NOTE: This is my first fan fic so go easy on me! :D Give reviews though by all means PLEASE!

This story is taken and adapted from a stage that I had in my life during early secondary school. I thought I'd use the whole SP Stan-Kyle thing because I've read plenty of them and a few have really hit me.

So I thought I'd throw out my own for the lolz ;D

"Damn Kyle!" exclaimed Clyde as he gazed up in awe at the two of us, both our eyes locked in challenging anticipation.

"Well, Stan?" I asked, my smirk growing as fast as his was falling. "I'll repeat. I dare you to whip it out and let us see what the big fuckin' deal is with your 'fat one!'

"Fuck off Jew, you should pick a better way of coming out to your best friend than this, fag!" Stan sneered back at me.

"Oh-ho-ho!" I retorted. "You've changed your tune! Not five minutes ago were you going on, yet again, about how 'satisfied' you left Wendy, how she 'begged for more' and now, look who's suddenly become all mouth and no trousers!"

"Shut up daywalker" Stan shot back. "I know what I'm capable of! And It's more than you are anyway!"

"So then prove it" I whispered, menacingly into Stan's ear, my grin slowly growing.

Stan's sly smirk resurfaced. "That's it! I counter-dare you to do it too!" he challenged.

I chortled. "This guy, huh Clyde? a 'counter-dare' Oh Stan. Stanny, Stanny, Stanny, Stanny..." I paused, adopting a brief expression of deep thought. "Challenge accepted" I grinned.

Once more, Stan's face fell. He hadn't counted on me accepting his pathetic attempt to weasel out of this dare and to be honest, nor did I. The fuck am I thinking? What if he actually has out-grown me since the whole "TMI" fiasco four years ago? I did not feel like having my junk become the subject of gossip. I turn to Clyde. "Dude, fuck off for a bit will you?"

"God I thought you'd never ask!" He sighed in relief as he turned and made his way back toward the main field and to the others, playing a game of 'Kick the British kid' with you-know-who.

No sooner did he leave as I felt a compelling urge to go first and to get this over with. Much to Stan's dismay at my hastiness, I undid my buckle and zip. Moving my hand simultaneously I pushed down my boxers, exposing myself in all of its glory. I thought nothing of it, just whipped it out.

"Sick dude!" Stan exclaimed after a few seconds of looking. I noticed that his laughter sounded more forced than genuine. He seemed a bit off. Afraid of being seen, I hastily re-did my buckle and zipper.

"Wow" said Stan, seemingly distanced. "So that's what a ...cicurmsiled one looks like, huh?" I laughed and corrected him on his mistake and putting emphasis on the word. "Just call it 'cut'" I smiled at him which he returned.

"Ok then" I grinned, "show me what you got." Gone was the fix-everything smile again, that trademark cheeky grin.

"Ermm..." he hesitated, looking evidently nervous. "It's getting late, bells will be ringing soon." "So? What's a few seconds difference gonna do?" I retorted, expecting this.

"It's cold"

"It's summer"

"The others will come back over"

"No they wont"

"Teachers will see"

I sighed, getting tired of lame-ass excuses he was spouting and his deer-trapped-in-the-headlights look he was giving me. "Just cut the bullshit Mr Marsh, I did it now it's your turn"

"Alright" he caved in, his anxiety increasing. "But this doesn't prove jack shit, dude. Its freezing outside, fucking keep that in mind." I nodded, unusually eager.

Slowly he took off his belt, his jeans falling a few inches and exposing a tattered pair of boxers. Delicately, he pried them open to reveal the contents, like a locket with something personal inside.

I gasped and recoiled, shocked. "What the FUCK is that thing!"

What lay before me was what I could only describe as the direct opposite of my member. Small and I mean really small and foreskin hanging off in excess. Certainly not the 'fat one' that he had hyped about. I couldn't help it. In moments I was bent-double laughing my ass off at the fiasco that stood infront of me. I laughed and whooped till my ribs hurt and I was gasping. As soon as I would slow down, a fresh wave of raucous laughter would posess me and I'd be back to square one.

I could see Stan put his belt back on at near lightning speed, what I couldn't see, though, was his face. Amidst some fresh laughter, I opened my eyes just enough to see a droplet of water hit the dry dirt next to Stan's shoes. I almost immediately stopped laughing and raised my face to meet his.

His face had contorted and twisted with hurt, incensed. Shaking with sobs, he looks straight at me with tears streaming and leaving their red trails in their wake along his skin. The sky blue eyes, those hurt eyes gazed into mine are magnified by the tears.

"Dude, I..." I began, horrified at the reaction I had caused but he cut me off, shoving me. Hard. "Fuck you" He sobbed, his lips trembling before turning and storming off toward the main building.

I pick myself up, half prepared to go after him enraged. Then I halted, calming down. "What the fuck did I do?!" I think to myself. "Not my fault he has a needle-dick!" Serves him right for boasting like It was God's gift or something. It was always "Wendy loves this, Wendy loves that, blah blah fucking blah!" The more I hear about him spending time with that slut the madder I get. "He deserved to be taken down a peg" I told myself aloud. "You've wanted to do this for a long time."

I stopped and looked at Stan going further and further away from me, his watery, sad eyes implanted in my head, refusing to leave me.

Why do I feel so bad for him now?

AFTERWORD: So... Yeah that's the first chapter I guess, let me know what you thought and if I get a decent call for it, I'll up the next chapter which is all ready to go :D