Grief & Loss

As far as Butters knew, it all started without an ulterior motive.      He was with Eric, standing in his friend’s backyard, looking at him and thinking he had never seen him so sad before. All because Mr. Kitty, the sweet cat who had been with Eric since childhood, had just passed away.   The worst part was that Butters was the only one who had returned to South Park to attend the funeral. The rest of his friends felt too grown-up and mature to get back to the town for a pet's funeral.   As he placed a hand on Eric's shoulder— making him step back to allow Butters to throw dirt over Mr. Kitty's “coffin”—Butters couldn't help but think that at least Kenny should have been there. He didn't expect anything from Stan and Kyle, but Kenny still lived in South Park, so he should have helped them.   Butters truly hated it when Kenny had a girlfriend. Because in those instances, his friend would be so focused on the girl of the moment that nothing else mattered. Later Kenny would apologize, especially after breaking up with said girl. Butters would forgive him and Eric would say he didn’t even miss Kenny. Then Kenny would get another girlfriend, and the cycle would repeat.   Stotch's frustration led him to throw more dirt than necessary onto the shoebox where Mr. Kitty's body lay, and he only snapped out of his episode when Eric stepped in and placed flowers on the soil. He waited for Eric to say a few words. However, minutes passed in silence, both gazing at the freshly dug earth with empty expressions.   "Eric, let's go inside," Butters said when snowflakes began falling and staying there seemed pointless. Remembering. Hoping for a miracle that would bring Mr. Kitty back to life.      Once inside the house, Butters had his friend sit on the living room couch and asked, "Would you like me to make you some tea?" To tell the truth, he didn't know what he should do in a moment like this, but he had seen his mother ask similar questions at other funerals, and he assumed this would be the right action.   "No, sit beside me," Eric replied softly, and Butters obeyed silently. "It's been a long time since I've been alone," Eric continued once he felt Butters' warmth next to him. "Mr. Kitty was always with me. I don't want to be alone."   Mr. Kitty had lived longer than any cat Butters had known, and she had been one of the few constants in Eric's life. It was a surprise to see Eric without Mr. Kitty's company in recent years, so his words were not unexpected.   "She watched TV with me, slept by my side—she wouldn't even let me take a dump alone in the bathroom." Then Eric finally started to cry, and Butters hugged him.   Butters' parents had never allowed him to have a pet other than a hamster, and Butters had never formed a significant bond with any of the rodents. Yet he felt he could empathize with Eric because Butters wouldn't know what to do if he had to say goodbye to a loved one someday. To Eric, for example.   He and Eric had ups and downs, but Eric was one of his favorite people. Since they were kids, it always has been him and Eric against a world that—with each passing year—seemed more challenging, overwhelming, and lonely.   What Butters liked about Eric was that he would never pull out a moral compass and judge him even if he knew Butters' worst personality traits. In return, Butters would never dare to judge Eric either. Such a barrier never existed between them.   "You won't be alone. I'll always be by your side," Butters said as he patted Eric's back.   Long ago, Butters had stopped trying to understand his strong and conflicting feelings for Eric. What he felt was love, but not the conventional one seen on TV, so he wasn't lying when he said he would always be there for Eric. It warmed his heart to be able to say that.   "I would do anything not to see you cry," Butters said over Eric's sobs a few minutes later. "To make missing her hurt less."    His words weren't empty; he really wanted to do something, but he couldn't think of anything. So, fifteen minutes later, when Eric had calmed down, he was surprised to hear him angrily asking, "How do you intend to do that?"   "Do what?"   "Help me not miss Mr. Kitty?"   "I don't—I don't know. We can go to the shelter. Don't feel like you'll be replacing Mr. Kitty. I'm sure she would like to see that you aren't alone without her, and you'll help another cat in need."   Cartman frowned. "My mom says I can't bring home another cat."   "Oh, why?"   "She said she doesn't have money for another pet. If I have money to spare, maybe I should move out or give her some for the household expenses."   "That sounds harsh. Having a cat is not that expensive, but if she's tight on money—"   "It's like she's happy Mr. Kitty is dead. She was just waiting for it."   "That can't be true."   "Mr. Kitty was very special to me and my mom doesn't even want me to have a friend like her in my life again." Eric still had red eyes, giving the impression he was on the brink of tears again, but he held back.   "I wish I could do something. I'm not—I'm not a cat. But I'm your friend; I can be by your side," Butters offered.   "It's not the same." Eric tilted his head and looked at him with half-lidded and annoyed eyes.   "I can try."   "Will you sleep at my feet at night?" he challenged, a little mad because Butters insisted on being the support he couldn't be. "Will you follow me to the bathroom because you can't stand a second without me being by your side? Will you sleep on my lap and let me caress you?"   "I—" Butters thought about all those scenarios and blushed before looking at his friend with determination. "Yo-you know I don't mind resting my head on your lap. The other stuff—I don't mind you caressing me!"   Butters maybe screamed his words. He wasn’t sure. What he was sure of was that his words were met with silence and an inscrutable expression. He started to panic and lost all his courage.   "Eric? I'm sorry; I think I said something too weird. Just forget about it." Butters knew he had messed up—He was an idiot. He shouldn't have opened his mouth—and he was about to get up from the couch, ready to escape, when Eric took his hand.   "OK. I think we can try.” Cartman’s words were met with Butters’ confused expression and silence, so Eric clarified a few seconds later. “You can rest your head on my lap."   Cartman used a very soft tone of voice, and Butters didn't know what to do because Eric being soft was scary. This could be a joke, and if it was, he had no idea what Eric intended to do once he leaned against him and showed vulnerability.   "What are you waiting for?"   "Do you want me to?" Butters hesitated, and Eric rolled his eyes.   "I'm asking you to."   Butters felt his heart race as he gulped. Then he leaned against Eric's lap. At first, his body was tense, but he relaxed after a few seconds. He closed his eyes and focused on feeling his own pulse and breathing.   Then, Cartman raised his right hand and, without hesitation, began to stroke Butters' head. He ran his fingers through the longer strands of his hair, tangling and gently tugging, massaging it.   "Your hair is not as soft as Mr. Kitty's, but this feels right," Cartman said when he seemed to grow tired of stroking Butters' head. "You can be Mr. Kitty's replacement," he decided as if they were discussing anything else before pushing Butters away.   "Oh, okay, of course—" Butters replied, sitting with a completely flushed face. He wasn't sure if what had happened was real.      He didn’t know what he agreed to.        In fact, despite Cartman saying they would keep doing it, Butters didn't believe they would until Cartman sent him a message on Friday morning, ordering him to buy a specific brand of shampoo—to soften his hair—and get ready to go back town and spend the whole weekend with him. His mom was not going to be around.   Butters said yes, as he always did, and soon, he felt Eric's chubby fingers playing with the strands of his hair and even going down to press his cervical area and make circles with his digits at the height of his shoulder blades. The massage felt pleasant, making Butters wish he never had to leave. He was so comfortable that he delayed informing Eric as much as he could that he needed to get up to go to the bathroom.   "Eric," he said with a drowsy voice half an hour later. "I need to go—ah!" he stopped talking because, upon hearing him, Eric tightened his grip on his neck while tugging his hair with the other hand. "What are you doing?!" Butters complained and twisted to break free, but he couldn't escape. Eric was using both hands to keep him in place Once Cartman felt Leopold had given up, he eased the pressure a bit and stroked Butters' scalp. "Cats don't talk," he said.  Upon hearing and understanding him, Butters felt a thousand indescribable emotions rush through his body. He didn't know what to say, and—once Eric granted him freedom of movement—he was afraid to get up.  Eventually, he sat up and knelt on the couch. It took him several seconds to look at Eric's face, and when he did, he could read in his friend’s gaze that he had only two choices: accept his status as a replacement for Mr. Kitty meant he was a cat and cats didn’t speak; or walk out the door's house and probably never come back.   His body trembled as he stood up. Then he walked straight to the bathroom, took care of his business, and looked at himself in the mirror, silently asking his reflection if he was sure what he was doing. If he even knew what he was getting into.   There was a tingling sensation in his belly, not yet intense enough to be identifiable, perhaps because he was also terrified—the terrified feeling was clear. Still, he returned to the living room and looked at Eric briefly.  His friend was so intimidating sitting in his armchair, and he was so handsome—or maybe he wasn’t. It was something beyond physical appearance; it was everything that Eric was, even the air surrounding him.  Then Leopold made a decision. He couldn't think of anything else but to return to the armchair and laying his head on Eric's lap again.   "I'm only going to say this once, so listen carefully," Eric said firmly as he stroked Butters' head. "From now on, until I say otherwise, you're a cat. My cat."      Butters held his breath for a couple of seconds before nodding. He understood.       They watched television for a couple more hours, Eric acting normally. At first, Butters felt confused but he soon understood that the only thing Eric expected from him was to follow him everywhere and keep him company.   He followed Eric, when he moved to his bedroom, and sat on his bed. Then he watched him turn on his videogames console and start playing. Butters amused himself, watching him for a few minutes before getting bored and taking out his phone to check his social media. There wasn't much activity there. Butters didn't have many friends at the university and didn't have a strong connection with his family, so the only updates he saw were about an influencer he followed.  He was laughing at a video when suddenly Cartman snatched the phone from his hands and hit him on the head with it. "Let go of that, Butters. Cats don’t play with phones. You'll scratch it," and he returned to his game without further ado. Butters rubbed his head, and although annoyed, he didn't protest. He glanced at the bedroom door a few times, but in the end, he stayed on the bed. Watching Eric play until boredom lulled him to sleep.   When mealtime came, Butters was fed tuna while Eric ate pizza and chicken wings.   Eric wasn’t ignoring him, he talked to him, but most of the time he wouldn’t look in his direction and never expected an answer. Butters felt weird. If not for the occasional caresses and compliments, he would have felt just like another object in Eric's house.   Eventually, the night came, and Eric made a space for him in bed. "How did you feel on your first day in your new home?" he asked, hugging him. "You behaved very well today. But tomorrow, you'll have to learn the rules of the house."       Hearing him, Butters felt a chill running down his spine.          Butters was accustomed to clinging to his bed partner when he slept beside someone. So, he rested without any problems. However, he had sweated a lot during the night, so the first thing he did the next day was showering. It didn't take him long to bathe, and upon stepping out of the shower, he was surprised to realize that there was only a towel where he had left his clean clothes.   He wrapped himself in it and left the bathroom, confused because he was absolutely sure he had left his clothes on the sink next to the shower. His confusion grew when he exited the room and found Eric outside the bathroom, holding a pet collar in his hand.   Leopold felt as if his feet were glued to the floor, and he didn’t dare to ask what his friend was doing there. Deep down, he knew. He knew Eric. He just couldn’t dwell on the scenario before him.   He simply watched Eric approach him and even leaned forward to let his friend fasten the collar around his neck. Then he felt the leather tighten against his skin and the cold of a metal tag rest on his sternum. The tag had his name engraved in cursive letters highlighted in sky blue, the same shade as the coat he used to wear when he was little.   "This is for you not to get lost," Eric said before sliding his hands to the towel covering Butters' nudity and snatching it away.   Butters struggled a bit to cover himself but gave up quickly. He still didn't know what was that thing that Eric possessed that made his knees tremble and made him do whatever Eric wanted him to do. Including stripping in front of him. Even though Butters knew it was wrong, that he would have a bad time. He always said yes and yielded.   Maybe it was because he was too nice. Maybe it was because his father conditioned him to obey anyone who exerted authority over him. Whatever it was, he liked it when Eric made him feel that way.   Once naked, he felt the cold air caressing his skin, yet his body was warm. His temperature rose even more when Eric stepped away to appreciate his body adorned only with the collar.   At first, Cartman seemed satisfied, but then he frowned. "Something's missing," he said and used both hands to push Butters to the floor. Butters resisted because he was confused and still astonished, but when Eric buried his fingers in his collarbones, Leopold followed the instruction and sat on the floor.   "There you go. Remember, cats walk on all fours."   Butters looked up at Eric, for what seemed like a long minute, but it was only a couple of seconds; before he returned his gaze to the floor. He remained like that. On all fours. Even after Eric turned around and left him alone in the hallway.      His still-wet hair dripped and soaked the carpet.        Except for the slight pain in his knees, that day was like the previous one. Cartman ignored him most of the time and only scolded him whenever he did something considered as human behavior, like changing the TV channel or getting up to pour himself a glass of water when thirsty. To reprimand him, Eric mixed in a combination of light taps on the head and buttocks.   The head taps were annoying, but the gentle touches on the buttocks were—different. The taps weren't spanks, and they had no intention other than reprimanding Butters, but Butters felt like those touches traveled across his skin and concentrated on the area between his legs everytime he felt them.    While they were on the living room couch, with Butters' head on Eric's lap—but the rest of his naked body facing down for a bit of privacy— he couldn't stop thinking about the sensation of Eric's fingers on him and his treacherous body began to react.  He felt a semi-erection between his legs and was grateful that his position allowed him to hide it; nevertheless, he knew that if Eric continued to make circles on his back, his situation would only worsen, and he would leave an embarrassing stain of precum on the upholstery of the chair.  With a head shake, he let Eric know he wanted to get up, and—being careful not to show his semi erection—he slid off the chair and went straight to the bathroom. Fortunately, Eric hadn't insisted that he act like a cat regarding his physiological needs.      Once in the bathroom, he again saw himself in the mirror. This time naked, with a boner and a leather collar around his neck. It didn't make sense to think about how he had gotten to this point; instead, he brought his right hand to his cock and stroked it.   He moved his hand up and down and bit his bottom lip so no sound escaped his mouth. He touched himself because he wanted to feel pleasure and wanted to finish, but also because he needed to feel exhausted and with no chance of getting an erection in the near future. He had never considered that having a short refractory period was something bad until that moment.   After he came, Butters cleaned himself up and returned to the living room feeling nervous and embarrassed. His paranoia led him to believe that Eric knew what he had done because, at first, Cartman looked at him very intensely, but soon Eric made a frustrated face and told Leopold that he should get dressed because his mom, Liane, would be back home soon.      Butters remembered Liane as that loving woman who did Eric's every whim—and still was that woman because she arrived home with chocolate cake for Eric—but now she was more assertive, even berated Eric for spending the entire weekend at home instead of doing something useful.   Before leaving the house, Eric warned Butters he shouldn’t tell anyone about their arrangement, that what happened that weekend was private. “I’ll kill you if you open your mouth,” said Eric in a voice that said his threat was very serious.   "I will not tell anyone," Butters promised.  What was he going to say? That he let his childhood friend collar him and walked naked in his house on all fours. Maybe he could talk about the part where he masturbated because of how arousing the situation was. Even if he wanted to tell—    Who would want to hear him?         Eric didn't tell him they would see each other next weekend, but Butters knew they would. He waited anxiously for the message and hardly paid attention in class. His mind kept traveling to Eric's fingers on his back.   When Butters showed up at the house for the third time, he understood that Liane worked out of town on the weekends and the house was all theirs. However, that didn't help lessen his embarrassment when he had to undress again. Not to mention the embarrassment when Eric told him that he had to wear a pair of furry ears and a tail in addition to the collar.   Butters looked at the tail, which didn't consist of synthetic fur attached to a belt like a normal Halloween costume but a tail glued to a metal butt plug. The plug didn't look very big, but it wasn't the smallest on the market.   He put his hands over his mouth to stifle a refusal and denied vehemently. The collar, the ears, being naked, and even walking on all fours wasn't much of a problem—but a butt plug was different. Too much.   Eric rolled his eyes and moved closer to Butters until Stotch was backed against the wall. Butters was taller than Eric, but he felt small under his gaze. Especially when Eric pressed his fully clothed body against his bare skin and brought his mouth to his ear to tell him he knew Butters touched himself in his bathroom.   “So, Butters. Are you gonna be a prude now? Are you going to behave like a fucking teenage virgin after you wanked off in my bathroom last week?”  Butters froze and was fully aware of the hard fabric of Eric's jeans brushing against the skin of his legs and the metal buttons of Eric's shirt digging into his stomach and chest.  “Answer me,” Eric demanded, and Butters whined before nodding. “Are you a prude?” Butters shook his head. “OK then, get ready unless you want me to do it for you?” Butters shook his head again and ran to the bathroom.     He had more than one problem when he got into the tiny room. The first was wondering again what he was doing there and not being able to find sufficient reasons to run away. He was scared, but no more scared than eager to stay and keep feeling Eric's hands over his body.   His second problem was that, in his rush to flee into the bathroom, he didn't think to ask for lube to use the butt plug without complications. He didn't think he could return to Eric and ask for it, so he fixed his situation with what he had at arm's length, which was hand soap.   He smeared the butt plug with the liquid soap and leaned over the toilet. Then he probed the exit of his rectum with the metal tip of the butt plug. Slow at first, but realizing that the situation itself was very embarrassing, he thought it was a better idea to push the butt plug into his body fast and hard to end with everything immediately.     That wasn't a good plan.         Eric was right. He wasn't a virgin and had a partial idea of what he had to do, but he didn't know everything. Most of what he knew about sex was due to the amount of pornographic content he was consuming, not because he had experimented with his body before. Had he gotten something up his butt before, he would have known that he should stimulate the area before forcing anything in. That way, he wouldn't have felt a stinging and unpleasant pain as he pushed the butt plug in. He hurted himself so bad that the corners of his eyes filled with tears.       When he finally got up enough courage to walk out of the bathroom and face Eric, he found his friend looking at him appreciatively, with no intention of berating him for seeing him upright. Perhaps Eric didn't reprimand him because he was delighted with Butters' appearance—but most likely because he was pleased that he had made Butters submit to him.   “There’s something I forgot,” Eric said and calmly grabbed his hands to put him the gloves. Later, he asked him to sit on the floor to adjusted some knee pads. That way, he wouldn't get hurt crawling around the house.     Even though it was Eric who gave him a butt plug and made him crawl around the house naked, it was Butters who felt like a pervert—since he was the one who had a semi-erection most of the time that he couldn't control.   The worst were those moments when Eric caressed his back and played his fingers along its length, and stopped before reaching his tailbone, because Butters felt his penis throb and beg for a touch and relief that only came when he couldn't take it anymore, and locked himself in the bathroom.   Eric knew what he did in there, but he never brought up the subject again.       His situation was a pleasant torture that lasted four consecutive weekends.          Until Butters's parents complained that he hadn't visited them in a long time, they were hurt because someone told them they saw Butters in town last weekend, but his son didn't visit them.   Butters texted Eric that he wouldn't be able to be with him that weekend, and since he didn't get a response, he showed up at Eric's door on Saturday morning. To apologize in person.     Eric opened the door and heard him apologize with an indifferent expression.   "I'm sorry, Eric. But my parents say—I haven't seen them for a long time, and I should. I don't know—maybe we can see each other tomorrow? You can come to eat with us.”   "Are you my boyfriend or something?" asked Eric annoyed. "Hum," Butters felt his face flush. "I-I don't think so—No."   “So don't invite me to your house to eat with your parents. We are not boyfriends, and we are not kids anymore.”   "Alright. I'm sorry. I'll see you next weekend, then." Butters couldn’t help but feel sad at his friend’s words.   Cartman didn't answer him. Instead, he stared at him. With that same expression that made his legs shake, and for a moment, Butters wanted to kneel and apologize. Tell him that he would stay by his side and that nothing else mattered to him.   But his father was waiting for him at home, and Butters feared him more than Eric.   After Leopold turned and started walking, he could almost swear he heard Eric whisper, "you broke your promise." But he wasn't sure because when he looked at Eric again, he seemed unfazed as if Butters' presence or absence didn't matter.  Then he saw him close the door of the house.