So hi everybody! It's been a while. Just so you all know, Model Theory is still in the works. I haven't completely given up on it, even though I haven't updated in FOREVER.

This is a going to be a few chapters long, I hope. It's something I came up with while reading South Park fanfics. It's kind of a horribly dirty version of The Truth About Cats and Dogs. It's also an experiment.

Please R&R. I really want (and need) to know what you think of it, so I can I can improve on it and the next chapter.

Don't leave me hangin' guys!

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park Characters.

Warning: Graphic Language and Sexual Content.

-XXX-

Another cold evening with a dark, starless sky outside my window. I'm laying on my bed, sprawled out where I fell an hour before. I had come home from my dead end job, and just deflated. The people I worked for were assholes. The people I worked with were dickheads. The customers were douchebags.

Another day, wasted.

It isn't so much that my life is shit, than that I'm stuck, in what amounts to a pile of shit. What everyone else calls a rut.

I went through a phase when I was in middle school, where I hated everyone and everything. It was short lived and short loved. I gave up the black nail polish and dark soul searching for a clearer head.

I went on to high school and found out I really like comedy. I pulled as many pranks as Cartman had pounds of fat, and excelled in the drama class I decided to take. When I graduated, I went to Colorado U. and majored in drama.

Half way through the degree I dropped out when I found out that I had no acting skill what so ever.

I changed my major to English and now, while going to school, I'm interning with a local newspaper.

A few people would kill for my job, even after they find out that the only thing they will ever do is file the mail. Ever.

School is fine. I'm passing. But the passion isn't there. Not like it as night. When I'm laying here after work, waiting for the radio show to come on.

It's a dark humor comedy schpeel with a man named C.T. who takes calls from random douchebag type people from around the state, and lets them rant. He then precedes to completely degrade them for their stupidity, telling them in the most sarcastic way possible that they need to stop being such pussy eating dickwads.

There's usually a guest speaker on each show, which runs every night at 11:57 pm., four nights a week. They'll do a shitty joke poll or prank call a few people.

It isn't the most popular show on the radio. There are even rumors running around that the show is going to be canceled soon. It doesn't matter to me really. The show sucks balls.

It's 11:57 pm. I slowly roll over, grunting at the stiffness in my back. What kind of newspaper has office hours until 10:30 at night?

I press the button on my pathetic radio, the station is already tuned to the one I want, and just on time, I hear the shitty music chime in on the highest possible setting I can have it on with out the neighbors in my apartment complex shooting me in the fucking face.

Then he comes on.

C.T. laughs dryly before muttering something under his breath. He hesitates a moment, and my breath catches as he starts the show.

"Good morning fuckheads. If you have nothing better to do than fucking listen to this shitty show you really need to get a fucking life."

His voice is smooth, deep, and enthralling. Wait, no, fuck that. His voice is a sexy as all fuck.

"So tonight I'm running this shit hole stag. That's right folks, the rumors you hear are true. This old bitch is getting shut the fuck down." A deep chuckle resounds over the speakers and I let the air out of my lungs. He's hardly even said anything and my pant's are already too fucking tight.

"This is the last show you'll get to hear. There are no guests. There are no gags. It's just me and you. Ain't that just fucking swell? I bet you're as stupid as me, sitting in a shitty, broken chair waiting for some mythical big fuck to whisk you out of it." His laugh is a bit darker this time. He's pissed, but at the same time it sounds like he's elated.

"Tonight I want you fucks to call me. I want to hear your dimwitted sob story, and I want you to know how fucking hilarious I think it is. So bitches, start dialing away." C.T. cut to commercial. I decided it was time to get the stupid slacks off of me and crawl under the covers of my crappy bed to wait for it to come back on. I've still got a huge boner, but I think about the seriousness of my situation.

I hate the show, but how the hell am I supposed to hear the fucking host, if he isn't on the radio anymore.

It's been almost three months since I started listening to the show, and even though I don't think of myself as a gay ass fag, I know that in these three months, the only thing I've been able to jerk off to was that bastards fucking voice.

"Oh, look, you dipshits are actually calling. You guys are fucked up! You seriously call here all the fucking time knowing I'm going to mind fuck you and you still. Keep. Calling. What the fuck ever. Caller number I Don't Give A Fuck, what's your shit?"

"H-hey C.T. I'm a first time caller-" This guy's voice is high pitched and nervous. I already want to punch him.

"Fuck you." C.T. cuts in.

"W-well, you see, I'm kinda in love with this girl in my class. I think she hates me though-"

"Of course she does, you're a fucking dick."

"No, I mean, I give her my notes all the time, and I follow her home from school to make sure she's safe, and I even listen to the same music she does, but she won't even look at me anymore."

"So you aren't a dick, but in fact, a stalking creepy fuck who won't leave her alone?"

"Well, when you put it that way, it sounds bad, but really, I'm not creepy at all, I make sure she knows I'm there and I even leave her letters in her locker."

"Dude, that's pretty fucked up you know-"

"I even sent her to a movie she had been wanting to see. I heard her talking about it with one of her friends!" I think my dick just deflated.

"Shut the fuck up and listen to yourself. You're a fucking creepy ass stalker. Of course she wants nothing to do with you. You need to chill the fuck out, you aren't ever going to get that fucking girl. You've already screwed that up." His voice was a bit higher, a bit more exasperated then usual. He was angry at the caller, which was a bit weird. C.T. rarely seemed to feel anything more the mere dark amusement over others suffering. Tonight he didn't seem so much a sexy demon as much as he did an angry, sexy person he did right now.

I shoved my hand down my boxer-briefs and wrapped my fingers around my dick. I wasn't any better then the stupid fuck who was calling, but I didn't give two shits at the moment.

"But, I think we're meant to-"

"And that's it for you, you aren't going to listen to me, in fact you're probably going to go cut her up and stuff her in your closet, so I really want no fucking thing to do with this conversation anymore." I hear a puff of breath travel over the radio as he lets out a sigh.

I squeeze my hand, unsqueeze, and pump. Once, twice, and then I stop. There's still another forty five minutes to go.

"Fuckin' next caller. What is wrong with yoooou?" He practically moans. And even though it isn't one of those 'I'm going to cum buckets all over your face' type of moans, it still makes my dick twitch.

"I hate everything. I fucking hate my stupid parents. They didn't buy me an iPhone 4G. They didn't buy me a car. All I got were a bunch of stupid clothes and a fucking macbook."

"Well ain't that just shitty."

"Of course! I told them I wanted a fuckin' 4G. I mean seriously I have a 3G and all of my friends already have 4G phones."

"You know what you can do with that shitty 3G phone?" He almost sounded happy.

"What?" The idiot girl really had to ask?

"You can shove that thing up you're fucking ass, because that's how much fuck I give. You have a fucking phone. It works. You have a fucking computer. You have fucking lungs to breath with, and you are literally stealing the air I could be breathing. The air that is wasted on you is a sad, sad loss."

Again the show cuts to commercial.

There are more callers when the break ends. Each time I hear his voice my hand moves of its own accord. It's amazing I can make myself last this long. He sounds so fucking hot with that velvet voice, and I try to imagine what he looks like. I was never able to find pictures of him. He's probably a fat fuck with nasty greasy clothes on. But I don't imagine that. I imagine a faceless body, all hard, lean muscle with a nasty smirk resonating through his voice. A voice that tells me exactly how hard he's going to fuck me.

"We don't have a lot of time left. I really don't feel like taking any more of these shitty fucking calls. Is there anyone even out there who has something interesting to say? If so, call me you fucktard. Make my fuckin' day."

Again I pause, and stop pulling on my cock. I think a moment. I've never called the show before. I've never spoken to him. There isn't going to be another chance.

I grab my cell. It's a cheap piece of crap. One of those phones you buy a time card for. One that they don't even require you're information for. I could call. I could call and fucking speak to that fucking god and even if I fucking came right then and there, loud and shamelessly, he would never know who I was.

I dial the number.

"Hello this is CSSP 93.2fm. You calling to talk on the C.T. show?"

"Um-uh...yeah?" It isn't him. It's some woman with one of the most annoying voices ever. Again, I think my dick just wilted.

"Well? What's your story? He said he doesn't want to take shitty life problems. You got something more interesting then that?"

"Fuck, yeah I do."

"Well, what is it?"

"I work for a newspaper. I've been listening to this shitty station since this show came on and I'd like to tell him thanks for making me...laugh?"

"Aww fuck...Is that really the best you've got?"

"You got anything better?"

"Naw, not really, probably why were going off air." She chucked a bit, but it sounded more like a wheeze. "Well, whatever. Please wait on hold until you go on air."

I wait about ten minutes. During that time, goosebumps break out over my skin and my pulse pounds faster each second longer I wait. The radio is turned down low, as I listen to the other jerkoffs who called in.

How the fuck did a guy with ten dogs end up on the air? Who the fuck cares if he has ten dogs? C. T. feels the same.

Another commercial break, the show is almost over and I'm nearly ready to hang up.

"You're on the air dipshit. You call me to tell me how awesome I am or what?"

"Uh...what?" I stammer. I can't believe that it's his voice on the other line.

"I said you're on the air. Speak or go die." Velvet. Fucking million dollar velvet.

My hand is in my boxer-briefs again, and this time, I'm trying to stop myself from shooting my load right then and there.

"Uh...hi-"

"Bitch, get on with it. I'm bored as fuck."

"I...well I called to let you know, that your show...is probably the worst-the worst show I've ever listened to." I groan, turning my head slightly into my pillow. I can't help but let my hand pump my shaft. I cant help the sound that escapes, cutting off C.T's response.

"That is the best praise I've ever-"

"Ah! Mmmm you know what? I've gotten so tired of listening to those fucking whiny bitches every night, every fucking show for the last three months?" My voice shakes, desire tinging ever syllable I speak.

"The fuck are you on man?" I ignore what he says, but I let the sounds of his deep, sexy, confused voice fill my ears and a grip the base of my cock, long fingers cradling my balls almost too tightly.

"Really, you never should have even taken those calls. You probably would have ran the show fine without them..mmm. I mean, fuuuck, you're voice is even hotter over the phone...clearer-" I stop, horrified at what I just said. Yeah, I was gonna try and cum before the call was over, but I didn't really want it all...out in the open like that.

"What is this? A fucking prank or somethin-"

"No! No, it-it isn't, fuck, sorry, I'm a bit distracted-well, every time you fucking talk. Just give me a few seconds and I'll hang up." I don't wait a moment longer and shove the phone between my face and the pillow, shoving both hands down my underwear jerking myself off as I finish what I want-no need to say.

"I've been listening to this shitty station since it first came on. I was driving h-home from work, and your stupid fucking voooice came on the station. I had to fucking pull over and jerk off like some gay ass queer because of you and your lame ass show." Insert wanton whore moan here.

"What the-" I cut him off, how dare he speak?

"Right now, you're telling me, that the only fucking fuel I have to jerk off to anymore, isn't going to be on this fucking station anymore, and I'm not happy at all about that. But since you don't know me, and you probably talk to assholes like me all day, I could care less about the fact that I've got my hands wrapped around my cock, on air." I breath deeply. The line is quiet, but I think I hear something in the background. He probably ended the call. I don't give a fuck, and I continue.

"I'm jerking off to your stupid voice, thinking you're probably one ugly fuck, but you know what, I've got no dignity left, so with this I'm gonna fucking shut up, and I'm going to cum all over my sheets just. For. You."

It only take two flicks of my wrist, and hand running down the inside of my thigh and I'm nearly yelling my release over the phone line.

I wring out the last of my orgasm and shut the phone off. I don't want to think about what I just did.

I, Kyle Broflovski, one of the only Jews that was raised in South Park, just jerked off to a guy on a phone.

I'm a bigger perv than Kenny.

Fuck my life.

-XXX-

Again, please R&R! Let me know what you think! Also, I do not have a beta, so if you happen to see any fail I'd love if you point it out so I can fix it right away.

Chapter 2 Preview:

I couldn't believe it. I could not fucking believe it. It isn't possible. It can't be. That voice can not be real. It can NOT be coming from behind me. It can NOT be his.