formerdinosaur (formerdinosaur) wrote,
formerdinosaur
formerdinosaur

Self Improvement: Cartman Fic

Attempting to post this has literally taken an hour??!!?

Title: Self Improvement
Pairings: Cartman/Several, Butters/Many
Words: 12K
Notes: For Sekrit, thank you for encouraging me to write this!



"Eric! ERIC!"

Cartman grits his teeth and keeps his eyes on his phone. He can hear Butters thundering toward him, racing across their British Lit classroom and breathing heavily. It's always something with this motherfucker, and if Butters wasn't such a good lay Cartman would have forbade him from speaking to him in public, which he maybe could have done anyway, if Butters hadn't developed an annoying streak of self respect around the time high school started. He comes to a panting halt and hurtles himself into the desk in front of Cartman's, grabbing Cartman's desk with both hands.

"Eric!" Butters says when Cartman continues staring at his phone. He's looking at Wendy's Facebook page. She went to brunch with her mother yesterday, and Cartman has been studying the pictures since he sat down. "Eric!" Butters says again, shaking his desk. "Something horrible has happened!"

"Oh, Christ, what?" Cartman puts the phone away and groans, grudgingly looking up at Butters. He's panicked, wide-eyed, but that doesn't mean shit. "Did you accidentally kill another moth?"

"Worse!" Butters moans and puts his head down on Cartman's desk. "Oh, Eric, it's awful. I just realized this morning that I'm a terrible, hateful person."

"Uh-huh. Took you this long to figure that out, huh?"

"Yes! Did you know?" Butters brings his hands to his mouth, curling both into fists. "Oh, but you couldn't have, because you don't know about all the fellas I've been with."

"All the feh -- oh, seriously? You're just now deciding that being an enormous slut makes you a bad person?"

"No, Eric, and you know I don't believe in that! I practice free love, or I thought I did."

"Ugh, god, don't call it that. I can't believe I've had my dick in the ass of such a hippie freak."

"That's the thing." Butters lets his arms drop to his sides and sighs glumly. "You're a real bastard to me most of the time, and I even let you enjoy the pleasures of my body."

"Eyuck, god, stop! Keep talking like this and you'll never enjoy the pleasures of my dick again, you hear?"

"Eric, hush up and listen to me." Butters moves closer and lowers his voice. "I've been so free with my sweet loving that I haven't kept track of it as good as I should have."

"I don't want to hear about your STDs, Butters. You didn't get them from me, I'm clean."

"It's not an STD!" It's--" Butters whimpers, looking like he might start crying. "It's racism," he says, whispering.

"Huh?"

"I was at the ice cream parlor yesterday--"

"Don't call it an ice cream parlor."

"Hush! I was at the ice cream shop, and in walked Token and Wendy."

"I don't want to hear about those assholes." Cartman is enraged at the mention of the name of Wendy's boyfriend, as always. He might enjoy porking Butters when he's bored, but Wendy is the one he should be with, and he's never stopped thinking so since she kissed him when they were eight.

"Seeing them kissing and holding hands and such got me thinking," Butters says. "I was thinking about how everyone else who's dated Wendy has also spent some intimate time with me at least once. Kenny, Kevin, even Stan - even you, Eric, if we count that one time she kissed you!"

"Shut the fuck up, Butters," Cartman says, wanting to kick his ass. Sadly, Butters is obsessed with MMA and UFC and all that quasi-homo extreme fighting shit, and though he's small he's quick, kind of insane when provoked, and weirdly good in a fight. Perhaps because of this, he goes on with his stupid story as if Cartman did not object.

"And that got me to thinking that it's not just Wendy's ex-boyfriends who I've been with, it's, well, everyone! Every boy in our year -- except one."

"Congratulations. I'll order you a cake with World's Biggest Slut in red frosting. Are you done?"

"No, I'm not done! While I was sitting there, thinking this, looking at Wendy and Token, I realized something that made me break into a cold sweat."

"Your ass is looser than the Grand Canyon? Yeah, that would make me sweat, too, if I were you." Actually, Butters' ass is satisfying and delightful, but he brings these comments on himself, really.

"I've never slept with Token!" Butters says, bellowing this so that three other kids who've shown up for class early turn to stare at them. "I've slept with all the boys except the one who just so happens to be black! Eric, I'm a racist and I didn't even know! I'm disgusting, I'm like -- I'm practically like you!"

Cartman opens his mouth to tell Butters that this is the stupidest fucking thing he's ever said for multiple reasons, including the fact that Token is not just the only black kid in their year but also the only guy who doesn't fuck other dudes out of preference or boredom, not to mention the fact that Butters getting with Kevin Stoley means he doesn't have some kind of white supremacist rectum, but then he reconsiders. There is something to be gained from his idiotic situation, perhaps.

"You're right, Butters," Cartman says, making his expression very grave. "My god. All this time, you were a huge racist."

"Oh, god, Eric! I feel awful!"

"As you should."

"Well, look who's talking, mister! I came to you with this because you're the biggest racist I know. I figured you could at least relate."

"Maybe, but at least I don't pretend to be all accepting and open-minded and shit. You've been living a lie, Butters. You were even lying -- to yourself."

"Jesus!" Butters covers his eyes again, moaning. More kids are beginning to file into the room as the start of class approaches. Cartman will have to make this quick.

"There's only one thing to be done," he says, withholding victorious laughter. "Unless you want to remain a racist in the memory of our classmates - forever."

"What, Eric? What should I do?"

"Look into your heart. You know what you must do, Butters. That's right. You must sleep with Token Black before we graduate next month."

"You're right," Butters says, nodding slowly. "I know you're right, Eric. But what about Wendy? He's real devoted to her."

"You leave that to me," Cartman says, unable to suppress a smile. "You work on Token. Come over to my house after school and we'll formulate a plan."

"Oh-okay! You got it. Thanks, Eric. You might be a fellow racist, but you're still a good friend."

"Shut up, Butters."

After school, Cartman gives Butters a ride home in his beloved Buick, fucks him on the living room couch, then microwaves some ham and cheese Hot Pockets for them to enjoy up in his room. Butters sits on the bed next to Cartman and cuddles him a little while he chews his Hot Pocket. Cartman allows it, for the purpose his developing plan.

"That was real nice, Eric," Butters says. He sighs. "I suppose pretty soon you might be the only one in town who's willing to what-what in my butt, once word gets around that I'm racist scum."

"Not if our plan works, Butters."

"Oh boy! Wait, what's the plan?"

"For you to get Token in bed, asswipe!"

"Well, I know that much, but how am I supposed to do that? He probably hates me already, for excluding him."

"Relax. Let's not get ahead of ourselves." Cartman finishes his Hot Pocket and wipes his hands on Butters' t-shirt. "First of all, we need to review the process that got you here. Fetch me my sketchpad and a pen."

"Are you gonna draw me?" Butters asks, bringing the supplies from Cartman's desk.

"No, idiot, we're going to make notes on your history. I'm having a hard time believing that you've actually boned every guy in our class except Token. Tell me about it," he says, leaning back and assuming the posture of a psychologist, the sketchpad propped against his knee. He's aware of some of Butters' conquests, but throughout the day he's grown genuinely curious about the ones he's never heard about before, particularly if Butters is counting Kyle Broflovski as one of the boys he's fucked around with.

"Well, let's see." Butters touches his bottom lip and stretches out on the bed, propping himself up a bit with his elbow. "I guess I'll start from the beginning. As you know, I lost my virginity to Kenny."

"Yeah," Cartman says, mumbling this angrily. Though he's never felt especially possessive of Butters, it does annoy him that Kenny's unworthy dick was the first and only one in town to experience the virginal tightness of Butters' sought-after ass. "So I guess that means you're not prejudiced against poor white trash."

"Eric, don't call him that. Kenny was a wonderful partner! Such a nice kisser, too, my goodness. If Wendy hadn't stolen him away I might have stayed with him for a long time!"

"I don't want to hear about your romantic regrets," Cartman barks, annoyed by the mention of Wendy's interest in Kenny. "Who came next? Me?"

"You sure did. I was real lonely without Kenny around to see to my physical needs, and you wanted to lose your virginity--"

"Right." Cartman doesn't appreciate the reminder that Butters was his first. It was a Friday night, Cartman was about to turn sixteen and was horny as fuck pretty much nonstop, and Butters was eying his bulge while they watched some dumb movie, moping about how much he missed having a cock to ride. They've been fuck buddies ever since, and Cartman is growing concerned about how he'll live without this convenience in college. Butters is going to some gay hippie school up in Oregon, and Cartman hasn't been all that successful in persuading anyone else to sleep with him, like, ever.

"Then there was that time when Clyde was sad because some girls convinced him to go skinny dipping with them and then ran off with his clothes," Butters says. "He needed the kind of comfort only my rear end can give."

"Goddammit, Butters." Cartman is partly jealous that Butters has all this experience, but the kid is still a sick fuck for letting literally any guy unload in his ass. "Then what?"

"Hmm, let's see. Well, I guess after that was around the time I had that threesome with Stan and Kyle."

"WHAT?" Cartman drops his sketchpad, sneering in disbelief. "Don't lie to me Butters."

"I ain't, Eric! Kyle wanted to give Stan a present for his seventeenth birthday, and I guess Stan is bi, so Kyle dolled me up like a lady."

"Jesus fucking Christ. And they -- they both?" Cartman is equally jealous and disgusted by the thought of being in the middle of those two.

"Yeah, it was real fun! Until Kyle started crying, but he was okay in the end."

"The Jew cried?" Cartman is almost aroused by this - almost. "Why?"

"Well, gosh, I couldn't really understand why, to tell you the truth. Things were going well, Kyle was fucking me while Stan fucked him, we were all having a big old time, but then after he came in my ass Kyle got teary and locked himself in the bathroom for a while. Stan talked him out of there, though, and they hugged and thanked me for giving it a try. They never did invite me back, though, which is a real shame."

"A real -- you liked it? Kyle's dick was in your butt and you liked it?" Cartman feels kind of betrayed, though still partially aroused.

"Sure! His equipment wasn't anything special - not like Kenny's, mhmm - but it was nice to be in the presence of true love."

"True love, right. True love is all about skanky cross dressing threesomes."

"Why shouldn't it be? It's nice that they want to try new things together! Don't be so cynical, Eric."

"Fuck off, I'll be as cynical as I please. Enough about those dildos. Who came next?"

Butters sighs and leans down to rest his head on his folded arm, drawing his knees up toward his chest. Cartman considers fucking him again, still a bit hard from the thought of Kyle plowing Butters in drag while getting plowed by Stan.

"After that came the summer," Butters says. He's avoiding Cartman's eyes now, staring into space. "That was when I was with Craig."

"Craig? What'd you do, fuck him at the community pool or something?"

"Oh - no, we never did it there."

"You did it with him more than once?"

"Uh-huh. That was when you were in Aurora for a few weeks, at young entrepreneurship camp."

"That camp was totally lame."

"Well, my summer was pretty darn good. Craig -- he's different."

Cartman scoffs. "I'll say. He's so boring he's practically comatose. Did he even speak when you two were going at it? I've always assumed he would fuck in grim silence."

"We talked," Butters says. He seems wistful and goes quiet for a while, until Cartman extends his leg across the mattress and gives him a kick. "What -- oh, yeah. Craig. We had sex. Uh-huh."

"Why are you getting all weird? Did he dump you or something?"

"Nah."

"Butters, I need full disclosure if our plan is going to work."

"Oh, Eric. Well, to tell you the truth, you came home from camp all raring to go, and I was pretty excited about that -- you remember?"

"Sure, sure." Cartman feels his neck get hot. It was true that he'd missed Butters terribly during his three weeks away -- his ass, anyway. He'd gotten hard on the bus ride home, just thinking about sinking his cock into those sweet, welcoming cheeks again. Butters had been all giggly and flattered by Cartman's masculine need for him, and he'd spread his legs for Cartman until sundown. It was so good that Cartman hadn't even limited Butters' attempts to kiss and cuddle him. "Wait a minute," he says. "If you were so into Craig at the time, why'd you let me fuck you? Especially with all that snuggling bullshit on the side?"

Butters sighs. "I'm a sex addict, Eric," he says.

"Oh. Right."

"When Craig found out, he was real hurt. But it's fine," Butters says, hurriedly. "I'm just not designed to stick with one person. I know that now. Anyhoo." He sits up, looking kind of gloomy for a moment, but as usual with this dimwit he's perked up again in a few seconds. "Next was Jimmy, I think. Or maybe Dog Poo?"

"Jimmy? DOG POO? What the fuck!"

"I told you I'd slept with everyone but Token, Eric! Well, and Timmy, but I don't really think he could consent--"

"Sick! Just -- what the hell? Jimmy is straight!"

"I know, but when he realized how many of his friends are bisexual he decided to give it a shot himself. And I was happy to be the shot he gave!"

"Jimmy Vulmer fucked you in the ass? How does that even work, like - mechanically?"

"He didn't want my butt involved, actually. I gave him a good old fashioned blow job, and he said thanks but that he preferred getting those from the ladies after all."

"You're blowing my fucking mind, Butters. What about Dog Poo? Don't even tell me you let that filthy hippie put his wiener where mine has been!"

"Well, if you say so."

"You did, didn't you? Jesus, sick! Did his rancid body odor make you vomit halfway through? Or throughout?"

"I won't lie," Butters says, as if he even knows how to, "His scent was pretty overwhelming at times."

"Then why'd you fucking put out for him? Don't tell me it's 'cause you're a goddamn sex addict - even a sex addict won't fuck a garbage can for no good reason."

"He's not a garbage can, Eric, he's a human being! And I'll have you know that I did not get penetrated by him, so you can stop making assumptions about my sex life. We were just talking, is all, about our parents and how they don't treat us so good. I reached over to gently touch his crotch, and he was kind enough to return the favor. It was a real nice hand job exchange, even with the smell."

"Ugh, god." Cartman checks his bedstand for a glass of water, the Hot Pocket taste suddenly rancid in his mouth, but his bedside Wellington Bear glass is empty. He picks it up and tosses it to Butters. "Go to the bathroom and fill that a quarter full with mouthwash," Cartman says, waving his hand toward the door. "Hurry up. You're making me ill with this shit."

"Well, you asked, mister!" Butters thrusts the glass back at Cartman, who gasps and hurries to catch it before it can break.

"What the fuck, asshole! This is a childhood heirloom! Don't throw my shit!"

"Then don't treat me like I'm your servant! Go get your own darn mouthwash!"

"Yeah? Oh yeah? Well, maybe you can come with a plan to seduce Token on your own, asshole!"

"Maybe I can! Seems like I did okay with the rest of the class. Better than you!"

"I will not stand for his backtalk, Butters, not when you're a guest in my house!" Cartman is sort of flailing, wishing he hadn't taken up this particular argument, because now Butters is stomping toward the door, some of his conquests still undisclosed. "Wait!" Cartman shouts when Butters reaches for the doorknob. He turns back to the bed, scowling, and Cartman snarls at him. "We're not finished here," Cartman says, jabbing his finger against his notepad. "There are still two names on my list that aren't checked off."

"Then maybe you should go ahead and apologize," Butters says, having the nerve to look smug, which should be impossible after an afternoon spent taking dick and then reminiscing about all the dick he's indiscriminately taken over the years. "Go on," Butters says when Cartman fidgets. "Say you're sorry, then I'll tell you about Tweek and Kevin."

"Tweek," Cartman mutters, disgusted by the thought of Tweek's bony blond limbs tangling with Butters' slightly less bony ones. He sketches a quick picture of Butters' stupid face on his notepad, then draws an arrow through his head, which totally means that this forthcoming apology is fake, for the purposes of espionage only. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. "Now get your ass back over here, and at least tell me you topped that cokehead chihuahua."

"You mean Tweek?" Butters says. He's toying with the door knob but has obviously decided to stay. "Oh, no, he was on top of me. He's a strange guy, I agree, but he was real polite, except he did offer me forty dollars."

"Forty -- you didn't take it, did you? You know what that would make you, Butters."

"Eric, check your privilege! I got nothing but respect for sex workers! But I don't like muddying the free love waters with financial gain, so I said no thank you to the forty bucks and let Tweek lose his virginity with me for free. He was worried he'd die a virgin, see."

"Christ, and he would have if he didn't know you. You're a real humanitarian, Butters."

"You can just cool it with that sarcastic tone, Eric." Butters sighs and glances at the clock on Cartman's bedside table. "Look, I gotta go home and start making dinner for my folks soon. If I tell you about Kevin will you go ahead and give me a plan for Token?"

"Sure, sure. Kevin seems like such a limp dick, you must have at least topped him."

"No sir, I didn't. This was just a couple of weeks ago, on the night of the senior prom. Kevin didn't have a date, and I didn't have one either. It was making me real sad, considering I've shared all these intimate moments with folks but nobody wanted to slow dance with me."

"Uh huh." Cartman didn't have a date either, and he stayed home getting drunk on his mom's S'mores Schnapps and crying over Facebook pictures of Wendy pinning a boutonnière on Token's jacket. So what; it's not like he wanted to go with Butters, or Kevin for that matter. Stan and Wendy were prom King and Queen. Fucking assholes.

"So I noticed Kevin was online and thought, hey, why not strike up a conversation? We decided to go get some cheese fries together, and one thing led to another."

"Jesus. Did you fuck him behind the dumpster at Sonic or wait until he brought you back to his pathetic fanboy headquarters?"

"Eric, I've had about enough of your judgment, understand? Either tell me the plan for making things right with Token or I'm gonna have to leave this negative environment."

"This negative -- Jesus, you didn't mind my fucking negativity when my dick was up your ass."

"That wasn't negative, it was beautiful lovemaking!"

"Eugh, no it wasn't! Okay, okay!" Cartman throws the notebook down when Butters turns the doorknob like a threat, glaring at him. "Fine, alright. Token. Uh, let's see. What do we know about Token. Well, he's black, so--"

"Don't you even finish that sentence, mister. I don't want to hear your racist generalizations -- I got enough problems with my own latent racism over here."

"Latent racism?" Cartman narrows his eyes. "Check your privilege? Sex workers? Who have you been talking to? Wendy?"

"I've been educating myself in certain online communities, and I'm not gonna tell you which ones, because I don't want you trolling them. Really, Eric, what do you think? Should I approach Token and tell him how I feel, straight up?"

"No, god! Token is a repressed bisexual." Like Cartman, Butters believes that everyone is bisexual at heart. "You can't just cannonball into this situation with your dick out. You've got to be smooth. Get him alone. Like how you managed to seduce Kevin because it was prom night, or Clyde because he was naked and had recently been emasculated by females. What we need is a similar opportunistic scenario where Token will be vulnerable to your inviting butthole's charms."

"Don't call it that," Butters says, and he wrinkles his nose. Cartman sputters and throws out his arms.

"What would you prefer? Anus? Sphincter? Wrinkled pucker?"

Butters giggles as if each of these words is funnier than the last, shaking his head.

"I call it my inner channel," he says, and he frowns when Cartman bursts into laughter.

"As opposed to your outer channel?" Cartman says, laughing so hard he nearly falls off the bed. "Inner -- inner channel, oh my god -- no, wait, Butters! Wait!"

The door is open now, Butters halfway through it and glowering as fiercely as he can, which is not very.

"Okay, I'm sorry." Cartman clears his throat, trying very hard to stop laughing. This is serious, dammit; it might be his one chance to unseat Token from Wendy's boyfriend throne before she leaves for college. Token is bound and determined to act like he's super straight, but even if he turns Butters down, Cartman can make it look like he didn't. "Just leave it to me," Cartman says, because he doesn't have a plan yet, but he needs Butters to think he does. Fortunately, Butters is the more gullible than most pre-schoolers. "I'll come up with the perfect opportunity for you to get in Token's pants."

"Gosh, Eric, I'd sure appreciate it," Butters says, his expression softening instantly. "It's gonna keep me up at night, knowing I denied a friend access to my body on account of his skin color." Butters moans regretfully and grabs at his hair like suddenly he's Tweek or something.

"Don't worry, Butters. I've got your back. Pretty soon you'll satisfying Token so well you'll be eligible for an NAACP award."

"Eric." Butters shakes his head. "You know, you gotta stop talking like that before you go to college. Someone's gonna beat the crap out of you."

"Like I've never gotten beat up by a black guy before."

Token has pummeled him twice this year alone, though both times it was for comments Cartman made about Wendy, not Token himself. Butters sighs and neatens the hair he'd been rending.

"You got a lot to learn about life, friend," Butters says. "But I know you're an expert on manipulating people, so I'm gonna need your help with this indeed. Just keep in mind that I'm manipulating for good!"

"Sure, Butters, of course. Now get the hell out of here, I've got plans to make."

When Butters is gone, Cartman beats off to the thought of Butters getting fucked by Clyde, who pops into the scenario without Cartman's permission. When he's finished, he imagines himself comforting Wendy, who is crying because Token betrayed her with Butters.

"There, there," Cartman mutters, stroking his pillow. "Cry on the shoulder of thy noble knight, Princess Wendy. Never again shall the filthy peasants of this realm shatter thy heart with homo affairs behind thy back."

"Eric?"

That's his stupid mom, knocking on the door like she owns the place. Cartman turns from his pillow, red-faced and glaring at the door.

"What, Mom, Jesus?"

"Is your little friend staying for dinner?"

"I -- no, he -- Butters left. I'm rehearsing for a school play, god!"

"Ooh, okay! Well, dinner's ready when you are!"

Downstairs, Cartman eats four steak tacos with extra cheese and contemplates his options for a Token on Butters romantic scene. There's locking them together in the school after hours, but that's too expected. A camping trip gone wrong might do the trick, especially if they were led to believe that they were in a life or death situation, but that just sounds like a lot of work, and weather variables would be involved. Cartman pulls out his phone when it buzzes with a new notification. Wendy has updated her Facebook status.

Wendy Testaburger Just bought tickets to see The Lion King in Denver! Can't wait!

Cartman smiles down at the screen, plans formulating. So she's trying to drag Token to some fruity musical in the city, eh? Paying for the tickets to things like this herself, instead of waiting for him to surprise her? Now is the perfect time to strike, and, after a glance at the Lion King performance schedule online, Cartman knows the exact day to enact Operation Get Wendy Back. It's been ten long years in the making and at last he's ready, all thanks to Butters and his consuming need to open his Inner Channel to every boy in town.

Step One, minor though important: Cartman "likes" Wendy's status. As it so often happens, he's the first person to do so.

*

At school the next day, Cartman scouts the cafeteria and is pleased to find Token sitting with Stan, Clyde and the other football players. Kyle's presence at the table is a liability, but Token will be more relaxed and bro-ish in the company of his teammates, and that atmosphere should cancel out Kyle's shrewish bitching. Kyle's catty dislike of Wendy may actually prove valuable, if Cartman plays his cards right here.

“Gentlemen!” Cartman says, placing his tray at the end of the table and pulling up a chair as if he can take it for granted that he's welcome. He knows before they all turn to give him stares of dull surprise that he's not, but fuck these guys: they can go ahead and think he's an oblivious fucker if it distracts them from the fact that they're all part of his larger plan. “How's it going over here?” Cartman asks. He tears open his Doritos and eats a few of them before answering his own question. “Yeah, my day's going pretty good. Except for my mom giving me a hard time about going to some gay ass play with her in Denver.”

“You should probably stop using gay as an insult,” Kyle says, doing his best to sound bored. “Since you and Butters are having anal sex on a regular basis.”

“There's nothing gay about two men having anal sex, Kyle,” Cartman says, gesturing at him with a chip. “Not the way I do it to Butters, anyway. I don't know what kind of candlelit, Liberace shit goes on between you and Mr. Quarterback here, but—”

“Cartman,” Stan says. “What do you want?”

“Want? Why do you assume I want something? Other than friendly conversation and a place to sit while I consume my afternoon meal.”

“That's your tell,” Kyle says, pointing back. “Whenever you're plotting you start to phrase shit weirdly. 'Consume my afternoon meal' as opposed to 'eat lunch,' for example.”

“Ooh, Professor Broflovski is on the case! I'm flattered that you've been examining my mannerisms so closely, Kyle, though I can't say I'm surprised—”

“What play does your mom want you to go to?” Token asks, ever the peace-keeper. It takes a lot of effort for Cartman to suppress a gloating grin: the predictable bastard is playing right into his hands.

“The fucking Lion King, man,” Cartman says. “Jesus, why are they still doing that play in this day and age? That movie came out when I was like, five.”

“It's different,” Kyle says. “It's actually a good production. Stan and I went for Valentine's Day.”

“Ugh, god,” Cartman says, glancing at Stan, who is staring back like he dares Cartman to comment on that. “Chicks, am I right? Token, I saw on Facebook that your little lady is trying to drag you to that shit, too.”

“Oh, I'm a chick because I like Disney stuff,” Kyle says before Token can respond. “And Cartman's totally butch, despite his well-documented cross dressing habits.”

“Kyle, please, I was—”

“And tea parties!” Kyle shouts. Stan puts a hand on his shoulder.

“I was a confused child!” Cartman says, only getting a little red. He still dresses up on occasion. Sometimes Butters joins him, and apparently Butters is in the habit of kissing and telling. It's possible that Kyle knows all about their girls-in-prison role plays, despite the fact that Cartman has threatened castration if Butters spills his secret. “Anyway,” Cartman says loudly, turning back to Token. “Seems like Wendy's dragging you to see this dated lion musical. Sucks, dude. That's why I'm keeping my dick strictly in male asses until my child-siring years, despite the temptation of feminine charms.”

“Uh,” Token says, laughing a little. “I really don't mind going. It's her thing, but she bought the tickets. And Kyle says it's great,” he adds. Clyde snorts, and Cartman appreciates that. He'd forgotten Clyde was present; he's very intently eating his cafeteria tortellini.

“God,” Kyle says. “I can't wait to be in college. You guys are so small-minded that something as mainstream as the fucking Lion King musical threatens you.”

“I'm not threatened,” Stan says, rubbing Kyle's shoulder now.

“Me either,” Token says.

“Well,” Clyde says, wiping marinara from the corner of his mouth. “You two are both whipped.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Kyle says. “Mr. Lonelyhearts. You're just bitter.”

“Whipped is a misogynistic term,” Token says, frowning.

“Yeah,” Stan says. “Don't be like Cartman, dude.”

“Listen to you two!” Cartman says, crushing his Doritos bag in his fist. “It's like Wendy is leading a cult of pussy that's devastated the football team. Well, Wendy and Kyle, the human vagina. No wonder you're losing all your games.”

“Why are we allowing him to sit here?” Kyle asks, looking pointedly at Stan, who shrugs.

“Token, look,” Cartman says, leaning toward him. He's only partly discouraged when Token leans away a bit. “It's too late for Stan. We all know that. Kyle's ability to pussy whip is beyond anything an actual possessor of female genitalia could muster—”

“Alright,” Stan says, getting up. “You're gone.”

“But for you there's still time!” Cartman grabs the table and tries to hang on while Stan yanks him out of his chair. “Token, I – listen, man, I care about you! This Lion King shit is emblematic of the exhausting demands of women, am I right? I am in the unique position to offer you a preview experience of the relaxing alternative of fucking a submissive male, via the pleasures of Butters Stotch's ass!”

“Jesus,” Token says, frowning more deeply. “What's wrong with you?”

“You really have to ask?” Kyle says. “You've known him all your life!”

"Butters thinks you're hot!" Cartman says, still struggling against Stan's attempts to physically eject him from the table. Cartman is a very large obstacle to maneuver, but Stan has arm muscles and shit. "He's a no strings attached miracle! Best lay I've ever had, and it can all be yours for one amazing night!"

"He's the only lay you've ever had," Kyle says.

"Stop pimping your boyfriend," Stan says, and, perhaps due to the shock of having Butters referred to as his boyfriend, Cartman loses his footing, allowing Stan to fling him across the cafeteria and away from the table. Laughter follows, but Cartman leaves feeling triumphant, though he didn't get to finish his ham sandwich. No matter: the seed has been planted. Whether Token considers the offer seriously or not, there were many witnesses. Now he's just got to work on the secret, actual mission here.

Fortunately, he's memorized Wendy's schedule and knows exactly where she is right now.

Part II
Tags: cartman
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