Chapter Text
At age sixteen, Tweek Tweak lost his mother to ovarian cancer.
It was an unholy miracle that Richard and Marie Tweak became parents. It was impossible to imagine his parents ever having sex, let alone having enough of it to conceive a child, then bring that child to term, and the child surviving into adulthood. Each milestone of his existence only compounded Tweek’s disbelief. Wasn’t nature supposed to weed out the ‘unfit’ parents and offspring? Natural selection. What a goddamn joke. It would’ve made more sense if Tweek was an alien from another galaxy. As a child, on each birthday he wished that his parents would tell him he was part of an extinct alien race and that they adopted him. Jesus, even as a kid his outlook had been too bleak to imagine his real alien parents would save him from the Tweaks. Their genetic line would stop with Tweek, there was no fucking way he’d let the shitshow that was their legacy continue. Moreover, Tweek was certain that his cursed fetus was what caused the malignant growth in his mother in the first place.
Marie’s cancer had reached stage two when she got her diagnosis. Performing a hysterectomy, chemo and radiation was their course of action, though the prognosis was still uncertain. The treatment was aggressive, leaving Tweek’s mother chronically exhausted and unable to work, but when the treatments were finished, she was in remission. Though she never fully recovered her energy and spirit, several years passed and her routine checkups grew further apart. At an annual checkup however; the oncologist discovered cancer growing in other parts of her body, to the extent which made it inoperable. She wasn’t expected to live past six months.
Marie chose to stay at home for as long as she could and Tweek and Richard tried to keep her as comfortable as possible; but during the fourth month after the diagnosis, they made the decision to move her into hospice care. Marie spent six weeks under constant medical attention before the cancer overtook her body.
Marie Tweak’s final request of Richard was to take care of the shop. She asked Tweek to take care of his father. Neither parent ever thought to take care of Tweek, he always managed to survive on his own somehow. After the world ended, Tweek would undoubtedly still be there, right along with the cockroaches and the Twinkies. Not too bad for a nympho spaz. He of course loved his mother, despite her shortcomings as a parent, though his grief didn’t compare to his father’s devastation. By default, Tweek was left to manage the coffee shop. He was absent from school so much that he was only allowed to continue on to the twelfth grade after retaking several courses over the summer, which he did while working full time at the coffee shop.
At age eleven, puberty had hit Tweek like a slap to the dick. It was intense, occasionally painful, and could also feel really fucking good. However, he quickly learned that he needed to keep his desires hidden. It was a shit age to experience sexual urges; he was too young to touch someone that way and it was difficult to make the feelings subside. For a while, Tweek made do with rubbing himself against something when he was alone, which was quite often seeing as how his parents worked almost constantly. When he was twelve and the other kids started sharing timid kisses and becoming interested in each other, he finally experienced the magic of physical affection.
Despite being an ‘odd’ child, Tweek had a decent number of friends. He did normal kid things like hugging, wrestling, tickling, and having them sit on his lap. The last one was a game changer. When asked- and he always knew who not to ask- Tweek’s friends would gladly sit on his lap and let him wrap his arms around them while they played video games or read books. As he grew more confident, he started to test boundaries a bit more. He might nuzzle into someone’s neck or give them a kiss on the cheek. A couple friends were just as eager as he was, they even kissed him on the mouth! It was the absolute best to hug someone on his lap while they gave each other little pecks on the lips; it made him squirm in his seat, but in a good way. He liked all his special friends well enough, but he liked the boys the most. After getting caught in these situations by a couple parents, Tweek learned to be better at keeping his feelings to himself until he was older.
Attachment disorder, anxiety, bipolar II disorder. From the benign neglect of his mother, to his father holding a pistol to his nine year old head for a lesson on stranger danger, and practically never getting hugs or encouragement from either parent, Tweek had trouble forming healthy connections with people. A symptom of his mood disorder was what his psychiatrist called ‘hypersexual behavior’. Apparently being touch and affection starved for nearly his entire life and using sexual release as nearly the only way to relieve his anxiety wasn’t a great coping mechanism. He went too far when he was way too young to understand any possible repercussions of his dalliances, and instead only cared about making his body feel good. Tweek felt as if his bodily autonomy was the only thing in his life that he had control of, which led him to chase any opportunity to keep his mind quiet, any chance to feel present in his body. Though apparently, Tweek wasn’t even entitled to his autonomy.
Near his eighteenth birthday, Richard Tweak sat his son down and told him of their dire financial situation. The medical bills from Marie’s treatment were substantial and without her accounting abilities, their business and home were in jeopardy. Of course, Richard had a brilliant plan that would earn the money they so desperately needed. He had a friend from college who owned a production studio that made adult films. Of fucking course he would, when had Richard Tweak ever done anything normal? Richard had given them photos of Tweek and explained how ‘experienced’ he was.
“Son, everyone in town knows you’re promiscuous, there’s no point in trying to act innocent.”
“So that makes it okay to sell me like a sex slave?”
“Now, Tweek, that’s ridiculous. No one would be interested in a not-so-gently-used eighteen year old slave! Besides, this is all perfectly legal- I don’t even need to fake your death like I would if I sold you into slavery. It’s almost too convenient,” Richard chirped. “I thought you’d be agreeable to this; you can have all the homosexual intercourse you want and help us out financially.”
“You thought I’d be okay with you forcing me to do it for money just because I’m not a prude? What parent thinks that’s an okay career for a kid that just finished high school?!”
“You should be thanking me for coming up with a solution so easily, you would have made this much more difficult if you were unattractive. The producers actually want you come out to visit, they think you’re a very pretty young man. Thankfully, you inherited my and your mother’s good looks.”
Richard paused to gaze at the wall with dreamy gaze, no doubt thinking of Marie, before a look of cogency suddenly returned. He flashed Tweek a smug grin and took a sip from his seemingly bottomless coffee mug.
Was he-? Yes he was, he was proud of his own problem solving. Tweek’s skin crawled. Richard actually thought that was a compliment. Pretty. Just what every teenage boy wants to hear. Tweek was a pretty pretty boy with golden curls and porcelain skin just like a precious little doll. Fucking fantastic. He’d probably be paired with older men in scenarios pandering to school girl or trap fetishes. What a dream come true. And what photos had Richard given them? His parents almost never took photos, and they stopped requesting school pictures after elementary school. Tweek didn’t post any pictures of himself on social media, and he was fairly certain Richard didn’t know how to even use a search engine, let alone find images of him. The thought of his father taking candid shots while they worked was gross enough, and Tweek hoped the secret photo sessions stopped there.
“Fantastic, some weird guy who’s old enough to be my father thinks I’m ‘pretty’. What, so he’s like my pimp or something?”
Sighing as though Tweek was incredibly slow, Richard spoke in his rarely used dad-tone. “My friend is a very nice man who runs a respectable business, Tweek. He’ll treat you well, there’s no need to be such a spaz.”
“I’m not being a spaz! I’m acting like any sane kid would when their dad tells them they have to do porn to help the family business! You never listen to me, what the hell is wrong with you?”
“Son, I can’t force you to do anything. But we’re going to the studio next week. I’ll drop you off in the morning, and come back to pick you up later in the day. What you do while you’re there is your decision. Just keep in mind how much your mother would appreciate you taking care of the family business.”
Craig Tucker first saw Henri Horne when he was seventeen.
The summer before his senior year of high school Craig finally accepted that he was unequivocally gaybones for dick. It started with a fairly innocent conversation between him and his friend Kevin while they watched reruns of Star Trek: The Next Generation. Craig asked the offhanded question of whether androids could consent or had autonomy, which turned into discussing which of the crew member of the USS Enterprise they found most attractive. Predictably, they landed on both of them admitting that though they never had done it before, they wouldn’t mind kissing a boy. A simple kiss progressed from one thing to another, resulting in Kevin knowing he was bi, and that for Craig, it was boys only from here on out.
Craig explored his newfound sexuality in earnest curiosity, and soon discovered the joys of M/M pornography. He came across a video that had the tags “barely legal” and “18-19”, which made him feel a bit squicky, but the other tags such as “cute twink” and “petite blond“ piqued his interest (Yes, Craig had a type). He was seventeen, so it wouldn’t be creepy to watch someone close to his age; they were a consenting adult, he wasn’t a pedo perv, right?
Kitten with a whip, that was Henri’s schtick; and Craig ate it up, licked his fingers, and asked for more. Henri was tooth achingly sweet. He had wavy blonde hair, large hazel eyes, fox-like facial features, and a perky ass. He had a wide eyed innocence that made it seem like he had never even heard of sex before, but Jesus-fucking-Christ, did he take cock well. It didn’t matter whether he was riding or swallowing it down, he was a sight to behold. Henri’s cock was average length, but was thicc. Craig usually imagined it was them inside him when he fucked himself with a toy. He liked to believe that all those beautiful moans and sighs were genuine; god they sounded so pretty. Craig knew that porn wasn’t realistic, that it was hyper-romanticised and often reduced to stereotypes; but he secretly hoped that having sex with the right person could be that fantastic.
In the beginning, dear Henri was in scenarios like ‘twink cheerleader gets fucked by football team’ or ‘blond twink gets spit-roasted by roommates’; like a pretty young man could only be a pocket pussy for beefy bros. After about a year in the industry, they featured in a film with an established actor and exploded in popularity. The concepts of their films became a lot less cliche, or dropped the premise of plot altogether, and their partners were more varied in ethnicity and gender expression.
Henri always bottomed, aside from the one bicurious film they made; a classic scenario where the gay guy loses their va-ginity to their sister’s friends at her slumber party. Oddly enough, that video was one of Craig’s favorites. Henri was in almost every scene, and the women were natural and mostly small-chested, so Craig wasn’t totally turned off by their presence. One scene featured a girl with skin tone very similar to Craig’s own. Without the view of the feminine face and front of her body, it was easy to imagine that it was him on his hands and knees for the lithe blond, eagerly taking it from behind.
Craig often imagined pushing Henri’s face into the floor as their pink lips begged for him. Watching their toned little ass bounce with his thrusts while their innocent hazel eyes stared in shock and wonder at the savage drilling he was getting. Occasionally, Craig indulged himself, imagining he could make the pretty little thing come from penetration alone. Or, if the elvish beauty was riding him, Craig would watch them jerk off, reaching his own orgasm as their cum splattered their bodies. No matter the position, Henri always wanted Craig to cum inside them; he was awfully fond of creampies. However, after they came (he always made sure they both came, he was a gentleman like that), the end was always the same. Craig would hold Henri close and stroke their hair while he told them how beautiful they were. The sweet blond would nestle into Craig’s chest, confessing that Craig was his favorite partner. Yep, he was a goddamn romantic idiot.
Craig concocted this fantasy as if he could whisk the young man away like some ridiculous Pretty Woman nonsense. Hey baby, let me take you away from all this and put you up in a nice condo, where you can spend your time getting day drunk on white wine and cook me dinner while wearing nothing but an apron. Everyone loves a story about a hooker with a heart of gold, right? Not that they were a hooker, just a porn star. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a hooker, Craig wouldn’t judge. Prostitution and porn were both part of sex work, anyway.
Fantasy Craig was dominant and always got what he wanted. He gave vulgar demands without embarrassment, and his doe-eyed cutie was always all too eager to please him. Basically, the fantasy version of himself wasn’t very much like actual Craig. The Craig who was usually uncomfortable making explicit requests, was nervous to try anything outside of standard vanilla, and too worried about hurting his partner to be very rough. The Craig whose looks and demeanor belied his confidence. The guys that usually hit on him expected him to be a cold bastard who would fuck them hard and fast, then quickly lose interest; good for a rebound, or a one-night romp to satisfy the itch to get railed into next week. They were often put off when Craig tried to have a real conversation or be sweet with them. He continued to take his chances on men like some sort of Prince Charming looking for the foot that fit his glass slipper (wait, was the shoe or the foot his penis?), hoping he wouldn’t be searching long.
Two weeks after his eighteenth birthday, Tweek Tweak appeared in his first pornographic movie.
Several days after his eighteenth birthday, Tweek sat in his father’s car in the lot of an adult film studio. Perhaps for the first time, he was reluctant to leave the man’s company. Tweek stared at his father, giving him a chance to change his mind. He would not beg. He would go to his grave, able to say he never prostrated himself before the man. Richard returned the gesture, giving him a blithe look until Tweek growled and climbed out of the car. Slamming the door with a harsh shove, he comforted himself with the realization that at least his father hadn’t rambled any mixed metaphors about anal sex and coffee.
The first thing Tweek did was fill out paperwork, just like any other job, except the only other job Tweek ever had was at the coffee shop. When it came to family, Tweek Bros. was above trivial matters like legal documentation and payroll. The mundane task did help him calm down a bit, preventing himself from running out the door in a panic. Then they went to the green room so Tweek could meet the actors that were present and gave them time to talk so Tweek could get comfortable. Thankfully, everyone was kind and professional, and even the guys that weren’t his type didn’t seem like they’d horrible to work with. After a while, the director asked several of the guys to stay and discuss this kind of acting in more detail.
The director paired Tweek with a young man named Davíd, who was a few years older than him (but who fucking wasn’t? He was barely legal) and who had been in the industry for several years. He had a gentle, but teasing personality and Tweek immediately felt at ease around him. It didn’t hurt that Tweek also found his soft brown eyes and coarse dark hair quite attractive. Okay, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Davíd ran Tweek through the usual pre-production process for actors while a small studio room was set up for them. Tweek’s screen test was to be a blowjob, giving and receiving. How very thoughtful of them. The objective was to assess Tweek’s potential, not shooting a scene that would be headed for post-production, which was a bit of a relief. Tweek laughed to himself, if he sucked (haha he was so funny), at least he’d still get a professional beej out of the debacle.
Thankfully, the set was intentionally closed and only contained several people besides Davíd and Tweek. They started clothed and kissing, moving through the usual progression of events, albeit at a much quicker pace and with occasional blocking instructions from the director and producer. Though he was self conscious nearly the whole time, Tweek genuinely enjoyed himself. Blowjobs were his specialty, after all. He went about his business, allowing himself to get lost in the act he enjoyed so much. It wasn’t until after he caught Davíd cum across his tongue, and was handed a towel and robe, that he remembered he was in a studio.
Surprisingly, the most awkward part for him was getting a blowjob. He felt incredibly exposed and aware of his every movement. Luckily, Tweek had always vocal and expressive during sex, so he hoped that made up for any unflattering things he might have done. Once again, Tweek was smacked in the face with how bizarre his life was. He was earnestly hoping that he gave and got head well enough so that he could get paid to do it on camera. That was a honey of a record-scratch freeze-frame moment.
Apparently giving a fantastic blowjob was an employable skill, and the director asked Tweek to appear in a film that planned to shoot the following week. How could he possibly turn down the offer? Hid dad made it sound like they’d be out on the streets in a matter of weeks if he didn’t start the fuck-for-money business ASAP. In the intervening week, the studio administrative assistant booked Tweek a variety of appointments to prepare for the shoot; hair stylist, manicure, waxing, intimate bleaching. Weren’t you supposed to avoid getting bleach on your skin? Hopefully, they didn’t use actual bleach. He still couldn’t believe this was happening, where he was, what he’d done, who he’d done. It was the height of surrealism. Tweek almost forgot that his eighteenth birthday was only three days ago.
Oh and of course, he had to decide on a pseudonym. Tweek’s mother was French-Canadian, having grew up in Quebec and speaking mostly Canadian-French throughout childhood. Though Richard acted as if Marie had no life before the two of them met, she had taught her son some of the language and culture, and admitted that her first choice was to name him Henri. Eighteen year old Tweek was not above spite and pettiness, so this was the name he settled upon, though he knew it would never be pronounced the correct “awn-Ree”. The producer liked it, adding that the “i” in place of the “y” would seem cute and suit Tweek’s “innocent twink” look. Hooray.
In regards to his second name, Tweek was out of interest and inspiration. Apparently, porn names had changed quite a bit over the years. Gone were the days of ultra cheesy monikers, and the urban legend of using the name of a pet and the street you grew up on was simply that; a legend. It wouldn’t have worked for Tweek anyway, Richard never allowed him a pet, and his first childhood home was on State Route 453. What did the trick nowadays was alliteration, phallic or innocent imagery, and luxury. Chanel, Steele, Gunn, Foxx, Angel, Deville, Johnson; etcetera.
Tweek went with the third suggestion from one of his new coworkers. Horne. It checked the appropriate boxes. Alliteration, easy to pronounce, phallic, suggestive, not horribly cringe-inducing. Over a weekend that summer Tweek had binged the entirety of Twin Peaks, and he had to admit that young Audrey Horne was #aestheticgoals on the sex kitten front. So why the fuck not? It’s not like his dignity was at stake, that particular ship sailed the minute his father revealed his brilliant plan. So one morning, barely legal Tweek Tweak walked into an adult film studio and left that afternoon as the newly-minted twinkie pie, Henri Horne.
After a couple years in the adult entertainment industry, Tweek became quite popular and did well enough financially to put some of his wages aside. He kept the funds in different accounts at several banks and invested a small portion. It seemed that as long as Richard Tweak received a decent sum money from each of Tweek’s paychecks, he didn’t really look into the details of his son’s earnings. As a precaution, however; Tweek paid for a safe deposit box at a bank to house his paystubs and any documents he had from the coffee shop and his films, as well as a flash drive of anything Richard ever sent him by text, voicemail or email pertaining to his work. He also kept five thousand dollars cash in the deposit box for emergencies. It wasn’t advisable to store cash there, but it was the easiest to keep it available and away from his father. Tweek continued to squirrel away his earnings until the tender age of twenty-four. His films were distributed worldwide. He had fucked on camera for six years until he was finally able to leave.
Tweek consulted an attorney roughly nine months before he left the industry. Kyle Broflovski helped him gather anything that could support his case and advised him on how to safely proceed with his father and employment in the meantime. It seemed that staggering evidence of withholding pay for much of Tweek’s childhood, and “inflicting excessive psychological trauma” made for a strong case. They filed a civil suit and Tweek was more than ready to go to court; even if they won the case and still owed his attorney money, Tweek wouldn’t care. He wanted validation, to prove a point.
As it turned out, Tweek and Kyle didn’t have to put up with much of a fight. Richard’s counsel advised him to settle privately instead of taking the matter into litigation. A court case would cause scandal and negative media attention for the business. Though he secretly thought Richard wouldn’t pry into his life once he left, Tweek also filed a restraining order against him; he was absolutely done with his father and nothing in the world could persuade him otherwise.
In the month before Kyle’s firm served Richard, Tweek slowly moved his belongings to his new apartment. It was a tiny shoebox of a studio in an old, but charming stone building. The weathered parquet floors and large north-facing windows created the soothing habitat he never had growing up. Tweek had never felt such joy. Kyle mentioned that a colleague of his could help Tweek get assistance with a first-time homebuyers loan; that he could have more space, go straight to ownership. But Tweek was happy in his small apartment. It was all his, paid for by years of hard work. Besides, Tweek had plans for the bulk of his money.
Tweek began baking while in middle school, it was something interesting to do while stuck at the shop on evenings and weekends. The shop already had ovens for the flash frozen pastries they got from their wholesaler, and it was easy enough for Tweek to convince his mother to add things like flour, eggs and butter to their supply orders. He mostly brought his creations to school for his classmates, or offered them as complimentary samples to customers at the coffee house. One day, after serving a total asshole of a customer, he plopped down in front of the store laptop and determinedly added everything he needed to their next supply order. Tweek tracked the cost of materials and the sales of his baked goods, and proudly showed Richard the spreadsheets demonstrating the profits he made over the first two months. Apparently, his father hadn’t even noticed the new bakery makeover of the coffee shop, but at least he commended him on the increase in sales. By the time Marie became ill, Tweek had been selling his pastries at the coffee shop for years.
Kyle referred Tweek to a financial planner, and with a business model, product portfolio, and down payment, he obtained a small business loan. After much research and reluctant whining, Tweek decided to make the bakery a gluten-free establishment. Yeah, it’s trendy, but some people actually have allergies, and there weren’t any other bakeries in town that offered GF desserts. If the trend died down, he could always transition into a vegan or traditional bakery; everything he made was vegetarian, so it wouldn’t be too overwhelming to make the change. Tweek invited his best friend to the team as co-owner, and began his new life as a baker.
Two years later, Craig Tucker ordered a gluten-free birthday cake.