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For Butters Stotch, growing up was always difficult. In his first years, he’s supposed to frolic outside, and he absolutely adored doing so, but he was always dragged back inside by his parents and their groundings. Bother of their voices, especially his father’s, were as harsh as deep winter winds when they caught him at his most “unfortunate,” almost punishing him for the naivety of childhood even though he knew no other life. After the punishment though, his parents, especially his father, would soothe and coddle him, treating him to his favorite snacks, movies and Bennigan’s, not really apologizing but rather immersing him in the life he should get to have until the next ugly scene rears its head.
As a kid, Butters is supposed to play with friends, but his always stood several steps ahead in both knowledge and size, mocking him for being so foolish and not as “developed” as they proudly were as their arguments and antics slowly devolved into fistfights, cuss words and shit-flinging (Being a kid, Butters was supposed to say poop-flinging, but shit was the grown-up word his friends forced him to say). Regardless of their insults, Butters liked the other boys and their times together, regularly striving to meet them at their level, but the level was always changing and it always got him into trouble. “Too childish” and “Inappropriate” were the regular terms both adults and other children used to describe his blunders, no matter how innocent and well-intentioned.
Another tragedy was when he did get “growing up” right, the whole lesson of the thing slipped away from him, like a snowflake melting in his smooth, little palms. Graduating fourth grade. Kissing a girl. Selling vape pens. Working a job. Masturbating for the first time, through the pain and embarrassment. All that and he is still in the same place where he started. Still the same thing that both his parents and friends hated: a stupid kid with nothing.
A whole, tragic mess of mixed messages with him trapped right in the middle, cutting through the noise with a smile, always hard-won despite the ease with which it appears. Heck, years later, they still call him Butters instead of the formal “Leopold” or even more adult and nice-sounding “Leo,” so maybe the whole problem is with them. Even his parents call him the nickname all the kids gave him back in kindergarten. Whatever though. He’ll still smile.
To protect himself, Butters’ special little mind developed a special lens to look through the world, a thoughtless unease. A way to always be on-guard in the wide, wild world yet still be bright-eyed and open to the wonders of it all. It’s why he can still smile.
For good and sadly for ill, Butters has always carried that thoughtless unease with him, even to a party deep in the South Park woods. A birthday celebration for Clyde, the cool kid so cool that he managed to steal a whole box of beers that got all the boys and girls hopped up and hollering through the moonless dark. Tonight, Clyde is thirteen-years-old.
Butters was only twelve, and is just happy to here, standing around the birthday bonfire, blazing unseen by any proper adult able to stop it. Of course, wanting to grow up, he had a sip of beer gifted to him by the ever-cool and generous Clyde. The best he could describe the drink and its effect is “buzzy,” and he worked to enjoy it. That work soon brought his closest friend, Kenny McCormick, buzzing right to him in a clumsy, misshapen path, an empty, crushed tin can resting in his vice grip.
Butters’ smile widened seeing him approach, but seeing that awkward walk pushed him to catch Kenny before he could fall. Kenny whooped in thanks, welcoming his large embrace with a nuzzle to the neck.
“Soooo happy you’re here Butters,” he said, words slurring like molasses. “I don’t like Clyde much but I heard he was bringing beer. I like beer and I like you, so I’m liking this night a bit more, hahaha.”
Butters could not understand a word of what he said, but he knows happiness, especially when it’s so affectionate and warm. Kenny’s cheeks and nose were a comforting red, and his half-lidded eyes sparkled in the amber glow. “Well sure, Kenny, I like you a whole lot too. I think it’s good Clyde can bring us all together, even though he can be uh,” Butters pauses, preparing himself for a grown-up word that’s sure to raise his friend’s opinion, “uh— A real dick.”
Kenny howled and cuddled in closer, hands wandering across Butters’ body, searching for a proper hold. He must be feeling a whole lot more than buzzy, he thinks, so he raises his arm underneath Kenny’s shoulder and carries him to the base of a thick tree a few yards away from the bonfire.
“Y-you don’t like beer, Ken, you absolutely love it. Like a mistress you sure do,” he chuckles, setting the boy down. He remember that Kenny was thirteen now too. How humorous for him to be the one stand and sit properly. Could this instance of “growing up” be recognized? Probably not. Share the whole scene with others and kids would call him gay and his parents will ground him for a whole month (A punishment reserved for the worst offenses and what’s worse than a twelve-year-old drinking alcohol?) He decides this will have to be a private pleasure, and he chuckles to himself again. “I’ve only just had the top quarter of my can, and it’s pretty nice. I can see why Clyde would want to p-party with it, hehe.”
Hearing that, Kenny flailed his arms towards Butters. With a wavy smile, he moans, “G-Give me, please, Butters. I only had one and it feels good but I want to feel the best.” He leaned forward and could have gotten on his knees if he had the strength and coordination.
The words still came out as a baffling blur for Butters, but he recognized greed just as well as joy. The boy was, of course, perturbed by the request. He pulled his own can, still slick with cold, behind his back. “N-Now why the heck should I do that, Ken,” Butters asked, incredulous.
“Because I’m hot and it’ll fuckin’ cool me off, Butters,” he answers, his back writhing against the tree trunk. "Because you’re cool and because…” He smirks. “It’s an adult thing to do.”
Couldn’t argue with that logic. He sure does want to grow, and giving always feels nice. Butters acquiesces the wet tin can and it quickly slips into Kenny’s grasp.
“Y-you’re the best, dude. I l-l-love you! Ha!”
His friend blushes pink. Kenny will surely need to be the center of his attention for the rest of the night, thinks Butters, kneeling down. He watches the poor kid drink the whole thing down, neck as thin and veiny as a willow branch pulsing with each gulp. Of all the luck, his own throat and lips start to feel dry, almost thirsty for something. That feeling crawled down his chest and threatens to reach for his thighs, tempting him to make his own moans. He comes in close to Kenny, scanning him further. Gauging for a reaction as Kenny sipped the last drop. Waiting for… something, no matter how much it hurt or twisted inside him.
The price of being an adult, surely.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kenny could see the hunger in Butters’ eyes. Those wide sky-blue saucers, one half-dim from the scar of long-ago accident, stared at him and he could see a whole galaxy within the pupils. Staring back, especially in that clouded left eye, a mix of humor and guilt builds within his mind. On his hands and knees, Butters drew in closer, the naive boy’s mouth hanging open, looking parched. Too drunk to be scared or appropriately uncomfortable, Kenny decides to mess with him instead. He raises his left leg, rubbing his knee against Butters’ torso. An evocative move for sure, but Kenny performed it with a calm confidence he’s spent years mastering in his poor, stressful life. Facing empty plates on the table and the specter of homelessness above his head is nothing compared to playing with the feelings and body of another guy.
He catches a shiver crawl along that body and stifles and laugh. “Thank you so so so much, Butters,” he says, words still slurring.
“You’re a very good friend. I really am happy you’re here. Knowing Clyde, I wasn’t sure he’d even invite you.” Tipsy as he was, he held full knowledge of what he did, but it was so fun to see him squirm.
As if crashing back into the present, Butters shook his head and replied, “Why sure, Ken. S-sorry for getting too close. Wanted to make sure you felt alright. Don’t want you to die at Clyde’s party, you know? I’ll get back to the others see if we can sing.”
Visibly ashamed, Butters tries to scramble backwards, but Kenny raises his other leg and traps him between two rotating caps massaging his sides. In the glow of that distant fire, the boy blushes and struggles to keep in the moans begging for release.
Teasing further, Kenny says “I’m feeling good, but you being here will make me better. Trust me.” A little mockery transformed into all-in flirting, and he wants to go all-in. “I know it’s not our birthdays, but like, hear me out. What if it was?”
Holding onto tat uneasy naivety, Butters plays along, his face growing closer to Kenny’s. “Well, it was your birthday I’d surely say ‘H-happy birthday,’ and then I’d ask what you want.” He gulps. “What do you want?”
Kenny raises his arms, light as noodles, and drapes them across Butters’ shoulders. Answering the question, he pulls Butters down and their foreheads touch. His breathes were soft, heavy with anticipation, while Kenny’s were steamy, fast-paced bursts, driven by a joyfully drunken adrenaline. Both of them were warm in the forest. Whatever they knew at that fire, so far from now, just washed away, and now the only things they wished to truly know were one another. They kissed.
Butters goes slack and finally lands atop Kenny, leaning against that solitary tree and the cold earth. Kenny takes in the weight, the air entering his mouth and how full it all makes him feel. It’s like a floodgate opened and he releases all of his affection, all the good he’s had the past few months, and focuses all of it towards the boy he’s always seen smiling despite the darkness and mockery this goddamn town put him through. Whether using his body like this was more for Butters’ benefits or his, he couldn’t say, but all he cared for was just expressing a long-held desire, to hell with the time or circumstance.
Their lips came apart and they stared into each other again through such different eyes. “H-happy birthday, then,” mutters Butters, and they both laugh in their private little world. Kenny runs his hand through Butters’ mop of bright blonde just to enjoy the sense of each strand between his fingertips.
“I really do like you Butters,” he says with some clarity. “Guess it’s only when I’m like this that I can be honest about that.”
Shocked by such a casual admission, Butters could only ask, “How come?”
Kenny twisted his tongue in his cheek, thinking. Eventually his consciousness just flowed out in a heartfelt stream. “I think it came about on its own, ever since we met. You lit my feelings by just being you more than anything. Kind, open and vulnerable to a fault, even when you get ripped to shreds for it. Like, you’ve been friendly to legit predators, man. We’re all surprised you’ve even made it this far.” Butters couldn’t help but pout at that, but he let Kenny continue. His hand moves from his hair to his left eye, where he runs a finger down the thin scar between his brow and his cheek. “I was never… like that for anyone outside of my family. The other guys crap on me all the time, whether by being poor or doing something weird, and I just have to shut up afterwards, but you never do. You’ve never ripped on anyone either. You’re like, incapable of it. That got some admiration. Then, it got me curious, so I had to see how you can live. What makes you so nice. After that, I just started liking you more. I think the way you are is great, besides your parents. Ha.”
Despite the good humor, Kenny watched Butters get scared and immediately cursed himself. “I-I should get back to them then, now that you mention it. I don’t want to get in trouble again.” The shame returned, and he had to drag him out of it.
“Hold on, hold on.” Kenny keeps him close before their bodies could separate. “Listen to what I say. Your parents fucking suck, Butters. They’re worse than mine. They got a house and good jobs, everything mine could wish for, but they’re so goddamn miserable. They hide it behind their anger, but they unleash that misery on you. All the others see it yet they don’t do a single thing to help. Here and now, I am. So damn your parents, buddy. To hell with Clyde and his punk ass. Damn them all to hell and kiss me again.”
Butters listens, and he does, this time with a lot more force, their tongues intertwining. It is only when both of them get close to drowning that their lips disconnect. They take in the chill air and the enormity of their joining together. It’s overwhelming for a boy on the cusp of finally growing up, but for a poor kid far more experienced in the pains of life, the real joy is watching a naive innocent embrace the experience. Both of their hearts are full of light.
Feeling all light and aflutter, Butters rests his head on Kenny’s chest, rising and falling like the gentlest waves. All goes quiet in their world, but their bodies still hum with energy. The two boys want to just stay still and wait for what happens next, but only Kenny recognizes the only way forward. He takes action with the softest words.
“If it was your birthday, Butters, he starts, offering a sly smirk, "I know exactly what I’d give you, and even though you don’t know it, you’ve been waiting for it ever since the start of the year. You ever hear of your cherry?”
Clearly confused, Butters says, “I know cherries. Tasted them in fact. Very sweet. Unless you’re talking about some new lingo.”
Another laugh from Kenny sets the scene. “Nah, I mean something extra special.” He drags his hands down Butters’ body until he hooks his fingers into the band of his pants. Remember that time when the guys and I had you pull your weiner out? It’s gonna be like that, but it’ll feel so much better.” Grinning, he starts to pull down, taking a pair of underwear along with the denim.
Butters bucks against the movement, slowing him down. “B-but it’s chilly out.”
Kenny almost misses his worry while gazing down at his crotch. The base of the shaft, peeking out from the pulled fabric, was bigger than he expected. He quickly looks back up with bright eyes, wanting to keep the boy reeled in. “Yeah but we’re gonna warm ourselves up. Even warmer than before. Let me tell you what we’re going to do. What you need to do.” Kenny went on explaining, working to keep his excitement tampered down. As he did so, he successfully removed Butters’ bottom clothes, fully exposing Butters’ dick, as swell as he is unassuming. The best circumstance. While he continued to explain and drag his own pants down by pushing his bottom against the ground, Kenny was treated to the pleasant sight of it growing harder and longer, until it lined up with Kenny’s own little behind, perked up and bare.
Butters only had one question. “What if it hurts you, Kenny?”
Completely vulnerable and fully ready, heat rising in his chest, Kenny brushes away that concern. “It’s supposed to hurt at first, but as you go on, I’ll be just as happy as you. I’m ready not Butters… Or should I say Leopold?”
Hearing that name with that smirk propelled Butters forward, and they both moaned from such sudden ecstasy.
If Butters could describe the feeling, it would be like entering the highest comfort, like piercing a heavenly veil to a better way of living. With each thrust, he holds onto that feeling, eyes closed and almost wet with salty tears. He had his hands on the ground to balance himsef, but instincts told him to raise them and place them on Kenny’s chest, heaving with every beat. They travel down until his fingers reach his naked hips, a better position to dig deeper and see the way Kenny, this drunk lover, looked up and “adored” him. Whoever he was before, as well as whatever cruelty awaited him, melted away in this fresh, exhilarating bliss. He sunk deeper into the feeling as Kenny drew his arms back up around those broadening shoulders and pulled him in, nuzzling and breathing down his neck. For Kenny, it was better than any other fuck he had to go through this year. Butters was big enough to make him feel like a virgin again, and, for a first-timer, he somehow knew the right strokes that drove him crazy. His friends have called him a whore and a poor slut, but when loving is this good, he can’t mind the insults. Kenny watched the sweat pool on Butters’ forehead and how his hair bounced with every frantic movement. He looked so cute, so loving. He had enough beer to be open to the idea but remained sober enough to treat him just right. Kenny knew he liked him for a reason.
He speaks up, raising his voice and asks Butters a simple question into his ear. His mind and voice are the clearest the clearest they have ever been.
“Funny thing to ask but, do you think you can sing?” Kenny heaves. Butters is not slowing down. “I love your voice, and I want to hear it. It’s too quiet and too nice a night to just hear huffing and puffing.” He chuckles.
Through it all, Butters hears the request loud and clear, and he dutifully complies, not missing a beat or a hit.
Overall, for both of the boys, it felt so nice and continued into the deep night. The fire behind them, in that place beyond all they cared for, blazed on, and the crescent moon rode the sky, keeping the two in pleasant and obscure darkness.