31. Before Kyle can climb onto Cartman's lap, he's gripping the backs of his thighs and lifting them for
him, manoeuvring him like he's a stubborn marionette. Kyle huffs as he gets into a straddling
position, but enjoys the feeling of Cartman stroking the back of his thighs, staring up at him with
all the desire in the world.
"Such a sweet, little virgin slut. Haven't had your first kiss but you've sucked my big, meaty cock-"
"I've had my first kiss!"
Cartman arches a sceptical eyebrow.
"With a girl?" he shakes his head. "That doesn't count."
Kyle scowls, shifts in Cartman's lap and avoids his stare.
Cartman finds him, however, and stares at him hazily.
"You haven't kissed a boy, have you?" he asks, voice low.
Kyle shakes his head. He didn't kiss a guy until college.
Cartman cradles Kyle's jaw and brings their lips together. Their first kiss of the night. Soft, and
tender, and indulgent. Kyle doesn't need to pretend, his reactions are unadulterated. He holds his
breath, tenses like a cat with hackles raised, before melting into Cartman's kiss, lips fusing
together. He tilts his head, tongues meeting, and Kyle grips his hair, his shoulders, clinging to him
for dear life. Cartman grunts, pulling Kyle closer until his knees give away and his legs, arms,
entire body is wrapped around him. His cock is pressed flush against Cartman's belly, and Kyle ruts
against him to try to get some much needed relief.
Cartman tears his lips away from Kyle, beaming at him with sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks.
"Jesus, I never thought you'd be so fucking horny..." he kisses Kyle again. "One little taste of cock
and now you can't get enough, huh?"
Kyle bites Cartman's lip and growls.
"Fuck you..."
Cartman smacks his ass, squeezing his cheek.
"Attitude like that is a surefire way to expose your secret," he reprimands. "But if you ask me
nicely to pop your cherry..."
"Please fuck me..." Kyle moans, rutting desperately. "Eric, please fuck me... "
Cartman grins.
"That's better..."
He throws Kyle off his lap and onto the bed, turning him around so he's on all fours. He joins Kyle,
and Kyle can feel the mattress dip with his weight. Kyle tenses when he feels Cartman dragging his
cock down the crack of his ass.
"Yeah, obedience really fucking suits you, Kyle. You act so tough, but really you wanna just give
in and bend over for me..."

32. Kyle rolls his eyes, and growls again. He may want Cartman to fuck him more than anything else
in the world right now, but that doesn't mean he wants to stop putting up a fight.
"God damn, just fuck me already!" he snaps.
"Not so fast, Kyle. You may think you can handle my big, fat cock raw but we need to get you
prepped first. Except... I don't have any lube," Cartman says, feigning ignorance once more. "Do
you?"
"No..."
Cartman sighs sweetly.
"Oh well, I guess we're just gonna have to improvise."
Cartman climbs off the bed, and Kyle gasps and squirms when he feels hot breath against his
opening. Cartman snickers.
“Relax… you should be used to somebody sucking at your asshole…”
A hot ball of anger pushes into Kyle’s throat, and he grits his teeth, resisting the urge to kick
Cartman so hard in the chest that he loses breath. He kisses Kyle’s cheek, nibbling at the spot he
kissed and applying tiny pressure. The makings of a lovebite. His voice is gravelly.
“But I’m not gonna hurt you like those Apple dickheads did…”
Kyle convulses, mouth falling open in a high, sharp gasp when he feels Cartman’s tongue prodding
at his asshole. He whimpers, forehead pressed against the mattress, and thighs shaking either side
of Cartman's head as he slides his tongue in and out. He spreads his cheeks, and Kyle shudders at
Cartman's hot, panting breath against his hole. He then buries his face in his ass, fucking him fast
with his tongue. Kyle's sweaty body is sticking to the sheets, and moans and whimpers are pouring
out of his mouth. He’s been eaten out only once or twice and never really enjoyed it, mainly
because of the experience Cartman so insensitively had to bring up. Kyle hates to admit that
Cartman's made good with his promise. This feels fucking incredible. He rocks back against
Cartman's tongue, practically riding his face until he pulls out. He cries in frustration.
"You want me to keep going?" Cartman asks, shifting a little and reaching between Kyle's legs to
cup and fondle his balls.
Kyle's eyes roll back and he nods.
"Then beg for my cock..."
Kyle groans, anguished.
"Please... please, Eric, don't stop..." Kyle whimpers, as Cartman fondles his balls, prods at his
asshole with his tongue and occasionally nips at his cheeks. "Don't stop until my hole is ready for
your cock..." Kyle is scrambling for coherency. "I-I-I want you to pop my cherry! I need your cock
inside me, please..."
Cartman lets go of his balls, unceremoniously flipping him over and causing Kyle to let out a yelp.
He stands tall over Kyle, grinning, flushed, and panting, while Kyle feels embarrassed, and
vulnerable, and desperate for more. He shivers as Cartman rakes his gaze over him, it's as if his
dark eyes are responsible for making every hair on his body stand on end. When he’s done ogling
him, he sighs and drops to his knees. The rest of his body disappears behind the bed, only his

33. contemplative, calculating face is visible between Kyle’s legs.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Kyle…” he whispers, placing a kiss to Kyle’s slick thigh that makes
him twitch. Every brush of lips, stroke of fingers, every breath anywhere near his neglected,
swollen cock is wreaking havoc on his nerves.
Cartman doesn’t care, he continues to kiss his way down his thigh, branding his words into his
skin.
“You know why you’re so beautiful? Because you’re stubborn, aloof. Everything you do drives me
crazy, and you don’t ever acknowledge it. Even though you know what you’re doing. How could
you not? You’re the smartest person I know. But you hold it over me, you keep me awake, and
don’t let up. If you didn’t know the effect you have on me, you wouldn’t let me do all these things
to you, because you know that if you let me do what I want, I’ll keep your secret.”
Kyle doesn’t know if he’s supposed to respond, he’s just lying there with his chest heaving and his
heart pounding in his throat because the lines between white lie, and vivid reality are becoming
blurred. But when Cartman buries his tongue inside him once more, all rational thought flies out of
the window. He squeezes his eyes shut and cries out, body rocking to the rhythm of Cartman’s
tongue, his mind consumed with fucking himself on it. He grips the sheet and whines with every
propulsion.
Cartman pulls out, and Kyle turns his head and buries his face in the sheets to smother his
disappointed whimpers.
“But there’s so much more to this secret you’re keeping, and the most terrifying part of it to you is
that I drive you just as wild, you want me just as much. In fact, you want me more than both of us
ever realised. Look at you… I’ve touched you, kissed you, filled you up, and been inside you but
you still haven’t cum. You’re dying for a release, your body is screaming for it. So hard, so sore, so
wet…”
He dips his fingers into the hot, wet slit of Kyle's cock, and it's like Cartman has dipped his fingers
into his fucking sanity and swirled it around, short-circuiting his brain. His eyes squeeze shut, his
mouth opens wide in a silent howl and he writhes about in an intense, uncomfortable sort of
pleasure, keening to Cartman’s fingers. He then strokes and plays fingerpaints on Kyle’s cock,
coating him in pre-cum.
Their eyes meet, hazy, and dark, and Kyle gags when Cartman slides his fingers deep into his
mouth. He fucks his throat slowly, eyes never leaving him.
“No, it’s not enough yet…” Cartman continues. Kyle sucks the pre-cum off his fingers, eyes
drooping shut as he talks. “It won’t be enough until I’ve fucked those gifted brains out, consumed
you, possessed you, destroyed every last holdout that you can live without me, that you don’t need
me.”
Cartman rubs his fingers along Kyle’s gums, places them between his teeth and encourages Kyle to
bite down on them. Kyle really does feel like Cartman flipped some switch in his body when he
dipped his fingers inside his slit. All rationale, inhibition, or pride has been incinerated. All that
matters now is that he cums, in the next few seconds, minutes, or hours. The money pales in
comparison to that.
When Kyle bites down particularly hard, Cartman doesn't snatch his fingers away, he extracts them
gently, like he could tell it was coming. It's like he knows Kyle's every move because he's
reprogrammed Kyle to make him behave how he wants him to behave. It's disconcerting, sure, but