A/N Hello~ This would be the second full-length South Park fic I've written that you just opened up, and somehow it manages to have abusive Creek once again. I guess it's just a theme of mine? XD In any case, here you go. The first few chapters are mostly, well, smut scenes (you could say that this fic opens with a bang... quite literally), but later on the stuff gets a lot more deep, I can promise you that. As stated in the summary, this story will eventually involve Creek, Crenny, and Twenny, to various degrees. I already have a completed copy of it saved, and I can confirm that I'll be uploading once a week, on Saturdays, most likely. There are fifteen chapters in total, just so that you know what's coming. And I suppose that would be all. Well, then, please review/alert (I won't ask you to favorite, though I would love that, of course :D), and enjoy le story~!

Rated M for explicit sexual scenes, coarse language, violence, and drug references

Disclaimer I don't own South Park or any associated characters, events, etc.


ONE

Even when I walk in and see Tweek shivering on the bed, Craig smirking and standing guard a few feet away, I haven't quite processed that I'm in deep shit.

Wait, let's rewind a bit.

I hadn't intended for this night to be anything particularly special. Well, it was a Friday, which meant that even the goody-goody girls at school who couldn't pull weekday all-nighters would be available. That was good. Of course, they always needed persuasion in the form of a few beers, which I couldn't necessarily afford… but only a few. They're so unadjusted, it's pathetic. Still, virginities are few and far between now, and I like collecting them. Being screwed is something you can't take back. I keep a tally of the ones I've done. Think it's up to twenty-seven in our grade alone. The day I've ruined innocence as many times as I've died will be a celebrated one in South Park, possibly used to throw the ratio even more off-balance.

But I digress.

Friday night is a good night, beaten only by Saturday (though carry-over bashes that go through both utterly dominate). Meaning that I wasn't horribly eager to have mine taken away from me. But when you get a text from Craig Tucker saying Come to Tweek's, I've got a treat for you, you can't exactly be expected to ignore it. I don't know Craig well, but he knows what I'm into, and unlike with someone such as, say, Butters Stotch, if Craig has a treat he doesn't mean Hawaiian Fruit popsicles. The location he was indicating had to be promising, too. Tweek was someone I'd never gone for before. Not Craig, either, in fact. Stan and Kyle, sure, a couple of times. A casual thing. Every girl there was to be had in the grade, of course. That damned fat-ass Cartman once, I'll admit, but I blame the alcohol. Butters—well, you can't watch the guy lick and slurp a popsicle forever without going in for it. I do guys. Yeah. Never anything emotional with them—never anything emotional with anyone, of course, but what I'm trying to say is that I'm not a fucking fag. Dudes can do things girls can't. And vice versa. I'm well-learned in that area, and spreading things out is my forte. I know the most sensitive part of Wendy's clit as well as I know Stan's precise climatic groan, and they're still dating. It doesn't mean anything, not really.

So I got this text, and I wasn't just going to leave it. Come on, who could? Resulting in my being here now, having just walked through Tweek's open door—his house is empty—and up the stairs to this room, his bedroom. To see his trembling form curled up against the bedframe, watching me with dark-shadowed, frantic eyes, his shirt gone but loose pants still in place.

Delicious.

I can tell that my cerulean-blue eyes are glinting under the orange hood that I keep pulled over my head, because Tweek's expression only turns more horrified. A sure guarantee that I look my best—best, for me, is pretty much horny. Nothing much is happening down there, not yet, but I can tell it's only a matter of time. I nip at the edge of my lip, kneading the flesh between my hard, sharp white teeth before releasing it and running the tip of my tongue along the small wound. I'm taunting him, and Craig, too. Craig, who doesn't look too bad himself, considering. His eyes, a darker blue than my own, are practically glowing, and I can tell that he's even more in his element right now than I am. I wonder briefly if he's considering going for a threesome. Probably not. He seems more like the type to want somebody all to himself at once. But he also seems remarkably unlikely to just let me have an even go at Tweek. No, he probably intends to get his way with both of us before the night is over, which doesn't give me much cause to complain, though I do have to marvel at the guy's stamina in that case. We're at the Tweaks' house, so energy for me shouldn't be an issue. Drugs are good, but really, caffeine has something special to it. And coffee tastes really fucking good. Seriously, I haven't encountered many things that great in my life. Well, except for sex. And weed. But… whatever.

Anyways, I wouldn't have expected Craig to be up for something like this. Still, I can see him sizing me up, and it starts a light prickling down in the Netherlands. From what I've heard, he's not too terrible, himself. And Tweek… well, I've always had a thing for blondes. Though the muscular body of his captor is easily more appealing than his sticklike one. Seems that I'll be getting a little of everything this time around. Sweet. Well, everything save clit, but that's not too painful. I'd had some Red last night, so I'm as close to satisfied as I can be in that area.

Overall, things are looking good.

I let out a low murmur of appreciation towards this fact, and Craig's face twitches in frustration. "Take that damn thing off!" he hisses, lunging forward. His fingers grip the zipper of my parka and yank it down, so that the front opens and the hood falls down onto my shoulders, fully revealing my face.

"Ah—godfuckingdammit!" I hiss in frustration, lifting a hand to halfheartedly cover my nose and mouth. I'm not used to being so… exposed. Well, until it's time for such a thing, that is. Which, I remind myself, it probably will be quite soon. "What was that for?" I demand, taking a couple of steps backwards until I can feel the door handle digging into the back of my ribs.

"So you can speak and we can understand you?" Craig spits. His deep blue eyes are bright with an odd sort of fevered anger, something that I'm not used to seeing on him. He's always dark and cool, a tall shadow that lingers around the edges of the parking lot after school, smoke whispering out from his lips, slanting dangerous glares at anyone who approaches him—save Tweek, whom he always has one arm draped loosely, almost carelessly around the skinny shoulders of. But this—it's a new side of him, fiery and furious. I can't help but wonder if this is the Craig that Tweek is used to.

I tilt my chin up slightly, letting my hands drop to my sides. A slight whimper comes from the direction of the bed, where the blonde sits in a huddled heap, his shadowed eyes large and bloodshot. They stare frantically at me, and I force myself to look away from the pathetic sight. "Well?" I question. "What's going on here?"

My voice, relatively calm, appears to be too much for Tweek, who tumbles down from the bed and skitters across the floor until he's beside me. He reaches out and wraps one emaciated hand around my dangling wrist, looking up at me like a starving slave begging his master for another serving of gruel. "D-don't leave me alone with him!" he gasps raggedly, tears pooling in his eyes. "Please save me… t-take me h-home with you!"

It's alarming, and a bit revolting, too. I can't fight the grimace of disgust that spreads across my face, even as pity sickens my stomach. Tweek's terrified of Craig, terrified beyond his usual state of hyperactive anxiety. I never noticed this at school, when I bothered to attend… but, then again, these two were one of the last duos that I would care to pay attention to. "Dude," I mumble uncertainly. "I won't…" The words come out of my mouth automatically, a promise that I can't make. There's no way that I can take Tweek home with me. I'm not going to expose him to my parents and their drunken fights and rages; it's bad enough that poor Karen has to deal with them… besides, I don't see why this fucker would be worth my time, in the first place. If he hooked up with a rapist, that's his problem, not mine.

"The fuck are you doing?" One of Craig's black Vans shoots out, the dirty-toed shoe colliding with Tweek's shin bone and eliciting a squeaky yelp. I flinch at the noise. It sounds animal, like a wounded puppy. The taller boy's only reaction is a darkly smooth hunter's grin that, I won't deny, chills me to the bone marrow. He actually doesn't give a shit what happens to the person who's meant to be his boyfriend. And I certainly know rough sex—to a rather high degree, if I do so flatter myself—but this remains rather… disturbing.

"What's wrong with you?" I ask simply.

"W-with who?" Tweek whispers. His grip on my hand is iron-tight, a surprising amount of strength for someone in his position.

"…Both of you." It's true; I can't exactly attribute the freakishness of the situation here to a single one of them. It seems that both have been contributing to some degree. "No one's told me what the fuck's going on." Which is also honest enough. Craig's text couldn't really have been less specific. I actually wasn't expecting Tweek at all. Bebe or Butters, maybe, but not Tweek.

"H-he raped me!" Tweek gasps eagerly, seemingly all too willing to confess their history now that I'm welcoming it. "He abused me, and h-he used me as a toy… he hurts me! I loved him after it all, but now… now I'm giving up!" The glare that he shoves at Craig is absolutely sad, whimpering and shaky, especially when a bored eye roll is returned.

"Shut the fuck up," Craig grumbles, flicking his middle finger casually up in the sniveling blonde's direction.

"Oh… okay." I'm not quite sure where I stand here, yet, and compromise with my next words. "You raped him?" I direct at Craig, seeking clarification.

"Well," he drawls, "I wouldn't call it rape, per se." The sentence ends in a sarcastic flair.

"What was it?" I prompt.

"It was rape!" Tweek squeals indignantly. His voice scratches in his throat, and it strikes me that it's probably a bit worn from… screaming. Just how often has Craig been using him? I can't help but wonder, though the answer probably isn't one that I want to hear.

"Well." The dark-haired boy shrugs boldly. "I guess." He says the words so lightly, like he doesn't care at all, and I wonder for a moment what it must be like in his mind, how he can stand to execute such cruel actions, seemingly without so much as flinching.

"Okay…" My mind is whirring, somehow trying to find a way to get Tweek out. I don't know why, but suddenly, I don't want him to get hurt anymore. He's had enough. Maybe it's that something in those frantic green eyes, but the idea of abandoning him to Craig's twisted desires is suddenly awful.

"What?" Craig interjects angrily.

"…Why are you keeping him here, then? Why are you here at all?"

His eyes gleam dangerously, and I know that he's regretting asking me to come. I'm obviously not shaping up to be as much fun as he was anticipating, what with my apparent defense of Tweek and all. "Because," he snarls, and for a moment, the shine of his navy irises combined with the glint of his teeth in the low lighting gives an impression of genuine insanity. "I was bored. I want to play with my toy." His head tilts slightly. "Why shouldn't I?"

"…Let him go?" I ask impulsively, already knowing what his response will be before the words are out of my mouth. Craig has no reason to release Tweek, none at all.

"Why?"

"Because I want you to." It's a ridiculous reason, and I know it as well as he. Craig couldn't be less concerned with my desires, though, apparently, he has to opposition to entertaining me with his sex slave. And possibly himself, as well, though I'm not entirely certain whether or not he meant for things to be going three ways.

"C'mon, Ken," he snorts in disbelief. "I know you're on my side here."

I wasn't aware that there were 'sides.' I can already tell that this is turning into more than I anticipated, and wish that I could take back coming at all. Of course, then Tweek would be alone… but all the better, I think to myself venomously. What I don't know won't hurt me. This stupid… guilt, caring, whatever isn't my fault. I wish that I had the fucking courage to just leave him.

"So," Craig continues, "go on. You know his body is cute. You know you're just dying to play with it…"

I'll confess that I'm becoming just a bit tempted. Maybe my random burst of heroic shit is, well, just that—shit. Maybe it doesn't have any significance and can be held at bay if I just try to ignore it. And yet…

"Yes, but… no," I insist. "I can't… not this time…" It wouldn't be right. Hell, why am I thinking these things? They don't make any sense, don't make any fucking sense…

"Why not?" Craig snaps.

I don't have an answer, in all honesty. Because of something shitty like morality? Ha, no. Morality is a concept invented by the weak. But even those words ring false in my mind, because I'm the fucking defender of morals, I'm Mysterion—I defend everyone, defend people from the unjust—is that what I'm seeking now, even though I gave up the cheap-ass superhero outfit years ago? Do I just want to be a rescuer again, a redeemer, some sort of—of savior? It's stupid. Mysterion is dead. He was a game. A game that had a massive effect on the town, yes, a game that saved probably countless lives and a shitload of money, but a game nonetheless. Things like that don't carry over to the teenage years, to adulthood. At least, they don't in South Park, Colorado. We keep drugs and sex. What more do you need, really? Nothing actually decent is necessary if you can cover up the gaps in your life with the haze of a good smoke and a promise of a wild night.

"I'll pay you," he bursts out suddenly, his eyes glimmering insanely. "I'll pay you—I have money, I have people that can get you more money—and I have other ways of paying, too, you know that…"

He's lying. He's got to be lying. Why the hell else would he offer me cash just to fuck his boyfriend? Is he desperate for a show or something? Or… is it that he wants me? Is he asking that I stay so that I can… so that he and I can… the prospect isn't entirely displeasing. My attention is now shifting more to him, less to Tweek. He seems to be offering me a good fuck and any number of crisp bills, so who am I to deny him?

"D-don't do it please?" Tweek whimpers, his bony frame shaking like a good wind could blow it straight out of Colorado. But he doesn't have anything to offer me… besides, I like Craig a good deal more than I do Tweek. If I have to upset one of them, it might as well be the one incapable of rewarding me, the one whose feelings I care about less. Not that I care about either of their feelings. At all. Dammit.

His eyes ripple with tears, and his face is stained with flushed patches and sticky lines where the saltwater has dried, an absolute mess. I'm not sure I can identify just why Craig likes him so much, though I suppose he does have a cute body. He's probably a good screamer, too… yeah, I can see this kid acting nice and weak in bed. I always love that, when they behave so… pathetically. It makes me feel powerful. In control. Which is, after all, a role that I'm presented with rarely enough otherwise.

"Yeah. Fine," I mutter, looking away from the blonde, who sobs desperately.

"Stop acting so depressed," Craig scoffs, crossing his arms casually. "You know you want to. You know you're going to love it."

I am. I can already tell that I am absolutely going to love it. So why is there still that nag in the back of my mind, telling me that I'm acting like an absolute douche, that I should grab Tweek and fucking run for it? Well, it doesn't matter, anyhow, because I'm not too keen on listening to that voice. I've made my decision, and Craig seems rather delighted about it, judging by his stance and the glitter of his eyes. Two happy to one not. It's as fair as we'll get. Majority rules.

"P-please," Tweek chokes through his low wails, his lips stuttering with the effort of speaking the single word.

"Get off me." I give my arm a light shake, but apparently it's too much for him—he collapses backwards onto the ground, yelping as his tailbone collides with the hard wooden floorboards. Slowly, he drags himself back to the bed, and slumps over the side of it, hacking out more tears.

Craig laughs, the sharp, deep bark of a hungry predator, and lets his arms relax. They dangle widely at his sides, and I can't help but view it as a fighting stance. Despite the casual air that he's emanating, he's ready to physically restrain me from helping Tweek if I have a sudden… change of heart. I won't, though. I can't. I'll just have to make it through the night—that has no reason to be a challenge, none at all. After all, fucking is what I'm best at.

"So." I tuck my hands into my pockets, face him fully. "What exactly are you giving me?"

"Well, you have a choice," he drawls brightly, the words nasal and twisted with evil enjoyment. "Me, Tweek, or both. You know what I'm talking about, here."

It'll be a long night no matter what. I hesitate for a moment, evaluating my own energies. Two isn't that much of a stretch in one round, not for me. I'll do Tweek first, go light on him, as a sort of warm up. Then I can transfer to Craig—he, I know, will be willing to go at it with quite some power. Something to look forward to. My tongue swipes around the inside of my mouth appreciatively as I laugh out a response. "Both, of course."

"Alright," he purrs. We stare at each other for a moment, noting that we just agreed to have sex without so much as batting an eyelid—and we hardly know each other, too—before he yells, "Tweek!" The tone in which he speaks the name is the type that one would use when calling a dog. The blonde flinches and ducks his head, weeping softly, as Craig plows on: "The more the better… shut up," he grumbles in exasperation.

"Yeah," I agree thoughtlessly, "it's annoying." Each word grates on my throat, but I imagine it doesn't, pretend that I couldn't care less—tell myself that I couldn't care less.

"K-Kenny…" Tweek whispers, shaking. I look somewhere over his head, vaguely in the direction of the wall. There's a darkish splotch there where it looks like a spider might have met its untimely end, most likely confronted with a shoe or similar weapon.

"I—why are you doing this?" he questions weakly.

"It's fun," I snort, staring so hard that the image of spider guts will probably be eternally imprinted in my mind.

"B-but… how? Why is it fun to—to watch someone's innocence go away…?"

"Think that happened a while back," I offer all-too-easily.

"Yeah," Craig agrees with a short laugh.

"You—you'd make it worse than it already is," Tweek insists frantically.

"How?" The single word is as much a challenge to myself as it is to him—I'm fighting an internal battle much more than an external one at the moment, struggling to just force myself not to care, not to care…

"B-because…" He looks quickly back and forth between us. "Because… you can…"

"C'mon, bitch, speak," Craig spits.

"YOU CAN DO WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT!" Tweek screams. It's so loud, so shocking and out of place, that I actually stumble backwards a step or two, flinching. His face is flushed bright red, and his shoulders convulse with spasmodic sobs. "Whatever you want—I'll still be resistant, like I always am, you're… I'll fucking withstand…"

"Sure you will," I snort. It's hard to believe that the small, weak boy will be able to stand much anything at all.

"I—I will… try me…"

"Oh, so now you want to?" Craig elbows me heavily in the ribcage, an action that, for some reason, sends excited sparks through my stomach. I suppose it's just anticipation. It's a weird feeling, though, one that I haven't gotten since… wow… for a really time. What must it have been—third, fourth grade? Like… the feeling I'd get when I actually had a crush on someone—but that's not it. Not at all. The very idea, in fact, is laughable. I've never crushed on a guy in my life. The only reason I screw them at all is for variety. I'm so preoccupied with these ridiculous self-doubts that I hardly catch his next muttered phrase: "Told you he was a slut."

"And so you were right," I find myself agreeing.

He snickers and backs away. For some reason, his warmth departing from my side is a twisted sort of disappointment, but I pretend not to notice, because he's already talking again. "Kenny, did you bring anything? Toys… tape… rope, perhaps?"

"Who do you think I am?" Smirking, I strip off my parka, tossing the heavy garment in Craig's direction.

He snatches it out of the air, looking a bit surprised at its weight—of course, concealed objects can be rather heavy. "Ah, Ken," he breathes, hands sliding into a couple of the many hidden pockets, "I love you, man." He proceeds to remove a roll of duct tape and a bit of rope and lug them over to the bed, scooping Tweek up under the arms and tossing him onto it, ignoring his squeak. I watch coldly and silently as he proceeds to wind a length of the silvery tape around the trembling wrists and tie them expertly to the bed posts.

"There," he murmurs, stepping back and taking a look at his handiwork. "Now he should be much more fun to… play with…"

Tweek squirms desperately, a high-pitched keen leaking out of his throat, and I cross my arms, exhaling in a swift puff of air. I don't give a shit how uncomfortable he is; it's not my fucking problem. Not my fucking problem. I occupy myself with swiping my fingers over the light switch, half-turning it down so that the glow filling the room turns thick amber and rusty, glutinous, so that it drips over Craig and Tweek's shadowed forms.

"C'mon," I taunt, "Give him a kiss… don't you want to, Tweek?"

"Ugh—no!"

"Yeah, you do… come here…" There's a muffled squeak as Craig leans in over Tweek, and I brace myself casually against the wall, craning my neck slightly to get a good angle. Craig's fingers are wound in the smaller boy's shaggy blonde hair, their mouths pressed together, and I can practically feel the sexual tension radiating from the invisible distance between Tweek's squirming body and Craig's steady one. After a moment, the latter pulls back, grinning in my direction.

"So," he continues as if the interlude hadn't occurred, "how do you want to do this? I go first, you second… or what? Your call, dude."

I consider for a moment, nibbling at the edge of my lip. "…You two do your thing first. Then I can take my time… with both…"

A heavy sigh. "Fine. Although, let me warn—I am always on top. I am never…" His teeth shine in the low light as he grins wickedly. "…The bitch."

"Whatever you want." I shrug. It's not a huge thing for me; I'm used to being both top and bottom, though the first perhaps a bit more. Still, I'm not even sure I want dominance over Craig, as… satisfying as that might be. I almost… want him to… use me. Want to hear his voice, that low, nasally voice in my ear, hot breath creeping down my neck, hissing scream for me… and I would, I would scream, loudly enough to crack all the glass in the house…

Tweek's breath is coming even faster now as he jerks away helplessly, unable to resist as Craig moves in yet closer. I creep around the edge of the room until I'm farther away from the door, positioned right next to the bed.

"Ready, Tweek?"

"N-no," he whimpers, shifting in the shadows. Everything seems oddly quiet, almost peaceful, like the calm before the storm. I could practically fall asleep here, in this room, though I'm nowhere near doing such a thing. No, I have far too much to look forward to—beginning with this show being put on for me, right here, right now.

Craig growls, a completely animal noise, and I can hear him murmuring to Tweek, his voice rough and cruel, just a notch too low for my ears to pick up the individual words. Scattered squeaks and muffled wails come from the blonde boy as, slowly, his remaining clothes are stripped off. His thin shape, swathed in shadow, is trembling absurdly, almost like he's having some sort of bizarre seizure. The little whimpers emanating from his mouth are stifled as Craig slinks in closer, purring low in his throat, winding his arms around Tweek's thin chest, tangling his fingers in his hair. He pauses for a moment, holding his breath, then goes in for the kill.

It's harsh, it's sudden, and I can't deny that it's damn hot. Craig's done with foreplay, abruptly cut it off—now he's smothering Tweek, stifling the smaller boy's nose and mouth with his own, murmuring and fiercely crushing him tighter, and the process begins.

It's a blurred mesh of panting, moaning, and weak screaming, of the bed rocking violently as the two of them move faster and faster. I'm high on anticipation, like an overeager puppy, knowing that I'm going to have both of them, individually. Any trace of sympathy for Tweek has completely evaporated, even as wail after chilling wail is torn from his already raw throat, even as he sobs relentlessly into the stirred-up pillows, staining them, even as blood and cum join the dirty mess and their entwined cries grown higher and louder, reaching up to the ceiling and pressing against the walls of the small room, until finally they subside. Craig falls back with a sultry, delighted groan of pleasure, and Tweek rocks back and forth, faint, almost inaudible echoes of his former shrieks tainting the heated air. I tuck my hands into my pockets, smirking at the two of them, and take a couple of steps forward.

"My turn?" I question lightly.

"P-please," Tweek hiccups, "n-no more… please, no more…"

"Shut up," Craig snaps.

"Slut," I add.

"You are a slut," Craig agrees, looking oddly pleased, then tacks "Little whore" onto the end with apparent relish.

"N-no… YOU'RE THE SLUT, ASS FUCKER!" Tweek screeches, then holds his hands up to his face, hiding his reddened eyes behind shaking fingers. His breathing is ragged and uneven, and his whole body draws away from Craig, pushing itself against the bedframe.

Craig slowly draws himself up to his full height, towering over him. "Excuse me?" he asks softly, eyes dancing with danger as his hands curl into tight fists.

Tweek quakes, but doesn't take his words back. His next sentence is muffled. "I-I said, y-you're the slut, ass f-fucker…"

"Look who's talking!" Craig bellows. "Let me see you eat those words!"

"You're pathetic," I spit in Tweek's direction.

"Very pathetic," Craig agrees harshly. He glances over at me. "You ready to punish him, Ken?"

"P-please… Kenny… you're better than this…" Tweek chokes.

My eyes rove back and forth between the two of them. You're better than this. Am I, really? What is there that I could do to help Tweek, anyways? This is already what I've told myself I'm going to do. There's no use revoking my determination. I'm going to fuck them. I'm going to fuck them both, and I'm going to enjoy it, whether or not they do. Craig was right. Tweek's nothing but a little slut.

"Very ready," I declare in a low growl, and start for the bed.