Author's Note: This story was written solely for fun and amusement purposes and therefore is not meant to be taken seriously whatsoever.
Disclaimer: I don't own South Park or any of its characters. All credit goes to the amazing creative duo, Matt and Trey.
Everyone Wants Stan Marsh
by Angelic Guardian
The dark-haired teen jumped at the sound of his name. He turned his head, only to smile in relief when he saw his Super Best Friend running towards him.
"Hey, dude, what's up?" Stan asked.
As soon as Kyle reached him, he slapped his hands on Stan's shoulders and pulled him forward, crashing their lips together in a passionate kiss. Stan's light blue eyes immediately widened in shock.
"MY SUPER BEST FRIEND IS KISSING ME!" he thought. "THIS ISN'T FUCKING NORMAL!"
It wasn't until he felt Kyle's tongue push its way into his mouth that he finally came to his senses and pulled away.
"DUDE, WHAT THE FUCK?!" Stan shrieked, staring at Kyle wildly.
Kyle smirked, because even though he'd just mauled his best friend like a hungry animal, he couldn't help but enjoy the look on Stan's face. He just looked so…scared. It was such a turn-on. He licked his upper lip in a seductive way, trying to control himself from jumping on Stan again.
"I've been wanting to do that ever since you hit puberty," Kyle said in a totally calm, yet strangely sexy tone.
Stan's mouth hung open. His heart was racing a mile a minute as he stared at Kyle with wide eyes. All the while his mind was still desperately trying to register what just happened.
After about a minute of awkward silence between the two of them, Kyle finally got the hint that Stan was way too freaked out to actually speak, so Kyle, being the sexy, smart genius that he was, took it upon himself to break the silence.
"Yeah, dude, I'm gay, in case you were wondering," he said casually.
Stan still said nothing.
"All right, look, I know this a lot to take in right now," Kyle went on, "but, dude, come on, are you really that surprised to find out that I'm gay?"
"I mean, I thought I–"
"DUDE!" Stan finally interjected. "I'm not surprised because you're gay! I couldn't care less about that! I'm surprised because YOU JUST FUCKING KISSED ME!"
Kyle blinked dumbly. "So…" He paused, being careful to choose his next words. "You didn't like it?"
It was Stan's turn to blink dumbly. He looked down at the ground, his face starting to heat up. "I, uh…" he hesitated.
Just then, the bell conveniently rang, and Kyle, being the sexy, smart genius that he was, needed to get to class right away, because he was smart and sexy.
"We'll talk later, dude," he said, patting Stan's arm before running away.
"Damn, he runs fast," Stan thought.
Stan sat in his English class, barely paying attention to what the teacher was saying, because being the sexy jock that he was, he didn't have to worry about something as meaningless and unimportant as school. Who needed to be smart when you were hot, anyway? His good looks and amazing athletic abilities would clearly be enough to get him a full-time scholarship to any college he wanted.
However, being a sexy, cool jock wasn't the only reason Stan wasn't paying attention in class. After what happened in the hallway that morning, Stan couldn't stop thinking about Kyle. And that kiss. That aggressive, manly kiss. But Stan couldn't talk to anyone about it, let alone admit that he actually liked it, because he was a jock. Jocks weren't gay.
Still, he couldn't help it. Even though he was totally not gay, Stan had to admit that Kyle was a damn good kisser. In fact, he was the best kisser ever. Way better than Wendy. Like, for reals, if he hadn't been so shocked, he probably would've let Kyle do a lot more than just kiss him…a lot more…A LOT more…right there in the hallway…in front of everyone…with no protection…because jocks didn't get STDs, duh.
Stan found himself getting all hot and bothered just thinking about doing it with his best friend, but he snapped out of his naughty thoughts when a piece of paper landed on his desk. He looked down at it, and then in the direction the paper was thrown. He saw his hot, perverted friend, Kenny, sitting with his hands clasped together in his so-called innocent manner. He met Stan's gaze and gave him a mischievous, flirtatious grin, one that caused Stan's heart to jump.
"Uh oh," he thought.
Stan picked up the note and carefully unfolded it. He went pale upon reading what it said in Kenny's sloppy, barely legible handwriting:
You wanna have sex? ;)
It took Stan a few seconds to calm down, because he was pretty sure he was about to have a heart attack. Him and Kenny? Having sex? Together? Blasphemy!
He reached for his pen, hastily scribbled something on the paper, and handed it back to Kenny.
Dude, WTF? You're joking, right?
Kenny chuckled underneath his parka.
No way, man, I'm fucking serious. Come on, you're hot and sexy, I'm hot and sexy, so let's go have some hot and sexy man-on-man sex in the janitor's closet. ;)
Stan looked like he was about to pass out.
Dude! Stop fucking sexually harassing me!
At that point, Kenny was getting impatient with Stan. He wanted sex, and he wanted it NOW, dammit!
Come on, you're the star quarterback of the football team, for fuck's sake. You get sexually harassed all the time. ;)
Stan furrowed his eyebrows.
Dude, no I'm not. I'm on the lacrosse team.
Kenny mimicked Stan's expression.
The LACROSSE team?! WTF, man?! What are you, a faggot?! You're supposed to be a star athlete on the football team and be a total fucking stud and have a hot, chiseled, muscular chest that all of the girls wanna touch! ;)
After reading that, Stan came to the only logical conclusion there was: Kenny was fucking stoned out of his mind. He was just about to ask him if he was, until he noticed something else about the note.
Dude, why the hell do you put a ;) at the end of all your notes?
Kenny grinned again.
'Cause they make everything sound sexier. ;)
Stan couldn't help but smile at that. Even though Kenny was totally coming on to him, he knew – hell, everyone knew – Kenny was notorious for being the horniest kid in the entire school. He was a manwhore. He didn't care if it was with a boy or a girl. He just loved sex.
He glanced back at Kenny, who winked at him playfully. Damn, why was Kenny so hot? Stan sat there, staring into Kenny's gorgeous blue eyes, wondering what it would be like to actually have sex with him. He was definitely more than experienced, being a manwhore and all…
It would most likely be the hottest and sexiest sex ever.
Stan wrinkled up the note and stuffed it into his pocket, deciding that all of this was no big deal. He was just going to pretend like everything was completely normal, and that he wasn't just fantasizing about having rough, sweaty sex with Kenny…or Kyle.
During study hall, Stan quietly read a book about girls, because he was totally not gay, remember?
"Oh, shit, wait a minute," he thought. "Jocks don't read. We're too pretty to read!"
Stan closed the book and chucked it across the room. It hit Butters square in the head.
"Ow!" Butters cried, rubbing his head as he burst into tears.
"Goddammit, Butters, don't be such a pussy!" Cartman shouted. He wanted to smack Butters for being a total cry baby, but he was too lazy to get up. "Nice shot, Stan."
"Um, thanks?" Stan said warily.
"Hey, Butters," Cartman whispered.
Butters sniffled and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "Wh-What?" he asked, turning around to face the fatass.
Cartman smirked widely, biting his lower lip in order to hold back a laugh. "Did you see that movie last night, Gaywads Say No?" he asked, about to explode.
"N-No," Butters replied.
"SHHHHHH!" the bitchy teacher shushed from behind her desk. She completely missed Stan throwing his book at Butters' head just moments ago because she was too busy being bitchy. Obviously.
"Dude, sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," Stan said to Butters.
Butters started bumping his knuckles together. "I-It's okay, Stan," he said, smiling. It was impossible for him to be mad at Stan. He was just too pretty.
Stan smiled back at him, and as he did, he noticed what a nice, kind smile Butters had…
Oh, God, more gay thoughts? And about Butters? Now that was some seriously fucked up shit.
Both boys simultaneously looked away from one other, shamefully realizing that they were totally eye fucking each other just now.
Stan spent the rest of study hall picturing Butters naked. That didn't make him gay either because, hell, Butters was practically a girl. After all, what kind of boy liked playing Hello Kitty Island Adventure and once willingly agreed to dress up like a girl and infiltrate a sleepover just so the boys could get a hold of the girls' super cool future telling device?
Not a straight one, that was for sure.
"Hmm…I wonder what Stan would like look dressed up in a Hello Kitty costume," Butters thought, grinning slyly to himself as he imagined Stan with a big pink bow in his hair and huge Hello Kitty ears on his head.
Because that was just hot. Like, really, really, ridiculously hot.
Later that day, Stan walked in the hallway, on his way to his next class. He was so busy daydreaming about having sex with Kyle, Kenny, and Butters – all at the same, by the way, because jocks loved orgies – that he wasn't watching where he was going. He wound up violently crashing into someone.
"Ow," Stan whimpered, lying on the ground, his entire back aching in pain. Of course, it shouldn't have hurt him that much, considering he was a lacrosse player, and therefore he was used to tackling into people. However, for some reason, knocking into a random person was evidently way more painful than barreling through a bunch of guys with rippling muscles and large sticks.
"Holy shit!" Cartman said, squatting down next to Stan. "Are you all right?" he asked, deeply concerned for his friend, because Eric Theodore Cartman was definitely the most caring and compassionate person in the whole wide world.
"Cartman?" Stan said in confusion, looking up at his overweight, but also surprisingly handsome, friend. "What the hell are you–"
"Shh," Cartman said as he placed a finger over Stan's lips. "Don't speak."
Then, out of nowhere, a giant white horse came galloping into the hallway. It whinnied as Cartman climbed on top of it, his gorgeous brown hair blowing magnificently in the wind.
Stan raised an eyebrow, lifting his head to stare at Cartman, who was now inexplicably wearing silver, shining armor and holding a long sword.
"Dude, what the hell? Am I fucking high or something?" Stan asked.
"Come on, Stan, let's get the fuck outta here," Cartman said, motioning for Stan to join him on the horse.
Stan got to his feet, the pain having miraculously gone away. "Dude, Cartman…" he said slowly, looking from the horse to Cartman. "Where the fuck did this horse come from?"
The horse shook its flawlessly white mane.
"Whoa, easy, girl," Cartman said, gently stroking the horse's mane. "Look, Stan, don't ask questions. Just get your ass on the horse!"
"Dude…I'm not getting on that horse," Stan said flatly.
Cartman stared at him for a moment before letting out a long, exasperated sigh. "Fine," he said in defeat. He jumped off the horse, which promptly galloped away and disappeared somewhere into the unknown.
Stan gaped down the hallway in utter confusion, wondering where the fuck the horse had just gone. He turned back to Cartman, who was now magically wearing his normal clothes.
"Okay, um…wow. What the hell were you trying to do, Cartman?" Stan asked.
Cartman groaned impatiently. "I was trying to impress you with my super awesome amazing white stallion and my hot knight in shining armor costume."
Stan felt all of the blood drain from his face. "Wait, so…" He had to stop and think for a moment, because his tiny little jock brain was having trouble comprehending what was going on. "Does that mean you're gay for me, too?"
Cartman frowned. "Well, yeah," he said with a shrug. "Why else do you think I hate Kahl and Wihndy so much?"
"Because Kyle's a Jew and Wendy's a bitch?" Stan said.
"Well, that too," Cartman said, "but mostly 'cause they're always spending so much fucking time with you, and it pisses me off to no end. All I want is a chance to hang out with you alone so I can finally convince you to bang me!"
Stan fell silent after that, allowing everything Cartman just told him to soak in. He stared into space for over a minute.
"Damn," he finally said. "You, uh…you actually want to have sex with me?"
"Yes," Cartman said simply.
"Oh," Stan said. "Well, I–"
Cartman hushed him once more, this time by firmly grabbing him by the shoulders. Stan felt a weird sensation of déjà vu.
"What are you doing?" he asked nervously, gazing into Cartman's super sexy and irresistibly enticing chocolate eyes.
Cartman didn't answer him, though. Instead, he leaned in towards Stan ever so slowly, his deliciously chocolate eyes fluttering closed, his soft, pink lips puckering up.
Stan froze in Cartman's grasp. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, but he didn't know what the hell to do about it. Cartman just kept coming closer and closer. It was only a matter of seconds before their lips met.
For some fucked up, insane reason, Stan found himself closing his eyes, waiting in anticipation for their lips to touch.
"HEY!" a nameless, generic teacher said, popping his head out of a random door. Cartman immediately jumped away from Stan, but the annoying teacher kept babbling on. "What are you boys doing?! Where do you think you are, the parking lot of a T.G.I. Friday's?! Get to class!" He stepped back inside, slamming the door behind for no reason at all.
Stan and Cartman looked at each other, both feeling embarrassed. Cartman cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Um, well, I'm gonna…go to class, I guess. I'll see you later, or something," Cartman said, turning to leave.
"No, wait!" Stan said.
Cartman stopped and turned back around. "What?" he asked.
Stan stared at him, unsure what he even wanted to say. He didn't know which was worse, the fact that he was just about to let Cartman kiss him, or the fact that he was disappointed that they didn't actually get to.
Fuck, what the hell was wrong with him today?
"Never mind," Stan said meekly.
Cartman stood there looking at him for a few more seconds. "…'Kay," he said, turning around again and walking away.
After what seemed like an eternity, the school day finally came to an end. Stan was at his locker, hurriedly gathering his books so that he could get the hell out of there as quickly as possible and forget about this disturbing, fucked up day. Because it really was fucked up. Even for South Park, where fucked up shit happened literally every week. Every Wednesday night, to be exact. At 10:00 PM, Eastern time.
Somewhere in the distance, the sound of a fourth wall breaking could be heard.
Stan slammed his locker door shut, his backpack now filled with pretty much every book he had. He didn't actually have any homework, though – jocks didn't get homework, and even if they did, they would just get their super smart, super awesome best friend to do it for them.
Speaking of super smart, super awesome best friends…
"Hey, Stan," Kyle said, walking up to him. "Can we talk?"
Stan sighed. "Sure, dude, what's up?"
"Well, it's just that," Kyle began, the expression on his face changing from a thoughtful one to a more determined look as he said, bluntly, "I think you should break up with Wendy."
"What?" Stan asked.
"You heard me," Kyle said. "Dump that bitch and date me."
"Dude!" Stan said, a horrified look on his face. "Why the hell should I do that?!"
"Well," Kyle said, a proud smirk making its way to his lips, "for one, I have a perfect ass."
Stan paused at that, the look on his face softening as he went deep in thought. It was true. He really couldn't argue about that. Gay as it was to think, he knew for a fact that Kyle's ass was a masterpiece that had most likely been hand carved by the almighty God himself. He secretly wondered how anyone resisted the urge to squeeze one of those luscious, perfect cheeks…
"Stan?" Kyle waved his hand in front of Stan's face.
Kyle smirked knowingly. "Dude, you were totally just fantasizing about my sweet ass, weren't you?"
Stan blushed. "N-No."
Kyle's playful smirk only grew bigger. "Yeah, you were."
"Dammit, Kyle, let's have sex right now!" Stan randomly cried out.
"Whoa, really?!" Kyle asked, excited.
"Wait…" Stan stopped and thought about what he just said. "Which one of us is gay again?"
"I am," Kyle said.
"So…you don't want to have sex with me?" Kyle asked, disappointed again.
"Well, dude, I…I'm not gay," Stan said. "I'm in love with Wendy, remember?"
Kyle shrugged. "So? Oh, hey, where the hell is Wendy, anyway? I haven't seen her at all today."
"She's sick," Stan said.
"Ah," Kyle said, nodding. "How convenient." He smiled in that seductive way again and inched towards Stan, who promptly backed away.
"DUDE!" Stan screamed. He was starting to get all scared and nervous again, which, in case anyone forgot, was a major turn-on for Kyle.
"Come on, Stan!" Kyle said, desperately wanting to rip off Stan's clothes now. "Let's just fucking do it already!"
"No, Kyle!" Stan said. He ran a hand through his perfectly shiny, amazingly soft, jet black hair. Man, dealing with your best friend hitting on you like this was really exhausting. "All right, dude, listen," he said, looking Kyle right in his sexy, breathtaking, electric green eyes. "Maybe, one night, when I'm really, really piss drunk, and Wendy is off making out with Bebe in the bathroom just like that one time I caught her at Clyde's party, I'll let you feel me up in the car after I beg you to drive me home, since we all know you don't drink 'cause your parents would kill you, and you don't want to anyway because alcohol damages brain cells or whatever. Just know that I'll have no memory of it the morning after, and I'll only let you do it maybe five or six times when I'm drunk before I ever consider possibly doing it with you sober. Sound good?"
Kyle blinked, absolutely dumbstruck. All he could do was slowly nod his head in reply.
Stan smiled. "Awesome," he said, reaching out to give Kyle a quick pat on the shoulder. "I'll see you later, dude."
And with that, he walked away, leaving Kyle standing there by himself. He shook himself from his surprised daze, looking back and forth to make sure that nobody else was around.
"YES!" Kyle screamed out victoriously. "I WIN!"
"Goddammit, Jew!" Cartman shouted angrily.
Kyle turned to see Cartman and Kenny walking up to him, both looking annoyed.
"Yeah, that's right, fatass," Kyle said, folding his arms over his chest. "I won."
"This is bullshit!" Cartman said. "I dressed up like a fucking knight for fuck's sake! I totally deserved to win over you!"
"What about me?!" Kenny said.
"Shut up, Kinny," Cartman said with no emotion in his voice.
"Yeah, well, you lost, fatass," Kyle said. He extended his hand out to him, palm facing upward. "Now, pay up."
"W-Wait a minute, fellas," Butters said sheepishly. Where the hell did he come from? "I thought the bet was that whoever convinced Stan to have sex with him would win the fifty dollars."
"Yeah, exactly, and I won," Kyle said, growing annoyed. He just wanted his money already, because he was a Jew, and all Jews loved money. Even more than sex. Well…maybe equally.
"W-Well, but…you didn't actually have sex with him," Butters said. "S-So, uh, technically…you didn't win yet."
Cartman's face lit up. "Haha, YES!" he screamed in excitement. "You're goin' down, Jewboy! I'm gonna go change back into my super sexy knight costume. Get your money ready, fags!"
"Damn," Kenny muttered as Cartman ran off. "I guess it's time for me to turn up the charm. Bitches find this irresistible." He reached up and pulled off the hood of his parka, shaking out his super messy, super hawt golden blonde hair.
Butters rubbed his knuckles together. "I-I'm gonna go put on my Hello Kitty costume!" he said enthusiastically.
The two blondes quickly exited, leaving Kyle by himself once again.
"Dammit," he said. "I'd better hurry up and get the booze…"
Stan stood on Wendy's doorstep, freezing his ass off. He had already pounded on her door and rang the doorbell repeatedly, but there was still no one coming to answer the door. He realized he probably should've called earlier to let Wendy know he was coming over, but he just couldn't be bothered doing that. Because he was a jock. Gawl.
After about ten long minutes, a pale and disheveled-looking Wendy Testaburger finally opened the door. Her usually long, perfect hair was thrown into a sloppy bun, and she wore a pair of pink cotton pajamas with matching fluffy pink slippers. Her nose was red and her eyes were glassy. She started coughing as soon as she opened her mouth to speak.
"Oh, hi, Stan," she said, her voice raspy. "What are you–"
Stan cut her off right there by pressing his lips to hers. Wendy moaned in surprise, breaking off the kiss just as abruptly as it had begun.
"Stan, what the fuck–"
"Let's have sex," Stan said breathlessly. "Right now."
Wendy gave him an incredulous look. "What the hell is going on?"
"It's hard to explain," Stan said. "Let's just do it."
"I don't care that you're sick," he said, and he kissed her again, this time wrapping his arms around her body.
Wendy shrugged internally, giving into his lips and kissing him back passionately despite being sick. She decided she would save her annoying, bitchy questions for later.
Stan was just glad to be kissing his girlfriend.
See, he really wasn't gay!
He was just bisexual. Sort of.