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There had been six kids initially. The faculty picked up on their disappearances fairly quickly given they all happened during the same semester. Different cliques, different ages. No correlation whatsoever, or so it seemed. Mike Makowski was in the poetry club, he went missing first. Ryan Ellis was a theater kid, and Annie Bartlett played tennis. Katie Gelson worked at Raisins under the name ‘Tesla’. Kyle didn’t know much about the other two, sadly.
But when Butters became number seven? The situation hit way too close to home.
Suddenly there were police monitoring the school exits and entrances. Curfews were put in place with patrol scouting every corner. The parents rallied together to obtain search warrants for local sex offenders living in the area in the hopes of finding a lead. Volunteers conducted search parties at Starks and scoured the worst kinds of websites to see if they were trafficked somehow. The sad fact of the matter was that there were no clues to find. Nothing.
Except, well. Kyle remembered Butters getting really sick the day before he went missing. The kind of ‘sick’ where he could feel his fever from across the classroom, taste the nausea stinging the back of his throat, and sense the sweat gathering at his neck and hands. Stan had called him out on it at lunch, telling him to go to the nurse before he got worse.
Butters just laughed. Didn’t say another word for the rest of the day. The next morning? He was gone.
Kyle wondered if the nurse’s log would have reflected the same trend. Did the other six get sick before they went missing too, or was that a coincidence? Whatever the case may be, he needed to find an answer and fast.
Because late that night, Kyle discovered Cartman passed out cold on his front lawn.
Thankfully he wasn’t all the way gone, otherwise Kyle wouldn’t have been able to drag his fat ass to the couch. Once Cartman was settled, Kyle could finally sort out the frantic thoughts whirling through his head and rounded off, furiously, “Stop the bullshit, I can’t tell whether you’re being serious or not.”
Cartman groaned, elbows to knees with his head in his hands. “Does it look like I’m acting? How does one fake their skin going fucking pallid, Kyle? Explain that to me.”
Kyle maintained his distance, unsure if Cartman had been infected with the same contagion that dispatched their mutual friend. “So what happened to you? And where’s Butters?”
“I’m going to lay down, if you don’t mind.” Cartman slumped over and shoved a decorative pillow under his head. “I can’t fucking think straight. I haven’t eaten in days.”
“Uh huh.” Kyle crossed his arms, glaring. “It’s also been 'days' since Butters went missing.”
Cartman didn’t respond right away, didn’t even look at Kyle as he smiled derisively and shook his head. “Just forget about him, okay? He’s gone, just like the rest of them.”
Kyle's look of annoyance disappeared in an instant, replaced instead with an undeniable look of dread. “Rest of who?
“Who do you think?” The resting boy blurted out and placed a restless hand over his forehead. “The rest of the missing students. What, did you think this was all unrelated?”
Kyle swallowed, eyes wide and unblinking. “Wait, what do you know about the missing students?”
“Hm.” Cartman huffed. “Come here.”
“What are you going to do.”
“Come here , Kyle.” He demanded, extending his own arm out to beckon his rival closer. “Do you want to find out or what?”
To say Kyle was apprehensive would be an understatement. However, his curiosity bested his better judgment and he found himself taking a single, cautionary step forward, testing the waters for any traps.
“Give me your hand.” Cartman instructed, still reaching out to him.
Second step. “What are you going to do -”
Before Kyle could take a third, Cartman reached out and snatched one of his wrists, tugging him forward until his fingers were pressed deep against his thick neck.
Whatever sound of shock or protest Kyle wanted to make in retaliation shriveled and died when another, more horrifying realization overtook him as he checked frantically for what should have been there under his fingertips but evidently, was not.
Eric Cartman did not have a pulse.
“Oh my god, Cartman.” Kyle snapped his hand away and searched for his phone. “You need to go to a hospital!”
“It’s too late for that.” Cartman dismissed with a passive wave. “Butters got to me and before I even knew what had happened, I'd turned.”
“Turned?” Kyle asked, still unable to find his phone. “Turned into what?!”
“I don’t know.” Cartman shrugged, eyes distant and gazing up at the ceiling. “What I do know is that even a whiff of my mom’s cooking makes me nauseous now. I wish he had just drained me and finished the job. This is no way to fucking live.”
The more Kyle listened, the more he found himself morbidly curious about the rest. Forgoing the hunt for his phone, he stood with his back against his television and asked, “Drained you?”
“If you don’t drain them all the way, this is what happens.” Cartman motioned to his face and skin. “You only need to get infected, whether by the Anne Rice method or just the act of being bitten.”
At the mention of the famous fictional author, Kyle unexpectedly felt this whole thing become ridiculous as he responded, flatly, “Anne Rice. So you’re a vampire now.”
“What else would I be?” Cartman sat up and motioned towards the second floor. “Butters crept into my room, bit me, hardly drained me at all , then threw up on my floor before leaping back out the window.
Kyle peered up the stairs towards his own room, his breathing picking up pace from all this new and troubling information. “This is…” He shook his head, settling on a decision and sticking with it. “Cartman, we should really get you to a hospital. Even if you are a ‘vampire’, you need help.”
“I don’t think so, Kyle.” Eric responded, tilting his head to one side. “Unless they’re willing to part with some blood pouches, I doubt there’s anything they can give me that could help now.”
“Well let’s go get you some blood pouches then!” Kyle argued on his way over to the couch.
“Sick, no.” Cartman flinched away from his friend. “I’m not taking some rando’s blood. The last time that happened I got AIDS, remember?”
“Don’t you dare bring that up, not when I’m trying to -help- you, Cartman.” Kyle grabbed a hold of one of Cartman’s arms and attempted to yank him onto his feet. “That’s why you were unconscious outside my house, right? You wanted help?”
Cartman watched on in bittersweet amusement as Kyle carried out his futile attempt at getting him off the couch. “Yeah. I want help alright.”
Darkness.
Before Kyle could register what had happened, Cartman’s arm was out of his grip and his living room had gone pitch black. Whether time had glitched or an electric fuse had burst, Kyle found himself frighteningly unable to make sense of this harrowing situation, or how to find a safe way out.
“Cartman, stop that. Was that you who just turned out the lights?” Kyle called out, trying to eliminate one of the variables at least. “How did you move off the couch so fast?”
Nothing. Kyle was met with the sound of absolute silence. No cars outside, no snoring upstairs. Eying the direction of the front door, he side-stepped over one foot at a time in case things took a sudden turn for the worse. “Say something, Cartman. You’re freaking me out.”
“ He should have just fucking killed me .” A low groan came from the corner of the room.
Kyle felt a shiver run up his spine. “Cartman, you’re scaring me.”
“I scare myself!” The voice sounded up again, closer this time. “Do you know that I can smell your fear? Not only that, but your adrenaline, your sweat, your blood.”
“Stop. I’m not going to let you do this.” Kyle instinctively covered his neck with his hands, refusing to let Cartman torment him any further. Vampire or not. “I don’t know what kind of mass psychosis has a hold over the lot of you, but you’re not passing on whatever illness you have over to me. My immune system is shit anyway, I might not survive it!”
“Well technically you wouldn’t survive it anyway.” The voice said, now off to his side. As if the bastard was circling him. “You felt it, I don’t have a fucking pulse.”
Upon hearing the voice again, Kyle remembered that this 'ominous presence' was merely -Cartman- of all people. Pussy ass Cartman who crumpled at one good hit to the face. Memories of such easy victories brought Kyle an immense amount of relief, enough to make him boldly joke, “Maybe it was just buried underneath all that fat.”
A pause, then a sigh. “Ah, listen to you. Even in the face of death you jest so openly.”
CRASH.
The attack happened so suddenly that Kyle felt the wind get knocked out of his chest, his lungs struggling for another breath as he thrashed and kicked to free himself out of Cartman’s unworldly strength.
When that wouldn’t work, Kyle tried pounding and clawing at his arms, commanding, “Let me go, Cartman. It sucks that this happened to you, but I don’t want any part of it. I like being alive.”
Cartman hummed in agreement, completely unaffected by his kitty scratches. “I liked being alive too. I liked being able to eat my favorite foods and going out in the sun. I liked it when I only had to think about when my next meal would be, not who my next meal would be.”
Kyle shuddered at the mention of ‘who', growing more and more desperate the longer he remained trapped. His frightened voice betrayed his resolve as he practically cried out, “I know you’re upset that this happened to you, but don’t take it out on me! I had nothing to do with it, Cartman. Please, just let me go!”
At the sound of Kyle’s pathetic begging, Cartman felt his knees go weak as his undead heart began to palpate, nuzzling his cheek against the back of his prey’s mess of red curls, comforting, “Shh calm down. You’re getting this all wrong, Jewface. Come on, let’s lie down for a second and just reconvene here.”
Cartman practically dragged Kyle back over to the couch, resting against the same decorative pillow with the other teen's back pressed against his chest. “There, now you can rest against me. Your heart’s racing a mile a minute.”
Kyle tried slipping out from under his assailant's arms this time. “I don’t want to be a vampire, Cartman.”
Yet Cartman simply readjusted and brought Kyle up even closer this time, his stale breath hitting the back of his warm, inviting neck. “So you believe me now.”
“It’s not humanly possible to amass that much strength within a matter of days,” said Kyle.
“Right.” Cartman grinned, a flash of his deadly sharp canines reflecting off a stray beam of moonlight. “Well, I’m glad you’re starting to see the big picture.”
Kyle whipped his head around, glaring up at his captor. “I don’t know if I’d go so far to say that.”
“Well then let me just cut to the chase then.” Cartman reached up to start stroking Kyle’s hair, burying his face in the thick of it for the full effect. “The way that I see it? You have two options, Kyle.”
“Help you or kill you?” Kyle grumbled, not surprised that Cartman went for his hair this early but nevertheless disturbed. “I’d -like- to help you, but you’re making it extremely difficult. I’m starting to lean towards the latter.”
“Oh you’re still helping me, make no mistake.” Eric shot up, going back to simply stroking his hair as he spoke, “There’s nothing in this room that could kill me anyway.”
“I could scream,” Kyle threatened.
Cartman hummed in concurrence and pressed his lips to the side of Kyle’s head, taunting, “You saw how fast I turned off the lights. I’d drain you before you even got a chance to open your pretty mouth.”
Kyle outright whimpered, flailing once before attempting to wrangle free again. “Why me, Cartman? What, is it because you hate me?
“Quite the opposite.” Cartman replied with an unusual softness, adjusting his grip after each twist and turn Kyle threw at him. “There are very few people that I’d want to spend the rest of eternity with.”
Clamping his eyes shut, Kyle switched gears and twisted himself around until he was pressed against Cartman's front, only opening his eyes to stare directly into his ghoulish, undead soul. “You, Eric Cartman, are literally the last person on Earth whom I’d want to spend the rest of eternity with.”
Unfortunately it had the opposite effect, Cartman essentially swooning as he gazed back into Kyle's eyes as though he just confessed his undying devotion to him. “Precisely.”
Gritting his teeth, Kyle braced himself against the other teen and reiterated, “Two options, let me guess– vampire or death.” He puffed out a laugh, the answer coming to him naturally. “Fine, Death. I would rather die than play ‘Louis and Lestat’ with you forever.”
“Don’t be like that.” Cartman sneered and batted at Kyle’s cheek.
“Be like what? Truthful?” Kyle backed away from Cartman’s touch. “I’d rather DIE than be a vampire, Cartman! If I have two options then that’s the option I’m going to pick!”
A long silence fell between them, Kyle maintaining his furious glare and Cartman outright refusing to meet it.
After another minute or two of this, Kyle felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach as a devastating thought occurred to him. “There were never two options, weren’t there.”
Cartman simply grimaced.
The denial stage was over, and in its place, Kyle was overcome with a fury unlike any he had experienced before. A surge of rage that his life depended on as it radiated from his glare and seethed from his gnashed, grinding teeth.
"If you turn me?" Kyle started with a thrash to his left. "I will make it my undead life’s mission to destroy you– and not quickly either. I’ll find an empty well to throw you in with an iron grate on top. And when the sun rises? You’ll burn, slow, leaving nothing but ashes." Kyle spat out as his eyes bore holes into Cartman's thick skull, wishing he actually did have eye lasers. "Just like Kirsten Dunst, is that what you want, Fatass?"
Cartman soaked up Kyle's rage like a sponge, loving every second of those livid green eyes focused only on him. In between Kyle's thrashes, he actually dared to comb his fingers through his wild red hair again, stealthily exposing what he intended to claim in the first place. "Ever the dramatic one."
Having enough of this obsessive bullshit, Kyle tried jerking his head in the other direction to gain back some semblance of autonomy, inadvertently exposing the other side of his neck in an unintentional, gorgeous display. "I mean it! If you think this is going to be some gay ass partnership, you’re wrong! I hate you now, but you don’t even know the level I’m going to hate you if you go through with this."
"Yeah, that’s something I’m just going to have to deal with," Cartman's voice trailed off, visibly distracted. All his attention was zeroed in on a particularly tempting spot halfway up the right side of Kyle's neck, beautifully revealed during that last desperate flail. When he caught himself gawking, he shook himself out of it and confessed, "The truth is, Kyle, I can’t have you living out a normal, mortal life while I’m stuck here in this hell. It’s impossible. The moment Butters turned me into this, he might as well have turned you too."
Cartman's words only half registered in Kyle's brain, because the moment he realized what that son of a bitch was staring at, all he could think to do was - run -.
And run he did.
Call it adrenaline, call it anything that fits the bill. When Kyle sensed that his life was truly and undoubtedly in danger, he managed to muster up the perfect amount of strength to break out of Cartman's grip and fling himself over the couch. The moment his feet hit the floor, he sprinted to the door in a mad frenzy, eyes trained on the prize as he reached out to grab the handle.
Only to feel the whole of his body fall to the carpet and a cold palm pressed to his mouth.
Kyle screamed into Cartman's meaty hand. If he was going to die anyway, he might as well sound the alarms. His parents were right upstairs, one good scream is all it would take for this to end. Hell, why stop there? Kyle opened his mouth again, but instead of screaming, he chomped down on whatever flesh he could manage, tearing into skin and flesh without regard.
"You can gnash my hand all you want, Jewface." Cartman snarled, locking their limbs together on the living room floor. "The more of my blood you ingest, the more it'll help later."
Repulsed, Kyle abruptly retracted off of Cartman's hand and spit out any lingering taste of tainted blood on his tongue.
Yet Cartman kept his hand pressed firm, untrusting of his prey now as he leaned in to whisper a brutal warning, "Scream again though, and I'm going to tell you what'll happen– your parents will run down the stairs, where I will drain them completely , and I'll still turn you into my fledgling before the night's end. One situation leaves Ike some family, one option leaves him none. Your call."
At the mention of his younger brother, Kyle finally felt himself crumble to pieces, physically falling limp into Cartman's grasp as the futility of his predicament dawned on him. His parents didn't deserve to die. Ike didn't deserve to be orphaned, again. Cartman was only after one person, so why involve others?
When Cartman felt Kyle’s dead weight slump into his arms, he beamed. His fangs on full, bright display as he reveled in the experience of actually feeling the moment Kyle submitted to his fate. If his expression didn't give away his obvious arousal, his rock-hard erection certainly did.
"I’m going to take my hand away. You're not going to scream, are you?"
Kyle reluctantly shook his head, a tear escaping the corner of his eye as he did so.
The moment Cartman released his mouth, Kyle flipped himself onto his back and gripped onto the other's shoulders, pleading, "What do I need to say for you to not do this? I’ll do anything you want, Cartman."
To emphasize his point, Kyle sensually slipped his fingers over the length of Cartman's silk tie and unbuttoned the top of his dress shirt. "You can literally do anything you want to me on that couch, and I’ll participate gladly if it means you'll let me live."
Knowing this might be his only shot at mortality, Kyle gazed up at him through half-lidded eyes and lowered his voice to a level of sultry that he had never used before in his tragically young life. "I see the way you look at me, and don't think for a second I didn't notice how hard you got just now. I know you want it, so I’m giving it to you! Just spare me, Cartman. Please!"
Now this was unexpected. Cartman knew Kyle would put up one hell of a fight, but he never considered the tables being turned this way– mostly because Cartman himself didn't realize until fairly recently that he did want Kyle this way. The fact that Kyle was not only aware of his predilection, but was willing to use it against him threw Cartman back quite a ways away, so much so that he found himself heavily considering taking Kyle up on that irresistible offer.
Until he remembered it was all for show. Thinking with your dick only got you so far. Still, that was a great play. Credit where credit was due.
Exhaling in amusement, Cartman slipped his arms under Kyle's shoulders and effortlessly picked him up off the ground. "And what does it tell you that I’d rather pass on your -sweet- ass than to go about this undead life without your -sorry- ass around? Even if it will cause you to despise me more than you do now."
Kyle saw that Cartman was still taking him to the couch and slammed a retaliatory fist against his chest. "Put me down, I can’t mean that much to you. Not after all you've put me through!"
Cartman only offered a morose laugh, calmly sitting back against the sofa with the object of his obsession held firmly in his arms. "You have no idea, Kyle."
There were no escape routes to fall back on. No remnants of energy left within him to fight with. If that was Cartman's plan all along, then he might as well have succeeded right then and there. Little was left inside Kyle's personal arsenal of tools to use against Eric Cartman, but there still was something left.
"Well then," Kyle muttered, curling up against his captor and resting his head against his shoulder. "If it's like that ? Like, if you really loved me, Cartman, then you wouldn’t go through with this. You wouldn't want to do something against my will and make me hate you, like really hate you, forever. In this case, literally forever."
Wincing, Cartman did his best to brush away the emotional pain that Kyle was purposely inflicting upon him and instead focused on the task at hand. "Too bad it’s more complicated than that ," he responded before cradling the side of Kyle's head. "Relax, okay?"
No. Time couldn't have run out. There had to be something left, some trick he could use. Though his thrashing had grown considerably weaker, he still managed to keep Cartman's face at arm's length. "How could you expect me to relax?"
Cartman growled and hastily folded Kyle's arms back down against his heaving chest, using one of his own arms to hold them in place. With their hands so close, he felt their fingers brush against each other and intertwined them in an attempt to calm him. "I don't want to hurt you."
Tear stricken, Kyle leaned his head forward and frantically nuzzled the side of his murderer's face, crying, "Please don't do this, Eric ."
At the sound of his name, Cartman experienced the entirety of his pent-up emotional pain all at once and belted out a half-snarl, half-sob. "Don’t make this harder than it needs to be."
With their faces now cheek to cheek, Cartman peered down at Kyle's pale and vulnerable neck and realized that he had arrived at the golden opportunity. Offering his friend another comforting nuzzle or two, he stealthily slid his free hand over to the side of Kyle's face as he hovered his lips into position. Then, before his prey caught wind of his true intentions, Cartman slipped his hand back over Kyle’s mouth before driving two holes into the side of his neck.
Kyle shrieked out in pain. Not just from the bite, but from the sheer amount of anguish he felt upon realizing Cartman was about to go through with this crime. There was a good chance he was going to die tonight. Not only die, but turn undead and lose whatever soul he might have possessed.
Overhead, Cartman released an involuntary moan as he firmly planted his mouth over the gushing wound, swallowing each mouthful of blood as though it was the nectar from the gods. Truthfully, it might as well have been– his night vision improved, and his senses sharpened with every helping. The sluggish lull from before faded away and in its place, raw power.
Craving more, Cartman savagely drove his fangs back into the same spot as before and dug deeper, eliciting another pained scream from Kyle as he laid helplessly in his lap. He wondered if his palm was muffling Kyle enough or if he'd have to take down the whole Broflovski family after all. Ten minutes ago that would have been a challenge. After this meal? No problem.
Sensing the side of his neck go numb and tingly, Kyle tried everything in his power to stop the blood from leaving his body. Evidently clinging onto the stages of bargaining and depression, he imagined that he could somehow will his blood away from the wound so that Cartman couldn't drink it up. That comforted him for a gulp or two, but when his head started to grow foggy and his vision began spinning, Kyle experienced his first round of grief brought on by the deep, but unshakable recognition that he was truthfully, and undeniably about to die.
". . . eric," Kyle whispered softly against the oppressive hand, knowing his assailant would hear him. "you're killing me."
And he was right. Cartman did hear him and he was killing him, but his gluttonous hunger wouldn't allow him to respond, still drawing mouthful after mouthful to his undead heart's content. The most he could do is remove the hand from Kyle's mouth, figuring now he was too weak to scream.
"i never thought you actually wanted to kill me." Kyle spoke into the open air. "i thought our friendship meant something to you."
Cartman groaned in protest, finding that whole line of thinking incredibly insensitive to someone put in his position.
"you said you can't live out your undead life without me." Kyle snickered deliriously, now combing his fingers through Cartman's hair as he vowed, "i swear, Eric, i'm going to make you regret ever knowing me. you think you know pain? you think you know anguish? you don't know shit. i am going to drive you out of your god damn mind."
Finally unlatching from Kyle's neck, Eric scrubbed his mouth clean with the back of his hand and grumbled, "you already drive me fucking insane, and fuck you for thinking that I wanted to kill you. I didn't want this, I want you."
"and now you have me." Kyle declared as though it were a threat, staring daggers at him all the while. "go ahead, Eric. do it."
Cartman hesitated. He didn't like the way Kyle was looking at him, as if he knew something he didn't. Before doing anything , however, he leaned down and ran his tongue over the mark he made, sucking up one last mouthful of whatever Kyle's dangerously low blood pressure would allow.
Savoring every last drop of it, he swallowed it down only once the taste resembled more plasma than platelets. He imagined how Kyle would handle his first meal and laughed fondly at the thought.
"What would happen if I just died like this, like right now." Kyle asked, still looking for ways out.
"Then you would die." Cartman replied before bringing the fatty part of his hand up to his teeth and biting down. Yet before he could bring it to Kyle's mouth, he felt a trembling hand smooth under his jawline, caressing him steadily as a weak voice murmured from below.
"You could let me die, right now. You could let me die and I'd forgive you." Kyle didn't have enough blood to keep up his ministrations, his arm falling weakly to the side as he continued, "I know you need to feed, and I know you don't want to go about this alone. Those are all things I can forgive, so consider that. Because if you turn me? You'll only have yourself to blame when I break you."
Kyle locked eyes with Cartman, making sure he was looking straight at him as he finished, "and I will break you."
Cartman scowled, taking that as a challenge more than anything. "I'm about to do you a solid. This next hour is crucial - if you die before the venom infects you, then you're dead. If the venom infects you before you die? You turn. Unfortunately, the amount of venom you get determines how slow your 'undeath' is."
He pointed angrily at the mark on his neck, "Fucking Butters, drained me so little that I was able to walk it off, but his fucking vampire germs still got into my blood stream from the bite and it took all day to turn."
Sighing, Cartman gingerly cupped the back of Kyle's head with one hand and rested the bleeding one against his blueing lips. "The more you drink, the quicker it'll go. You're already infected, and you're not far enough gone to die."
"I'll take my chances." Kyle spoke through gritted teeth, refusing to open his mouth to let any of that ichor in.
"God damn it Kyle, stop being so stubborn!” Cartman almost shouted before he remembered who was sleeping upstairs. Quieting down, he tried edging his hand in between Kyle’s lips to see if the stuff could at least drip through. “Any other time and I'd adore you for it, but not tonight, not when the stakes are this high."
But Kyle didn’t budge, keeping his tongue far back in his mouth and away from anything that could have pooled over.
Growing anxious, Cartman racked his brain for a way to expedite this process in order to avoid even the slightest chance of Kyle dying before the venom took effect. He already threatened his family, who else did he hav-
Oh. Right.
Grinning wickedly, Cartman proceeded to massage Kyle’s head a couple times before spieling on, "What do I have to do, huh? Go drain Stan after this?”
Kyle’s already ragged breath hitched.
“You know I'll do it, and he won't stand a fucking chance.” Cartman’s eyes narrowed. “There's no way you could fend me off in your current state, but you might have a chance of saving your super best friend if you’re a v-"
Warm lips surrounded the curve of his palm, practically sucking down anything that managed to pour out of his self-inflicted bite wound. Yet when the transformation wasn’t moving fast enough for Cartman’s liking, he returned his injured hand back up to his mouth and dug his fangs into his wrist this time, trying to achieve an active flow for maximum effect.
By the time Kyle latched onto Cartman’s wrist, something had clearly changed within him. Just a minute ago, he was too weak to even lift up an arm, but now he was sitting up taking mouthfuls of the stuff. At this rate, Cartman would have to go hunting again to make up for the loss.
“Alright Kyle, I think that’s enough.” He tried yanking his arm away, but Kyle had a tight grip on him, an almost otherworldly grip.
“Lay off, Kyle! I’m going to need some of that!” Cartman outright snatched his arm back, but had to use his full strength to do so.
With nothing left to feast on, Kyle wheezed a labored breath and recoiled in on himself. No matter how many breaths he took, none of them seemed to fill his lungs. Not only that, but his stomach began to cramp as though it had turned to stone, making it that more difficult to breathe. Sweat then started to leak out of every pore, as though his body knew that resources had run dry and all that remained was pure adrenaline.
Observing intently, Cartman stroked Kyle’s back in one smooth motion and encouraged, “Alright, now all you need to do is let it consume you. Give into it.”
Give into it? Kyle thought to himself, his paralyzed lungs not allowing for any kind of speech. Give into what? Death? Is that what this creeping sensation was? Spreading from his gut to his chest and now crawling up his spine? How in the hell was he supposed to ‘give into’ that?
Just then, the answer became clear. When the pain became all too much, and his brain had become too starved of oxygen, Kyle finally released control and collapsed lifelessly into Cartman’s awaiting arms.
The first change was to his neck wound- the skin and flesh repairing itself until all that remained were two dark indentations, a birthmark that would stay with him until his second death. The rest of the changes spread out from there; his skin became unblemished, his curly hair grew thick and lustrous, and his eyes shone brighter than they ever had before. They reflected off the moonlight like glistening emeralds, never losing their glow as he effortlessly gazed around the dark room, viewing the world as a vampire for the very first time.
Before he committed to this plan, Cartman had a suspicion that Kyle’s vampire form would be pretty freaking hot, but he didn’t expect him to be, quite literally, the most gorgeous thing he had ever laid eyes on. Sitting there awestruck, Cartman felt as though he were in the presence of something ethereal, where one false move would shatter the illusion and snap him back to reality.
But it truly was a fledgling Kyle that Cartman had nestled in his arms. This indeed was reality.
Most of all who knew this was Kyle, who pieced together rather quickly what must have happened and who there was to blame. Lowering his eyelids, he side-eyed Cartman and sneered, baring his newly grown fangs as he hissed, “I warned you.”
There was no time to react, no time to ask questions, and no time to speculate. Cartman could only hum out in surprise as Kyle crashed their lips together, responding eagerly with every shred of want and desire that he had harbored since childhood.
For Kyle, however, it wasn’t lust that motivated him, no. It was Wrath. He kissed him with a ferocity that promised torture and despair. For you see, Kyle learned long long ago that the best way to break Cartman wasn’t to merely deprive him, no.
You let him have his dream first.