Chapter 1: Stan

Okay. So. I… I'll try to relate this as coherently/objectively as I can, but I have such an adrenaline high right now and I'm freaking out and I don't know if it's in a good or a bad way, so… Anyways.

After I got ready for bed and said 'night to the family, I stripped down to my underwear (black boxer briefs tonight) and got on my laptop like I always do, to check Facebook and dick around and watch porn to jerk off. I'd found Chaturbate recently. I've always liked cam shows – the amateur nature, the interactivity – and Chaturbate was free to join and chat. I never cammed myself, of course, and I couldn't buy tokens without a credit card, so I usually scanned the first page for anyone super-hot, then skipped to the last and chatted with the exhibitionists. I don't have tokens; they don't want any: a perfect match.

When I started on the site, I watched the girls, of course. I'm a horny teenage guy. But recently I've started checking out the guys too. I think it's the taboo of it that turns me on, honestly. I mean, I even then I'm drawn to the feminine-looking guys – fair-skinned, blushing, young-looking, skinny, hairless – twinks, I guess. So probably the taboo turning me on, not the cocks.

Anyways, here I was tonight, checking out the first page of guys. There was a new guy – broflove – who from the thumbnail looked like he had a red bush (I've always been partial to gingers) and a huge dick. Like, we're talking at least 9-10" of cock here. I decided to check him out even though he already had over 500 viewers.

…My gut reacted before I did. It clenched up into a tight knot a half-second before I consciously realized – I know that room. I know that window. Those Terrence and Philip sheets. Fuck, I know the back of that hand better than I know my own.

I was watching my Super Best Friend, Kyle Broflovski, pleasure himself. What. The. Fuck.

My immediate reaction was to get the fuck out, X out, just get myself out of the situation. But for whatever messed-up reason, I didn't.

I mean – he is hot. Not gonna lie. I'm a little mesmerized by that dick. I always thought I had a pretty nice dick – 6.5", just about. But this – this was perfection. Not pencil thin or scary thick or veiny – just perfectly proportioned. A nicely trimmed bush (no wonder I'd never seen a treasure trail) and a light dusting of hair on his balls.

But – the knot in my stomach was still churning away. This was – wrong. A violation of privacy. There are like 600 people watching my Super Best Friend jerking off. No one should see that except for me.

Wait… what.

No. It's wrong because I shouldn't be watching him without his knowledge. What he does on his own time is his own business. He's his own person.

My gut clenched even tighter in response. No. No, he's not. We're our own person. That's how it's always been. Since we lived right down the street from each other, our moms arranged playdates for us back when we were babies. We did everything together as kids. Our parents thought it was cute how inseparable we were and even encouraged it, I think. They weren't his parents or my parents – they were our parents.

Even when we started school, we were always in the same classes. (Not such a surprise in elementary – just one class per grade – but even in middle and high school we made sure to sign up for the same classes). We met Cartman and Kenny and the four of us hung out, but it was never quite equal. Kyle and I would share secret glances, make sure to stand next to each other, even hold hands when we were little (until we realized Cartman was right and it was kind of super gay).

Sleepovers started in first or second grade. They'd happened before – usually when one set of parents was out of town – and it was always great, snuggling up on the same bed, listening to him breathe as I fell asleep. But now Kyle had decided we should have weekly sleepovers every Friday night. He had come up to me after school one day, eyebrows up, looking anxious. "Hey, Ley," he said as we started walking home. I turned my head to give him my full attention. Everyone called me Stan. My family called me Stanley. Only Kyle called me Ley, and only when we needed to talk about something Super Serious.

"Hey, Ky," I replied gently, to let him know I was paying him all my attention. "What's up?"

"I've been thinking…" he began, and trailed off, biting his lip. He only did that around me. Usually he was Mr. Confident, always having a plan, knowing what to do, but when it was just us, he was suddenly – vulnerable. Like how I reacted mattered more to him than anything else in the world.

"Mmm?" I prompted.

"Well, I really like when we have sleepovers, and we're always over each other's houses, so… I was wondering… Could we make it a regular thing? Like, I dunno, weekly?" He'd been looking at the sidewalk in front of us as he talked, but now he turned his face to me, eyebrows up even higher than before, corners of his mouth tight in anticipation.

"Dude," I said. "Yes."

It was one of those moments when Kyle's whole face lit up, his mouth relaxing into a toothy grin, his green eyes sparkling, a blush of joy filling his cheeks. He stopped walking. I held out my hands to take his – things always felt more special when we held hands – but he bypassed that and flung his arms around my neck instead. Surprised, I almost fell over (even though I was a couple inches taller!), but I caught myself and hugged him back tight.

We didn't talk about it anymore on the way home, since we didn't need to. We knew how we felt. That night, Kyle did that taking-charge thing he does and before I knew it, we were set to have sleepovers every Friday after school.

Since we were so young, at first it wasn't much more than a normal playdate. We'd play outside, have dinner, and get ready for bed right after. I packed an overnight bag the first couple of times, but we quickly realized we should just leave clothes and things at each other's houses.

But sleeping together – that was the best part. I had a teddy bear at home, of course (although I never had an unhealthy attachment to it like Cartman did with his Clyde Frog…), but I always slept better with Kyle. We'd stay up whispering to each other until one of us fell asleep. Kyle always fell asleep first. And when we woke up, Kyle always had his arms around me, like I was his teddy bear. Every damn time. I usually woke up first and just lay there, content with the world in those timeless moments.

Fourth grade changed everything, while really changing nothing. That was the year of all of the insane supernatural adventures. That was the year that we became Super Best Friends. No, scratch that. That was the year that we realized we were Super Best Friends. A lot of messed-up things happened. Most of the time, I was fucking terrified. Or, I would have been, if Kyle weren't there. Somehow, everything was just on this side of okay if I could see him, touch him, know we were in this together. And he needed me too. In public, even when it was just us, Kenny, and Cartman, he was his normal, take-charge, in-control self. But when it was just the two of us, especially if we'd been separated, well…

Of course we'd seen each other cry. We were little kids; we cried all the time. But the first time I really saw Kyle cry was the night we realized we were Super Best Friends, after I'd saved him from being murdered by the Blaintologists. He'd held himself up well in public – like literally always – but it was a Friday. When we got home (my house, this week), he didn't say anything. He followed me listlessly up the stairs, which was unusual for him. Usually he'd be chattering away by now, me smiling and nodding and loving that he only acted this way around me.

When we reached my room, I let him go in first, then closed the door behind us. I reached out to take his hands, but instead he flung his arms around me. It was tighter than ever before, but not for a second did it feel like he was trying to squeeze the life out of me. No, I could tell he was trying to keep the life in me, to make sure I was solid, was real – was his.

Before I even had time to consciously process anything, I was squeezing him back – I'm here, I'm real, I'm yours.

For a while, we didn't say anything. I was still taller than him, so he buried his head in my chest, and I was just able to rest my chin on top of his head, completely enveloping him. At first, he was just breathing heavily as I rubbed big circles on his back. But soon his body was wracked by sobs, soaking the front of my shirt in the process, probably with snot in addition to tears. But there was no shame. For one thing, we were nine-year-old boys – what's a little snot between friends? But more importantly, we both needed this.

Gradually, gradually, the sobs subsided and his body stilled. (To be fair, I was absolutely crying too, so I guess I should say our bodies stilled.) And the first thing he said? "I almost lost you, Ley. I almost lost you."

What the hell, Kyle. You almost just died. You should be thinking about yourself, that you're alive. Your family. Something. But no. You thought of me.

And now I was the one sobbing, and though nothing physically changed, suddenly he was holding me.

I don't remember how, but we somehow made it over to my bed, lying next to each other, still holding on just as tight. Our breathing slowed, the tears stopped flowing. We were both absolute wrecks and would have been humiliated for life if anyone else had seen us separately, never mind cuddling together – but just lying there, covered in mucus and sweat and tears, our breathing aligned, felt like the most perfect thing in the entire world.

By silent mutual agreement, we didn't come out for dinner that night, and my parents were smart enough not to knock. We fell asleep at some point, all tangled up. In that place halfway between real life and dreams, I felt Kyle's breath right in my ear.

"Ley…" he started, and paused. "Ley, I love you."

"Ky," I whispered back, "I love you too."

Neither of us mentioned it in the morning, but we both knew it wasn't a dream.

So, no. No, goddammit! He is not his own person. He has no right to show off that perfect body of his to anyone but me, never mind hundreds of random strangers on the internet.

I had to stop this.

Now, whenever my dad's drunk in public, he usually ends up in his underwear. Which means his pants get left behind. Which means someone has to pick them up. Which means me. I know. Super gross, super embarrassing. But – his pants have his wallet, and his wallet has his credit cards. I may have borrowed some numbers in case of emergency. I doubt he of all people would notice. I mean, he might even have his own Chaturbate account.

…Ew…

Moving on.

I quickly entered some information and thank god it went through. Now that I have some tokens…

XMallow has requested a private show with broflove.

(Yes, I know. I thought it was clever.)

A pause – the requisite profile-checking to make sure that I'm not some 90-year-old perv – and then:

broflove has accepted your private show request.

…Great plan. Now what. Fortunately, he took charge.

broflove: hey

XMallow: hey, hru?

broflove: good. horny haha, you?

XMallow: yea, me too.

XMallow: can we talk for a bit 1st tho?

broflove: yea sure, what about?

XMallow: i dunno dude

XMallow: like tell me about you

XMallow: like are you gay?

broflove: yea haha

Fuck. I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.

Kyle was gay? Is gay? What the hell, man? Why the fuck hadn't he told me? Why was I learning this just now? Why was he telling RANDOM STRANGERS ON THE INTERNET something he hadn't told me, his Super Best Friend?

But was I completely blindsided? Not if I was really being honest with myself. Kyle'd never had a girlfriend. Never talked about wanting one. Never brought up girls, except to agree with me when I wanted to talk about them. He'd only ever briefly mentioned having a crush in the most general terms – for obvious reasons now.

But if he's gay… I thought back again to our sleepovers.

Ever since that night, we'd gotten even closer, if that was possible. Mostly, it was in private. He'd always find a way to touch me, to be in physical contact with me. He'd play footsies with me under the dinner table. Wrestling became more frequent. He'd pick dog hair off my shirt, or run his fingers through my hair. Our knees would touch when we played video games, our elbows would brush when we did our homework.

I asked him about it a couple months in. "I dunno, Dude," he said. "It just kind of makes me feel safe, y'know?" And he looked at me with his eyebrows up, like I could crush his entire world with a single word. "Is it okay?"

"Dude," I said. "Yes."

So that's just how it went from then on. At first, I didn't really care one way or the other – and if it was important to Kyle, well, it was important to me too. But gradually, I came to appreciate it for its own sake. It got to the point where the absence was noticeable, like an unscratched itch. At home, I'd start initiating contact. School was harder – I'd be as discreet as I could, but Cartman still managed to rag on us so sometimes I just had to deal with the itch all day until our walk home.

The sleepovers continued, of course. Somewhere around seventh or eighth grade, our parents sat down with us and told us it was time to stop sharing a bed, that we were too old and too big – and strongly implying it was too gay (actually, I think Randy might have said that last out loud…). So, every Friday night, we dutifully rolled out the sleeping bag and rumpled it up and got into bed side-by-side like we always did.

But ever since that night, there was no pretending. Kyle just wrapped his arms around me right from the start. Sometimes I let him be the big spoon, sometimes I faced him and hugged him back. Either way, our legs were all tangled up, and it felt like we were more one person than two. No matter what else had been happening in life, I never slept better than when I had Kyle curled around me.

In the back of my mind, I knew this wasn't normal. That Cartman and Kenny and Clyde and Token and Craig and Tweek never did anything like this. (Well, actually, maybe Craig and Tweek did…) But – we were Super Best Friends, I told myself. It didn't have to be gay if we didn't want it to be.

Except – Kyle did, it seemed. That gave a new meaning to all the morning wood we ignored at first and then giggled over… I knew he was hung, but I'd never seen it – before tonight.

And there it was, still on the screen in front of me.

broflove: what about you?

broflove: are you gay?

Fuck. Double fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I mean, it's not like I have a problem with gay people. I just – wasn't one, y'know? I still hung out with Craig and Tweek. But I had a girlfriend. Wendy and I had dated in elementary school, of course. We spent middle school apart, but we started dating for real in high school, near the end of freshman year. We went on dates and made out in the hallways, and in cars once we got them. She wanted to wait until marriage, which I was surprisingly okay with. (She'd started talking about oral sex recently, but I'm not sure I'm ready for that.)

But not everything was perfect. We actually fought a fair amount – mostly about Kyle, come to think of it. And it was usually my fault. The time we passed Kyle as we were heading to the ice skating rink and I decided to invite him and ended up skating mostly with him. The time Wendy bought concert tickets for a Friday night and I didn't go with her because, well, because it was Friday night. The time I cancelled a dinner date because Kyle's eyebrows had been raised the whole walk home from school, so we just cuddled in bed all afternoon – that's what he needed, so that's what I gave him. Actually, not too long ago, in one of our fights, Wendy had shouted, "Sometimes I feel like you're dating Kyle instead of me!"

But… but… I sighed.

XMallow: i dunno dude

XMallow: i have a gf

XMallow: but i think maybe i might be bi?

And now the most important question, maybe of my whole life.

XMallow: do you have a crush on anyone?

broflove: yea haha

broflove: i think he's straight tho :/

I sucked in my breath.

XMallow: tell me about him

As he started typing, his cock still hard, I thought seriously for the first time about Kyle having a crush on someone. It would be weird for him to have a girlfriend, just because he's never shown any interest. But I could get over that, because I have Wendy. That's just how life goes, even with Super Best Friends. But if he had a crush on a guy. Like who? Token was pretty attractive. Clyde has that boy-next-door look. Kenny, if he likes bad boys, rough on the edges but still damn attractive. But – how could he like a guy besides me? Even though I knew he couldn't see me, my eyebrows raised of their own volition. I'd just handed Kyle my life.

broflove: well he's super cute obviously

broflove: he has black hair and these piercing blue eyes

broflove: and we've been best friends since literally forever

broflove: but he doesn't know i'm gay

broflove: and i can't tell him

broflove: i can't

broflove: because i would literally die if i lost him

broflove: sorry for dumping that on you

broflove: you're here for a show, not my problems

Shit. We were still in a show on a fucking webcam site.

XMallow: dude wait up

XMallow: i want you to do something for me

broflove: yea?

Shit. His dick was rising again. No. Not like that.

XMallow: i want you to stop camming tonight

XMallow: if you wanna jack off that's fine, just not on the internet

XMallow: and if you still want, we can do another show tmrw night? so you wont lose out on tokens that way?

broflove: uh okay?

broflove: if that's what you want?

broflove: you sure?

XMallow: yea im sure dude

broflove: ok then

broflove: see you tomorrow night ;-)

And just like that, he was gone.

So now I need a plan for how to tell my Super Best Friend that I saw his enormous cock and I know he's gay for me and I might maybe possibly be gay for him too. Well. I'm fucked.