He Wasn't Even A Boy! - Chapter 19

 

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Disclaimer: All characters depicted in this story are 18 years of age or older at the time of the events described. This work is intended for a mature audience and complies with all applicable content guidelines regarding age-appropriate material. It is purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only. The content is not meant to promote or endorse any real-life actions. Reader discretion is advised. Enjoy responsibly within the context of fantasy.

Note - This story is a work of fiction. All characters, names, and events are purely imaginary and bear no relation to real people, living or dead. Any resemblance is purely coincidenta

I felt ever so grateful to have these young women in my life. After I got under control, Karen said to Sue, "Is she going to go through the..."

"Initiation? No, I think that's a bit much to expect of her," Sue replied. Nervousness again. "What's the initiation?" I asked. "Well... as you know, we wear the uniforms once a week. There's a tradition we have for a new cheerleader." She hesitated and actually blushed. Karen picked it up.

"When a new girl wears her uniform to school for the first time, she puts on the skirt, the blouse, and the vest. But she doesn't put on the..."

"What?" I asked, growing a little exasperated. "Her tights!" all four of the cheerleaders laughed at once.

"Wait a minute..." Arleen chuckled. "You know, I'd wondered about that," she said. Sue spoke up again, noting my confusion. "I keep forgetting you used to be a boy, so you probably aren't up on all the details.

You see, Stephanie, cheerleaders wear matching tights under their skirts; they're really special panties that go over the girls' underwear. It gives her a little modesty, which we all need, considering how short these skirts are.

Years ago, a ritual got started among the Milford cheerleaders (don't ask me how) when a new girl was welcomed onto the squad, she had to spend one day at school, in the uniform, without tights." "But that would mean..." I said, almost horrified.

"Yep. Everyone would see her panties. Her everyday panties. There's no way for a girl to keep them from peeking out when she's dressed like that. And you know how boys are..."

I had to laugh. "Yeah, I think I do."

"But we don't expect you to carry on like that. We know you're kind of a special case." Sue tried to reassure me. I thought I'd caught a glimpse or two of underwear beneath a cheerleader's skirt over the years. But as a boy, I had no awareness of feminine apparel, so I just enjoyed the view. Now, though, it would be my turn. They were offering me an out should I take it?

"Did all of you go through this?" I asked. They nodded. "Then I will too. Just promise not to laugh, okay?" The whole squad applauded me. "That's our girl!" one commented.

"And the tradition goes on," Sue said. "Needless to say, you'd better wear your prettiest undies because every guy in the school will be seeing them." I shuddered.

What had I gotten into? Oh, well. Besides, there was a naughty part of me that liked the idea of teasing the boys. After that, we turned to other topics.

More conversation, snacks, music, and so on. It was a lot of fun. And of course, no slumber party would be complete without the interruption by the annoying little brother.

His name was Chuck, about 13 or so Becky caught him on the stairs, spying on us. Several of us squealed, pretending to be shy. I just stood, frozen in place as the young boy studied my appearance, open-mouthed. Jesus, I'd thrown footballs around with this kid and now he was seeing me in frilly baby-doll pajamas! I blushed.

"Cute panties!" he said admiringly to me as Sue ordered him back upstairs.

I ruefully shook my head, that was just a taste of what I would go through when I wore my cheerleading suit to school. God help me.

And yet, I wasn't entirely unhappy. Later, Arleen and I got a quiet moment. She eyed me up and down I could tell she was very pleased with my outfit. "I just wanted to thank you for inviting me, Stephanie.

You know I don't get out much, and you know why. But tonight's been a lot of fun," she smiled at me. "I'm really glad, Arleen. It meant a lot to me to have you here."

"And I'm so happy for you for joining the squad and all. I mean - I usually look upon cheerleading as a construct of the patriarchy intended to indoctrinate young girls for a life of being sex objects..."

I laughed at the classic, clichéd analysis. "I take it you've already audited a women's studies course over at the university." She laughed too.

"Well, maybe it's not that bad. But in your case, it's just right. It's the camaraderie, being accepted for what you've become. You're a classy dame, Stephanie." "So are you, Arleen."

We exchanged a hug and rejoined the others. As my mom had said, we talked and giggled for another hour before finally crawling into our sleeping bags. My pajama top kept riding up on me, but the outfit was so silky smooth and fun to wear, I really didn't mind. And we didn't get up until noon.

When I got home, Mom was eager for all the details. I gave her a little hell for tricking me into the silly baby-dolls. "

'Fess up. You loved it," she smiled.

"Well..."

"I see you've still got a hint of boy left in you. You seemed to feel you had to pretend to detest looking like the cutie you are.

But I can tell you're falling for it, Stephanie. You just can't resist dressing like a girly-girl because deep inside, you don't want to be anything else."

"You don't know the half of it." I showed her the cheerleading outfit. Her eyes widened.

"I see Sue's raised the ante," she said in wonder as she held up the pleated mini-skirt. "Are you going to wear it?"

"Yep, tomorrow, along with the rest of the squad."

There was a mixture of emotions on my mother's face. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"For years, I've always considered cheerleading the wrong activity for young women. I don't like the idea of girls standing on the sidelines, encouraging boys. I'd rather see them on the field in their own right."

"You sound like Arleen."

"But on the other hand, when I was in high school, I wanted to be a cheerleader more than anything. I never made it so my disdain is probably sour grapes." She paused, then smiled wryly. "I can't believe it I'm jealous of my son, who's now more of an icon of girlhood than I ever was." We both started to laugh.

The whole thing was so ridiculous. And yet there I was, the next morning, getting dressed as a cheerleader. I was careful in my selection of panties, because I was certain they would be on display.

Much as I'd come to love the feel of nylon hipsters, I knew they would be dangerous they were far too sheer to risk. Instead, I pulled on a pair of white cotton Olga briefs with a hint of lace. Obviously feminine, but not too racy.

Then it was time for the navy skirt, which was absurdly short, reaching only partway down my thighs. I put on the sweater-vest combo and headed for the mirror. Reluctantly, I left the matching blue pantyhose behind. For the umpteenth time, I was amazed at the sight of myself.

Each new outfit I put on drove home the point. I was such a... a... girl! I spun in a circle, testing the suit. My pleats swirled up, and I caught a flash of white. No doubt about it if I wasn't very, very cautious, my feminine undies would show to one and all. With apprehension, I made my way to the school bus, careful to keep my hands near my hem in case any breezes rose up.

I felt soooo exposed! And yet, there was a part of me that was pleased to be dressed like this.

I suspect that there's a strong streak of exhibitionism in many, if not most, women. It's a balancing act.

A girl doesn't want to seem trashy as if she's flaunting her body. And yet she does want to appear sexy, albeit in an innocent way. Bikinis, mini-skirts, cute dresses, and such are ways for a girl to show off, without looking as though she's trying to do so.

But I was also learning the little thrill a girl feels when she knows she looks nice. And my outfit was perfect for the task. Inadvertently revealing. After all, what use are pretty panties if no one can see them?

God, what has happened to me? On the bus, I sat next to Arleen, being ever so cautious with my skirt. It was so damn short I couldn't even tuck it under me.

I had to sit with my panties directly touching the bench, and carefully arrange the skirt in a circle around my hips. But I knew an alert boy could still catch a glimpse. Or an alert girl.

"Nice legs," Arleen commented discreetly checking me out once again. I smiled at the routine we'd developed.

We both knew we would never sleep together, but for the first time in her life, Arleen was free to acknowledge her sexuality. She could flirt with me and know I'd appreciate it.

And I did as an ex-boy, I could still enjoy having a pretty girl desire me. We felt safe with each other.

The reaction of the kids to my status as a cheerleader was predictable. More gasps, jaw-dropping, whispers, etc.

By now, though, I was thick-skinned enough to stop a MOAB. It just didn't bother me.

Though I was adjusting to the skimpy costume, I felt a lot more comfortable when I hooked up with Sue, Karen, and the rest of the squad all dressed the same as me. There's something about a uniform, no matter what the circumstances, that bonds people.

They pulled me into the girls' room. "Well?" Sue asked, smiling. The other girls were smiling as well. I quickly figured out what they wanted. Blushing, I lifted my skirt to show my compliance with the silly hazing.

They responded with delight.

"Nice panties.", "Cute butt." and so on. Then the jokes stopped. "You belong with us, now," Sue said.

"And we're glad to have you," Karen added. I smiled at them warmly. I really had become one of the girls. God knows the boys were reacting to me as such. The initial shyness they had around me was long gone. As a cheerleader, I'd become a target of male attention to a degree I'd never experienced before.

Yet I could sense the power I had, too. Just like at the pool party, the guys were in such awe of my body I could have gotten them to carry my books, buy me snacks or maybe sign over the titles to their cars.

I had to restrain myself from abusing their attention. I didn't want to lead them on. Besides, there was only one guy on my mind. Hal's reaction to seeing me as a cheerleader was intense. He looked as if he were ready to scoop me up, carry me off to a bed somewhere, and make love to me.

I was terrified to realize that if he had tried, I probably would have let him. And further proof of my girlhood was on the way.

Halfway through math class, I felt a little strange. Not another orgasm, thank God but still, oddly damp. I went to the bathroom to check things out. There was blood on the crotch of my panties. Just a few drops but it was undeniable. I was starting my period.

I slumped against the wall in amazement. A couple of weeks ago, the thought of being forced to endure a girl's period would have horrified me. Now... well, I can't say I welcomed it.

While I knew most young girls looked forward to their first menstrual cycle, I was hardly in that category. I hadn't put in their time as a prepubescent female, being programmed with breathless anticipation for the event.

And yet I was pleased in an odd way.

For this was, at age seventeen, the same experience other girls had at age twelve, an affirmation of womanhood and a sign of maturity. And that was reassuring to me. But it was also more proof that I could never be a man again.

Another door slamming shut on the life I might have had - if I hadn't been hit with GB. And there was still enough boy in me to regret the loss. Jack was gone forever; my bloodstained underwear left no doubt of that.

I sighed, reached into my purse, and clumsily put the pantiliner in place. That would hold me for now, though I knew my flow would increase over the next day or so, and I would have to deal with... tampons. Yuck.

Of course, this HAD to happen on the day I was wearing a cheerleader's uniform, sans tights. Which made concealing my panties more than a matter of simple modesty.

It was one thing for everyone to see I was a cute girl in cute undies. It was something else for everyone to see that I was riding the crimson wave. But it was impossible to keep my guard up every second.

While at my locker, I suddenly felt my skirt being lifted all the way to my waist. I gasped out in shock, frantically pulling at the hem, trying to cover up. I whirled in anger to see the mocking leer of Andy Marks.

"Well, well, Miss Lind. I'm a little disappointed I thought you'd be a thong girl." "Don't try to think, Marks, at least until the Ripley's Believe It Or Not crew arrives to document it."

"You're certainly making progress. Seems like you're in a shorter skirt every time I see you."

"And it seems like you're more of an asshole every time I see you." "Such a big mouth for such a small girl. I'm looking forward to filling it." He loomed a little closer, but there were a few kids around, and I knew he couldn't try anything physical. Still, I was intimidated and I hated feeling that way.

"By the way, what was that tiny bulge in your panties? It couldn't be what you used to have, not even you were that under-endowed as a guy."

I wanted to come back with another retort, but instead, thinking of the pantiliner nestled snugly against my vagina, I just blushed. He may have been a jerk, but he figured it out.

"You're on the rag, aren't you? You really did turn into a perfect little pussy, eh?" He seemed almost amazed.

"And what's your excuse?" I responded. "I guess I'll have to wait a few days before I arrange for some quality time for us. But don't worry, Stephanie, our time will come. In every way."

The bell rang before this delightful repartee could continue. But as he left, I caught that strange look in his eyes again. There was a subtext here I was missing. While I pondered it, my cell rang. It was Mr. Martin, my attorney.