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Photograph	By : Void Category: +S through Z > South Park > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2304 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or make any money from this. All incidents involving celebrities are pure fiction and I do not own their likeness or anything either.

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Author's note: Felt like doing a little something outside of the box and with another crack pairing. There hasn't been much response for my request for plot ideas for another installment of my "Second" series so for now, some miscellaneous stuff, whether y'all like it or not. Enjoy.

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They say that a picture is worth a thousand words.

Looking at the old pictures of his childhood, growing up in a hick mountain town, Kyle thought that that was a correct analogy. His dazzling green eyes gazed down fondly at an old picture of him and three other boys, all of them dressed in winter ware and waiting at a bus stop. He could faintly remember the winter child and he shivered slightly at the remembrance.

Where he was at, though, that chill couldn’t touch him unless the impossible was done or someone turned down the thermostat.

He readily identified himself as the child second from the left, dressed in an orange jacket and a green ushanka to cover the mass of red he called hair. Damn, they had been so small then…well most of them had been small. To his right stood an obese fat ass in a red jacket and a light blue and yellow colored poof ball hat. Damn, he was so fat then…worth two people perhaps and the arguments they would get into, oh how he remembered those. They were definitely something he didn’t miss.

Now to his left stood a much thinner but definitely sturdier boy in a brown jacket with a blue and red poof ball hat on. His best friend since…well, forever really who could be so strong and an out and out leader yet could be the whiniest pussy that you ever did see. Such contrast but that was how he remembered him.

Now, to the right of the fat ass stood the last of the four, a very skinny boy in an orange parka who was staring out into space, doing absolutely nothing. Hmm, if he recalled correctly, twenty seconds after this picture had been taken, there was a big red spot where the boy in the orange parka stood. “Bastard,” he said fondly as he put the photo away and looked at another.

School photo, nothing to think of here except for that one time two of his friends pull a prank where one of them put their clothes on backwards so that their ass was their face and the other put that picture on the back of a milk carton. At the time he hadn’t been laughing at it but now that he was older, he found that he could see the humor in it all, especially since those two ass-for-faces (literally) parents showed up thinking that the orange parka boy, Kenny, was their long lost son.

He knew that morally he should be outraged at finding this funny but he found that he couldn’t bring himself to care right now, so next picture.

Huh, what was he doing there with a middle-aged guy? And why was that guy looking at him like he was—oh, it was that NAMBLA thing. Yeah, lets skip over that one.

Hmm, what about that other NAMBLA? You know, the Marlon Brando look-a-like one? Now that group sounded fun right now and maybe later he would check to see if it was still around. Hopefully they’d let him in. If not, well, he had his ways…

Let’s see now, there’s the Planetarium, Getting Gay with Kids, picture of him with GGWK during one of their performances… Let’s burn that one (he so too had rhythm!).

Ah, Casa Bonita. His birthday party that the fat ass ruined. He hadn’t invited him at first since he had intended to invite one Butters, a kid who he owed something to at the time, but then the fat ass did some wild stunt where he convinced poor little Butters that the end of the world was coming and that it was a zombie apocalypse. Locked the poor guy in his best friend’s uncle’s bunker for nearly a week and then moved him to a junkyard where some lady found him.

Seeing the fat ass being led away to juvie had been sorta worth it.

Now what about this one? Huh, why was he on some talk show with Stan, his best friend, the fat ass, and a neurotic blond named Tweek? Oh yeah, that had something to do with challenging Spielberg and Lucas about them reformatting their films to make them “kid-friendly.” Yeah, and if he recalled correctly, it had been him who brought up reformatting Raiders of the Lost Ark. At least that sorry excuse for a remake never made it to theaters, though he didn’t precisely know what happened to cause that.

Ladder to Heaven? What the hell was that and what was it doing in his photo album? He shifted in his spot, light black covers slipping over his shoulders and he took a real good look at the picture that was more like a newspaper clipping. Ladder to Heaven, Ladder to Heaven, why in all that is holy would he involved with something as stupid as that? He knew he was involved seeing as how he could spot his eight year old self climbing on the pile of wood and furniture. Damn it, what had that been about anyway? All he remembered about building something so tall was once working with Stan and the fat ass to find a way to get to Kenny and make him tell them where he had put their winning ticket for a candy shopping spree and—oh, wait, now he remembered. That thing and the Ladder to Heaven were the same thing.

Moving along…

Okay, he remembered this one. In this picture, he had found some old relic but hadn’t thought much of it until Barbara Streisand came to town looking for it. Ehhg…Mecha Streisand still gave him the shivers. But at least the finding of that old, frozen guy he found kinda made up for that. His name was Steve damn it, no matter how many times Stan said it was Gorad. It was Steve! And he went to Des Moines the last time he checked.

He skipped over a couple of more photos, stopping at another school picture of him, this time with braces. Uhg, the fat ass hadn’t let up on him for months, even nearly a year. It wasn’t until after a couple weeks after he had gotten the braces off and broken the fat ass’s jaw that the teasing stopped. That is, if you could call it teasing in the first place. That definitely got the fat ass to lose some weight; an all liquid diet will do that to you, you know.

He scratched his matted down red hair, letting out a yawn, shifting where he laid and looking at the next picture, frowning at it slightly and skipping over it. Ah, now here was an interesting one, a favorite of his, mind you. It had started off with a little school raffle, one of the prizes being three hundred bucks. However, some idiot accidently added one two zeroes (he thought it was the fat ass in another of his schemes but he couldn’t quite prove it), making it thirty grand instead. He had won that prize and suddenly everybody wanted to be his friend. All the guys in school were nice to him and the girls were wondering if he was interested in going out on a date. Even Stan had gotten swept up in it and then things had gotten weird, as they always did in South Park. People began overreacting, he was suddenly being accused of having favorites, friends were turning on one another until finally he told them all he gave the money to charity.

That, of course, was a big fat lie (he really had his parents put it into an account so that he could use it for college) and things kinda went back to normal with the exception of people ignoring him for about a week.

Perhaps it was winning that little prize that started this whole thing in the first place. During that week of being ignored by everyone outside his family, he encountered a person who had left the town years before hand who was in need of having someone show him around. Desperate at the time for any kind of human warmth, despite the fact this person wasn’t human.

You took whatever you could during those times.

Next thing he knew, he had a new friend and suddenly people stopped ignoring him, whether it was because they were concerned for him or they were afraid of who his new friend was, he wasn’t sure. The fat ass had been involved with that huge mob of pissed off Christians wanting to exorcise his new friend so the whole motive behind that incident was still up in the air.

And if you haven’t guess who that new friend of his was, well then you are a dumbass. How could anyone not figure out it’s Damien, the fucking Antichrist himself?

Okay, so he was fourteen going on fifteen at that time, just about to get out of Middle School and enter High School. His birthday was coming up and all but he wasn’t trying to make a big deal of it. His mother, on the other hand, was. There were also a couple of other circumstances going on, like his father making a payload from a few cases of his and Randy Marsh entering the unemployment line and all and suddenly the Marshs’ were trying to shove him and Stan together, Randy hoping to mooch off his father’s money. And no, it wasn’t a gay relationship thing that Randy was hoping for.

Bottom line, after some more South Park drama and things kinda working their selves out, the friendship that he had with Stan managed to endure somewhat though the fat ass had tried to weasel his way in on the “Jew wealth.” To be perfectly honest, what had gotten him through the ridiculous ordeal was Damien who he kinda used as an outlet for his frustrations. That and Damien turned the fat ass into a human firework for a short time.

Next picture now and boy was this one a dozy. Some sort of combination of weirdness had occurred and suddenly the Woodland Critters that the fat ass had made a story about some years back had gained physical form and wanted to play out the story they were a part of, namely making him the unholy vessel for the Antichrist despite the fact that Damien was already born and had the form of a teenager. To make a long, long story short, Damien flambéed the Critters alive but not before popping his cherry first. Apparently, the spawn of Satan had a thing for redheads chained down to sacrificial alters or something like that.

After that, things kinda went downhill from there. He was fifteen years old, it was the Christmas season so he was once again ignored (surprise, surprise), and he had lost his virginity to an unholy demon whose red eyes haunted him in his dreams. All in all, it wasn’t as bad as it sounded. By the time December 26 arrived, he was much closer to the Antichrist, so much so that now the tables were turning and he was the one who was ignoring his friends.

And they didn’t like it one bit.

The absurd measures they went to, especially Stan, were unbelievable and he could hardly believe it himself when Damien mentioned that it could be that Stan was jealous. Jealous of what? Him? The little, gawky, brainiac Jew? Kenny just seemed to be going along for the ride and the fat ass broke into his house with more frequency. That stopped when Damien lent him his pet poodle, Cerberus; he grew found of that three headed monstrosity after awhile so it was all good.

Meanwhile, a different front was started by his mother who didn’t want him hanging around the Antichrist anymore. Now people said that she was a bitch before but they hadn’t seen anything until the stunts she pulled for this one occurred. Ironically enough, it was Cerberus who got through to her, what with all three heads loving her cooking and whatnot. No more having to use the garbage disposal anymore; big money saver there.

Shutting his eyes and letting the photo album lay there, he took in a deep breath of the hot, sulfuric air. Yes, definitely a good change from the freezing climate of South Park.

It was funny, really, when he found out the reason why Damien had chosen him of all people to hang out with. The Antichrist had made a bet with some dead guy who was trying to get out of torture, the bet being that if Damien couldn’t corrupt a soul destined to go to Heaven, then he would stop the eternal torture permanently for that sole guy.

Apparently, only two groups of people in the world had a one way ticket to the pearly gates regardless of behavior on Earth: Mormons and Jews. Hey, Jews were Jehovah’s chosen people, the very people who he sent Moses to and yadda yadda. Upon learning about this, he had gone straight to the fat ass’s house, pulling Damien along behind him, and gotten so well deserved revenge, taunting that everything that had been said about Jews being Jesus killers were a moot point as he was going to heaven and the fat ass…wasn’t. It also helped that Damien mentioned there was a room already being fitted out just for the fat ass when he died.

Back to him and Damien, though, Kyle found the prospect of going to a heavenly city not very exciting. In some way, finding out that he was going to get into Heaven anyway was more of a downer than an upper. He had the good fortune to be born to the right group and that was all he needed to go on up there? It didn’t seem…fair once he thought about it and he also found that he had grown fond of the Antichrist. Maybe a little bit too fond. Yes, the sex was great and all, but when it came down to it, Damien had been really the only person there for him no matter the time of the year.

So you can guess where he was now.

Hell wasn’t as bad as he had been led to believe. The luaus were pretty fun and he had gotten in touch with his inner sadist once Damien had agreed to let him in on a few of the torture sessions. Yes, the Antichrist had managed to corrupt him but it had taken a contract of sorts to insure that he went down to hell when he died. It was in Hell when he found out about the bet and that resulted in him giving the Antichrist the cold shoulder and blue balls for about a year. Well, a year in Earth time; in Hell, there wasn’t really any time to measure here.

Now, while Damien could have just thrown him into a fiery pit for eternity, he found much to his surprise that the other didn’t do so. In the most clichéd of events, Damien had not only grown fond of him but wanted to keep him as a concubine of sorts. A couple centuries later and the guy was trying to turn him into a demon with his splurge. There was suppose to be some kind of ritual that said that a soul could be evolved into a demon as long as a “higher being” fed him his “essences and juices.”

There had to be something to it since no matter how many times Damien fucked him up the ass did any of his cum ever leak out.

He mewed suddenly as two arms wrapped around his body with a snake-like grace. An iron hard body pressed up against his back, telling the Jew that his immortal lover had slightly changed his form again. A forked tongue found its way around his ear and gently licked at the piece of flesh (or soul, whatever you want to call it) and Kyle shuddered at it. Damien wanted to play some more huh? From the feel of his body, looks like they were going to do a little muscle worship and maybe some fisting. Hmm, what would it take to convince him to do tentacles again? You know, just to lift away the monotony.

He felt a hardened little friend press into the crease of his buttocks and he turned his head around just enough to kiss his dark souled lover. Letting his half-lidded, green eyes darken in lust, he whispered into the thickening air:

“Make me scream…”

A devilish smirk answered him. “As you wish…”

If a picture is worth a thousand words then this had to be two thousand, the majority of them curses and swears.
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