I-I have a new fandom. But you can't blame me, it's delicious. Next up will most definitely be Butters, because I'm a faggot and he's a faggot and it'll just be a huge faggot party.
A tribute my jewish heritage. Fuck you, Judaism, your Matzah is disgusting. Enjoy your rape.
"N-No way in hell, you goddamn fat bastard!"
Kyle was scared, and he would be damned if he admitted it. But in his situation, he felt as if he had every right. Gun to his head and bleeding profusely from Cartman's knife to his arm, Kyle was rightfully scared shitless. It was a slow creeping terror, taking its time to worm its way up his body by the simple fact that it was- Cartman. Cartman had always terrorized him, or at least tried to. But this wasn't the same. They weren't children anymore. Kyle couldn't just hit him and have him run crying home. No, now, he was a threat. A legitimate, two hundred seventy pound threat of power.
Yes, Kyle was scared. Very, very, very scared as blood dripped down his white dress shirt and onto the grass beneath them, Cartman using his weight to pin him down onto the ground. It was Passover, his family having a small seder this year, and he had simply stepped outside to 'let in Elijah' for Ike, who was still young enough to believe in such things, when he was grabbed by the front of his shirt and yanked off his back doorstep. A gag was tied around his mouth to keep him from screaming as Cartman hit him hard over the back of the head, making his head swim so that he couldn't see where he was dragging him.
He didn't know how long he had been knocked out, everything being so fuzzy, but he sure as hell did know when he woke up, freezing in the chilling Colorado night air. He had started thrashing, and that was when Cartman had taken out his knife, threatening him with it, but later telling him that if he complied, he'd cut his gag. Kyle agreed, and he breathed deeply when it was cut. However, when he had lunged at him to seek his revenge, he had forgotten about the knife, and Cartman slashed his arm without a second though. Kyle reeled back and howled, the pain over whelming.
That seemed to not have been part of Cartman's plan, to actually cut him, and he needed to shut him up, render him silent and forcibly compliant, as before. Smiling as Kyle lay bleeding at his feet, he had taken out Miriam's cup from his coat, and poured a small amount of a nameless liquid from a file in his pocket into it. Kyle was too dazed to ask how he had stolen Miriam's cup from his family's seder table.
"Kahl, either you drink it or I splatter your brains all over the snow, and dump your body in a bank so that frostbite covers up any evidence." The gun had surprised him when he had originally pulled it out. When had he acquired so many weapons? Besides, of course, the ones when they were younger.
"N-No." His vision was starting to swim, the blood loss starting to take effect.
Cartman growled at his disobedience before grabbing his chin and yanking his mouth open, forcing him to drink. Kyle sputtered, the stuff tasting vile, angry at the fact that he had desecrated yet another piece of Judaic culture.
"Y-You asshole…" Kyle's heart beat fast as he clutched his arm, hissing in pain, vision growing foggy and unsteady.
"L'Chaim to you to, Kahl." Cartman smirked, and patted his head, ripping off his green ushanka .
Groggily spewing out a string of curses, Kyle fainted, unsure whether or not it was from the blood loss, or the drug that warmed his entire body from the inside out.
The first thing that Kyle was aware of was humming. A deep humming of a familiar tune, Mah Nishtanah. But- why? Wasn't seder over? Kyle could distinctly remember finishing and going to bed, so who was singing?
Rage pooled in Kyle's chest as he blinked his eyes open, glaring at Cartman across the unfamiliar room as he moved back and forth, making something that he couldn't see. Thrashing, Kyle growled when he felt himself restrained. To a bed. Of course. Heat rose on his face.
"Shebechol haleylos anu ochlim chametz umatzoh, Halaylah hazeh kulo matzoh, this night is unlike no others, we eat only matzah." Cartman slowly started to sing out loud, butchering the Hebrew, and angering Kyle farther.
"What the hell did you do to me, fatass!? Cut it out!" He grit his teeth, trying to lean his head up to see what it was Cartman was fiddling with.
"And tonight we eat only bitter herbs~" His singing got louder, as if to drown out Kyle's screams and protests. "That on other nights we do not dip even once, on this night we dip twice. Halailah hazeh shetei pe'amim."
Suddenly, Cartman spun around, and Kyle kept quiet, staring straight back at him, gulping, and seeing what was in his hands.
"Shebechol haleylos, that on this night, Kyle will pay."
Kyle felt uneasy, and began to feel woozy, his head swimming (from the drug?), and pain suddenly shooting through his arm from where he had been cut. Looking down at it, he saw that it had been bandaged and his white shirt had been replaced. He felt suddenly very vulnerable, and less angry.
"What?" He said, almost in a whisper as he watched Cartman walk slowly towards him.
"You should know Mah Nishtanah better then anyone else, Kahl. Or at least, better then anyone else here, you filthy goddamn JEW." The last word was stressed, and Kyle saw Cartman's hands tighten on the bowl of liquid.
"That's not- That's not what I meant and you fucking know it!" His voice was shrill, screeching as Cartman reached his side. He hated this, laying there, vulnerable. Beneath Cartman.
"Oh? What, then?" A permenant smile was plastered on Cartman's face. So smug.
Fuming, Kyle resumed. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING AND WHERE THE FUCK AM I!?"
Such a wicked smile like Cartman's should not have been able to exist on any human's face. Knowing this, Carman flaunted it, and his power.
"Well, Kahl, I just thought we'd have a little seder of our own, a Kahl seder." More of that horrible smile, as Cartman looked down upon him. "And you're in my basement, obviously, you stupid Jew scum."
"How, wouldn't your mother hear me scream, fatass, or is she out making her vag get even bigger?"
Kyle knew exactly how to push his buttons.
And it worked.
Before he even had time to blink, Cartman was on him, pounding his stomach in. The force behind his blows was incredible, his bulk not just fat, but muscle, as well.
"Don't you DARE," Cartman screamed, punching him in the face, "EVER. TALK ABOUT MY MOM LIKE THAT."
Continuing to wail on him, Kyle choked, not begging him to stop or crying out. He wouldn't give him that sort of satisfaction. It was just pain, after all. Simple pain, the easiest kind. Physical pain. He would survive this without crying.
Eventually, Cartman stopped, breathing heavily, and glaring down at him. Kyle coughed, bits of blood on his face where Cartman's nails had broken his skin. He himself breathed heavily as well, breaths coming in and out unevenly.
"Now…" The vastly larger boy said, slowly, standing up off of the bed and picking up the bowl that he had dropped, "Let's start the Haggadah, shall we?" Ever bit of Hebrew he spoke was filled with malice.
"Why…" Kyle managed, again coughing, and wishing he could wipe his face off, feeling the ropes binding his arms.
For a while, Cartman seemed to ponder this, before expressing his reason as if it was the most simple answer in the world. "Because Passover is the most sacred Jewish holiday. I just thought that it would be appropriate, now, to break you down."
That feeling of terror started to rise up in Kyle's chest again. When Cartman made a threat, it wasn't to be taken lightly. At least his parents weren't being fed to him in chili. …Yet.
Silence, and then Cartman was the first one to speak. "So, Kahl, do you know the first part of the seder?"
It was an innocent question, no need to not reply. "…Karpas, dipped in salt water."
"That's right, sweetheart." Cartman mocked him, sloshing the bowl of liquid. "So let's see what I have to represent the suffering of the Jewish people for my wonderful Kahl seder…"
Kyle's heart lodged itself in his throat when Cartman suddenly grabbed him and flipped him over, yanking off the bandages from his arm and throwing the bowl of liquid onto his injured arm. The identity of the liquid became suddenly clear when it immediately burned upon contact. Vinegar and salt.
Unable to help it, Kyle screamed from the intense pain, wrenching away and shrieking uncontrollably, giving Cartman exactly what he wanted. But oh god it hurt. It hurt so bad. It was a palpable sort of pain, hard, and fierce, taking him over all at once instead of a sharp shooting sensation. It dunked his whole body in flames, originating near his shoulder, as he felt the vinegar sink into his wound and into his blood stream, mixing with his tissue and muscle, invading his body. Violated.
"Yes…" He could hear Cartman's voice above him as he writhed, twitching and screaming. "That's it, Kahl, suffer like your filthy ancestors did. The Egyptians had the right idea, you know."
"F-Fuck you." The words were forced out, the feeling unnatural, unused to anything other then screaming as if he had been born to do it.
"Perhaps." Cartman said, drawling out the word.
He was left panting as the burnet left his side to shuffle over to the table once again and fuss with something unknown to him. The humming resumed, and yet another piece of Judaic culture was lit aflame in the neo-Nazi's possession.
"Day-dayenu, Day-dayenu, Ilu harag et b'choreihem, Dayenu, it would have been enough!"
And then, a pause.
"Tell me, Kahl, you're the first born, aren't you?" His back remained turned to him, and Kyle snapped out of his haze of pain.
"You're as stupid as you are fat; obviously." He muttered, leaning his head to the side.
Cartman, however, chose to let that insult slide. "Too bad this is now, and not then. I would have enjoyed seeing you fed to the crocodiles."
Kyle fumed, the pain dying down just enough to resume screaming. "YOU MOTHER FUCKER, I'VE HAD IT, LET ME GO RIGHT NOW, RIGHT NOW! YOU BASTARD, JUST WAIT UNTIL STAN HEARS ABOUT THI-"
"Oh, Stan?" Suddenly, Cartman swiveled to face him. "Oh, no no no no, Kahl, Stan won't be hearing about this."
"And why the fuck not."
Kyle narrowed his eyes as Cartman resumed grinning. This entire situation had started to make him question Cartman's true motive. He knew he hated him and Judaism, but there had to be something else to motivate him, suddenly, to take such drastic actions to punish him.
"Because it's time for little Kahl to eat his Charoset. My special ingredient? Barbiturate." Reaching behind him, Cartman picked up a vile and emptied it onto a plate of what looked like poorly made Charoset. Too much fruit.
"Barbiturate? The finest memory loss drug out there. We wouldn't want you running off and telling our friends about what I'm going to do to you, now would we?"
His eyes were locked on the plate of fruit and nut mix, blood rushing cold and heart beating faster with every passing second. He couldn't be serious. …Could he? Nobody fucked with Eric Cartman, and Cartman didn't lie when it came to things that aided in his favor. And Kyle wanted to survive this alive. His fingers twitched as the rope chaffed his wrists.
"What," he said, voice barely a whisper, "are you going to do to me?"
"Well, now, that would just take the fun out of it if I told you, wouldn't it?" Another smile.
Kyle struggled in his bonds when Cartman once again began walking back to him. This was too surreal. This couldn't be happening. He should be back home, with his family, singing the songs that Cartman had destroyed. Not here, not about to be- 'whatever Cartman planned on doing to him'd.
"Open wide, little Jew." Cartman sang as he reached his side, sitting on the edge of the bed next to him. The bed squeaked and caved in upon his weight immensely, making Kyle slide next to him, their bodies touching.
"Fuck you." Kyle spat out, grinding his teeth together and locking his jaw. He wouldn't give into this, not even if his very life depended on it.
Cartman sighed in fake pity, and set the bowl onto the bedside table. "Fine, the hard way it is."
Looking as if Kyle had inconvenienced him, Cartman placed his hands together and cracked his knuckles. Taking a sidelong glance down at him, he sighed before suddenly whirling on him, punching him dead straight on the stomach. Kyle's eyes widened, the breath being knocked right out of him. Pain shot throughout his body, though not as badly as the Karpas had done to him.
Winded, Kyle gasped for breath. Seeing the fat boy smile, Kyle knew then that he had played right into his hands. Or, well, fist.
"Say 'ah'." Cartman said, cooing at him before shoveling the Charoset into his mouth.
Kyle tried to spit it out, but Cartman wouldn't allow it, and gripped his chin with his hand, keeping his mouth closed shut. Trying to bite his hand was the wrong idea. Looking unamused, Cartman leaned over him, and kissed him on the lips.
There were a million thoughts racing through his head at the motion. Wh-what- why- But most importantly, he couldn't breathe. Ignoring the fact that Cartman was kissing him, Kyle suddenly realized that his lungs were depleting very quickly. Forced from desperation, Kyle quickly chewed as he felt Cartman smile on his lips.
Feeling Kyle chew and swallow, Cartman broke away, wiping his mouth off on the back of his hand. Kyle gulped air into his lungs, coughing and wheezing.
"Disgusting. You taste like Kosher."
"W-What the hell is wrong with you!?" Kyle inwardly condemned himself for stuttering. "Why did you- did you- just stay the fuck away from me!"
"Goddamnit, you still DON'T. GET. IT!" Cartman lunged at him, his hands around his neck, squeezing as hard as he could. "I'M SICK OF YOUR GODDAMN JEW FAMILY PRACTICING YOUR GODDAMN JEW HOLIDAYS. YOU FILTHY- I HATE YOU SO MUCH, AND I HATE PASSOVER EVEN MORE, IT REMINDS ME THAT YOUR DISGUSTING PEOPLE SURVIVED TO FUCK UP THE WORLD. SO I'M GOING TO MAKE IT SO YOU NEVER. PRACTICE. AGAIN."
Kyle gasped for breathe, his eyes bulging as Cartman's hands squeezed harder. His vision was going hazy, like a tv on static. Cartman grinned manically above him. Against his leg, Kyle felt something hard, and if his mind wasn't gone enough, he would have felt sick. Instead, though, instinct kicked in. Fight or flight. Kyle needed air. But he couldn't fight with his arms restrained, and he couldn't run, underneath Cartman's girth. The only thing left to do was-
Suddenly the pressure was gone, and Kyle once again gasped for air. Beautiful, wonderful air that cleared up his vision and rushed through his capillaries, oxygenating his blood as his lungs expanded. For the thousandth time that night, Kyle choked, his abused trachea burning with every life-sustaining breath.
Above him, Cartman panted. "There," he said, also breathing heavily from what looked like excitement, "that was your Maror. Bitter, wasn't it?"
Kyle said nothing, and the fat boy didn't expect him to.
"You're disgusting." After a while of breathing, Kyle was able to resume hatred. "You fat fuck, you're jealous. You're jealous of my family, our ability to be happy together. You're jealous of my family, because all you have is a whore of a mother, who you don't even treat right."
"Mmm, shallow threats, Kahl." But deep down, they both knew that Kyle had hit his mark dead on. "But for now, let's move on to the two most important parts of seder, my favorite parts."
Kyle wanted to beg. He wanted to beg very badly, to end it, to make it stop, because the pain in his arm continued to pierce his senses, and somehow, he was able to tell that what came next would be too horrible to ever be able to dream up. But he wouldn't. Kyle would never beg for the fat ass, never. Not ever. Not even if his life depended on it. But his pride? Kyle questioned that when he watched Cartman pull out his already hard dick.
"Z'Roa. Eat it, Kahl, like the filthy little Jewslut you are."
The sight was disgusting. Kyle wasn't gay, and the last thing he wanted was to be presented with Cartman's dick in his face. Heat creped across his face. This was wrong. So very, very wrong. He felt as if he could throw up. He knew what Cartman wanted.
"H-HELL no!" Kyle screamed, thrashing again. "You fat freak! You disgusting pig! You faggo-"
But he was silenced. With the very thing he denied. Eyes widening, Kyle gagged as he felt Cartman grab his jaw and thrust into his mouth. At that moment, Kyle felt as if he could throw up from disgust.
"God yesss," Cartman moaned, grabbing Kyle's head and thrusting into his mouth, "Oh Kyle, you dirty girl… I've waited so long for this."
Kyle gagged again when the tip hit the back of his throat. Almost as if Cartman could read his mind, he punched him in the throat, keeping him from biting. Grinning manically, Cartman took advantage of Kyle's stupor and grabbed his head, fucking his mouth as hard as he could. Cartman moaned, and Kyle felt his balls hit his chin.
"I've waited," Cartman panted, "so long for this. G-God I knew you'd be good at this. So who else have you blown? Stan? Kenny?"
Kyle said nothing, could say nothing, could only squeeze his eyes shut and pray for it to be over. But it wasn't as if god was listening. God never listened. Not for him, not for any other Jew, and not for anyone else but Eric Cartman. Eric Cartman had prayed for years to enact this revenge, and he was the only one whose please went heard.
But when he felt a slimy feeling trickled down his throat, there was nothing he could do. Nothing at all. Because when Cartman began moaning insesively and he doubled over Kyle's head, there was nothing he could do to keep Cartman from cumming down his throat.
He thrust repeatedly, gripping his hair, before pulling out of his mouth and pumping himself, the last bit of it splattering over his face. Cartman closed his eyes, and fell back, leaning on Kyle's legs, which hurt under his weight. He panted, and began laughing.
Kyle remained silent. There was nothing to say. The cum on his face dribbled down his chin, or at least, the part of it that didn't land in his hair. He was humiliated, violated, and he couldn't tell. He could never tell. Not only because of the drug that Cartman had fed him, but- what kind of man was forced to give a blowjob? He couldn't have people thinking he was gay. He couldn't tell the police. Not the police, not anybody. Never. Nobody could know. Hopefully, he would truly be able to forget it…
"Stay away from me…" Kyle's voice was a whisper, barely able to be choked out. "Stay- away from me…" The drug was starting to take affect. He could feel it in his system, washing out his conscious and replacing it with a hazy lethargy. His vision swam, and everything ran together.
"But why is that, Kahl? We still have one last part of seder left." Cartman smiled, and scooted closer to him, laying on his side and gripping his chin, turning his head to face him. He looked him in the eyes, and refused to show the humiliation he was undergoing. Kyle noticed discreetly that Cartman was beginning to become hard again as he twirled his finger in the cum on his face. "So tell me, what is it?"
Kyle refused to speak.
"Tell me, Kahl."
"Tell me, or next year, this will happen to Ike."
"…Beitzah. Festival sacrifice." A rush of blood went to his head in a whirring sound. He could guess what came next, but he didn't want to. But he knew, anyway. Inside, he knew.
"That's right, Kahl." Cartman's voice was soft, and he reached out to him, stroking his hair. He toyed with a curl. This Cartman was a thousand times more terrifying then the Cartman who had forced him to suck his dick. A quite Cartman was a scheming Cartman.
"So. Let's see what we have planned."
Reflecting on it, Kyle was grateful. He was grateful that his mind had been too foggy to truly comprehend Cartman pulling his pants down. Daiyenu. He was grateful that Cartman finger fucked him first, stretched him out even though Kyle gave in and cried. Daiyenu. He was grateful that Cartman allowed him to close his eyes when he first positioned his erection in him. Daiyenu.
It would have been enough.
And as he rocked into him, moaning and grunting as the bed made the same noises, Kyle only praised god. Praised god because that was all he had left. Praised god for keeping him alive when Cartman's hands reached around his neck once again, strangling him as Kyle cried and cried. Because eventually Cartman let go, once again, to resume fucking him. It hurt. It hurt very badly. He was bleeding. He was crying. He was violated over and over. The moment Cartman would cum inside him, he would pull out and begin pumping his dick for another round.
'Beautiful. Nothing better then a bleeding Jew. You dirty, dirty girl…'
Eventually, however, Cartman tired. He tired of thrusting his hips against him, and grabbed Kyle's own erection in his hand. His face heat up, and from the haziness of the drug, Kyle moaned as he came over himself, Cartman following suit. And again, he cried.
Cartman glared down at him before blowing a kiss and sitting up off the bed where Kyle lay, blood and cum dripping out of him, and sobbing harshly, the sheets stained red.
"L'shanah haba'ah b'Yerushalayim, next year in Jerusalem! Happy Passover, Kyle!"
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