Through the Cracks

Even with his whole body fighting for escape, Butters could not compete with the pressure of his uncle's arm holding him down. It felt like the hand had ripped through his body, like a pin through a specimen in a bug collection. "Lemme go! I'll be good!"

"I know you will." Bud slicked his hand with Asstroslide, which made it easier to slip between Butters' closed legs. Along the way, Bud spread a generous layer of it for later. When he reached the boy's sensitive parts, he watched Butters' expression change in response to the new sensations.

Butters' movements slowed as he felt Bud coating his parts with the goo. "Nnnn. What're you doin' to my wiener?" Bud made no answer, but smiled down at Butters' discovery. "It's… it's all greasy." Butters rolled over, struggling harder to hide the organs from Bud's busy hands. The trouble was, he felt he was operating on a delay. Before he could adjust himself to keep his penis and balls hidden, Bud had shifted his attention to Butters' backside.

"This candy doesn't just taste good. It feels good, too." With a thumb and two fingers, he toyed with Butters' balls, stretching the young skin. His other hand had returned to Butters' ass, probing for the entrance. Butters began to pull away from the intruding fingers, but the heavy hand tightened around his balls, forcing Butters to whimper, but remain obedient. "I think I want some. You don't mind, do you?"

Hearing this, Butters could only imagine that Bud meant to lap it from the tube in his hand. Instead, Bud tossed it aside. "Aren't you gonna eat some candy?" Butters asked, discomfort coloring his voice.

"Sure I am. Just working up an appetite." With the hand on Butters' bottom, Bud pushed one finger inside. The intrusion was familiar. Butters was used to feeling fingers probing him there, when he was taking his medicine, or when the doctor was checking him… or that time in Bud's bathroom. This time, the movements were slower, more indulgent, like Bud was trying to memorize every feature of the child's insides. Time was a luxury Bud did not have in his bathroom at home, where Nellie could barge in at any moment to powder her nose. He continued to use his other hand to restrain Butters by his most sensitive area, making sure that the boy did not wiggle away from his touch.

Across the room and behind the door, Cartman's camera kept rolling. Now it's getting good. This might not have happened if you had done what I wanted, Butters. Through the lens, Cartman watched Bud hoist Butters into a tripod position. Face down, Butters lay partially on Bud's thigh, with his legs splayed. His noises were muffled by the comforter that surrounded his face, but Cartman could hear enough to salivate over Butters' pain.

The longer Cartman watched Butters writhe and listened to him cry, the more nauseated Cartman became. It was not unlike the time he ate an entire ultra-rich chocolate cake just so none of the other kids could have any. He succeeded in having his own way, even though it meant he spent the whole night with his arms around the toilet, puking his guts out. Victory was sweet, but it often ended up being too sweet. The fantasy was a good thing, but the reality was too much of a good thing. He tried to soothe the unrest in his belly by sitting down and leaning against the wall, and he still tried to watch. Gross, how many fingers is he gonna stick in there? Seriously. Oh, looks like he's going for the coup de gross. Oh. Jesus Christ!

Cartman recoiled at the reality of seeing Bud's tongue slither down the insides of Butters' thighs. This wasn't the first time Cartman had seen someone he knew in an intimate position. He couldn't say for certain how many times he had come across his mother naked in bed with a man, or perchance a woman, he had never met before. By now, he barely noticed it. The acts playing out here looked jarringly different. They're lopsided like somebody with one normal leg and one midget leg. The fuck. He had seen enough but couldn't look away.

Butters reared up in response to the tongue moving inside him, only to receive a warning squeeze on his balls, reminding him to stay close. After feeding on Butters' soft skin, Bud stood tall and stepped out of his boxers. He grasped Butters by the ankles and flipped him over so that he was face up again. Faced with his uncle towering over him, Butters stared. His wiener don't look like mine. He wanted to ask Bud why it looked that way, but he had another, more pressing question. Something was pressing on his hole, which was already tender from being manipulated by Bud's tongue and fingers. But this felt altogether different. Bud expected, and in fact, hoped, that Butters would respond to this with childlike surprise. That's what he came for, after all. Instead, Bud was taken aback when Butters asked, "Are you tryin' to play Lord of the Rings with me?"

"What?"

Butters explained, his voice strained with fear, "You know, Lord of the Rings. You play by stickin' your wiener in someone's butthole." He wrung his hands and added, "My friends like to play it together."

The information seemed to appeal to Bud, who was now working up a sweat. "Oh really? If any of your little friends were here, I'd love to have them play, too."

Petrified, Cartman was unable to lift a finger to do so much as stop the camera. He watched as frame after frame was recorded, and his eyes went wide as he watched. This was supposed to be awesome and funny. How come it isn't? All the times he had led Butters into trouble like a lamb to the slaughter flashed through his mind. Those memories usually made him smile as he cuddled up to Clyde Frog and fell asleep.

It wasn't all that long ago that he had parked himself on Butters' front lawn with a bucket of popcorn to watch the Stotches beat Butters black and blue. It had been deeply satisfying to see Butters' body taking the punishment that Cartman's mouth had earned. In a perverse way, it was incredibly intimate, a manufactured sacrifice. Cartman's own mother had never shown him the unconditional kindness that Butters did. Whether that sweet boy was unwilling to betray his friend or was afraid to, it meant that there was someone Cartman could count on to be on his side. But because that sounded too gay, he thought of it as having someone to fuck with.

Resilience was Butters' best quality. Even as Butters' bruises were still healing from his parents' fury, he was gluing a fake ballsack to his chin or sporting a "Hitler" in the name of friendship. The boy was like one of those clown punching bags; he could be beaten, but never broken. Being dragged to the edge of the bed by his ankles, he teetered on the edge of breaking now. "No! I don't wanna…" cried Butters, trying in vain to cover himself.

Here it is, Cartman marveled. Proof. That's what Kahl needs to see. In spite of this victory, the boy who could stomach anything wanted to turn away. He had his proof, but it wasn't sitting quite right. And cut. Stop it. Stop, goddammit! But it went on. And he still couldn't make himself move, or even speak. He didn't get to play puppet master anymore.

"Wait!" Butters begged. "Why don't you p-play with a grown-up, like you?" In spite of his overpowering fear, Butters infused a bit of warmth into a suggestion. "Maybe Aunt Nellie will try it."

Unblinking and unmoving, Cartman took interest. Confusing the hell out of him. Well played, Butters, well played.

There was a pause, and Bud answered, "Why would I play with her when I have you?" Bud gave himself several quick pumps and used one hand to push the tip of his erection against Butters' tightness and protests.

In that room, two boys were terrified into submission. They were too terrified to notice a third boy's shadow in the window or the sound of hands fiddling with the locked window. There was a shattering of glass, and the boy shot through the window like a caped cannonball. He landed crouching on the floor and pulled a jagged shard out of his hand. Looking up at the bed, he saw Bud, who glistened with a shower of glass particles. Underneath him lay Butters, whose fright dissipated upon recognizing the visitor. "King Mysterion!" While Bud roared at the sting of the glass, Butters crawled out of his grip.

Before Butters knew what was happening, Mysterion hoisted him over his shoulder, climbed onto the windowsill and growled, "Hang on tight." Butters had no time to respond. Mysterion grabbed onto the window frame and began to climb up the side of the house with Butters draped over his shoulder.