[Patreon Exclusive] CHEER FOR THE TEAM: Chapter 2 (Patreon)

The summer break came to an end and the first day of my final year of school was upon me. It was strange, waking up for school in an empty house, having no one there to tell you to get ready, to make you breakfast, to tell you to be home in time for dinner. Hell, I was going to have to make my own dinner after school. I was halfway out the door when I was overwhelmed with the realization that I didn’t know anyone. Everyone at my new school probably had their friends and their cliques and I was going to be the little loner kid no one wanted to talk to.

And then I realized, I don’t even have to go to school. No one would stop me if I didn’t. If the school phoned the house and left a message, I could simply delete it and pretend it never happened. My dad would never be the wiser.

So for the first week of school, I didn’t go to school. I stayed at home, playing video games. It was every teenaged boy’s dream. But it got boring fast. I beat all of my games and I didn’t have any money for new ones. So I beat them again and again, and then I got so tired of them, I decided to retire from video games until I had something new to play. I found myself wandering the streets of my new Canadian town, looking into shop windows, wishing I had the money to do anything. That got boring fast, too.

The bowling alley had a sign on its door: Ladies bowl for free on weekdays. The movie theatre had a ladies’ night, too. And so did the skating rink, the local bar (one free drink per lady on Wednesday nights), and so on. I must have counted half a dozen establishments where women could eat, drink, and/or have fun for no cost whatsoever. I didn’t find a single man’s night anywhere.

I had fifty dollars, but it was supposed to last me until my dad was back. Sure, I could have spent it at the bowling alley or the movie theatre, but then what would I do? How would I eat? My dad would come home to a decomposing skeleton (not that he would have noticed anyway). I also had ten thousand dollars in my college savings account, which I was able to access now that I was eighteen. Though, I needed to save that for college—it wasn’t for the arcade or the bowling alley.

So I returned home with a lingering boredom in my heart and Kool and the Gang stuck in my head. I found myself going through my things, looking for something, anything to occupy my brain. Maybe it was time for me to go back to school, to stop avoiding the inevitable. There was no way I could avoid going to school forever. And the longer I waited, the worse off I was—God forbid I get held back and have to redo my final year.

Then I found that cheerleading outfit, the one my sister used to wear out on the field, the one I’d kept hidden away since that day I foolishly wore it to school. And then I had an idea—an idea that would solve more than one problem: I would become a woman.

I know, I know, I know—I know what you’re thinking. How would that solve any problems? Well, for starters, I knew of at least five different restaurants that had discounts for women on certain days of the week—not to mention the free bowling, the free movies, the free drinks, and so on. And at school, no one would mock me for being small, for having the petite body of a woman. And, for some reason, the thought of showing up to school as a woman seemed more comfortable than the thought of showing up as a man. I’m not sure I can explain it. When you’re a pretty lady—and I think I made quite the pretty lady—people treat you better. No one calls you a retard, a faggot, or a loser. I’m sure there is some female drama to deal with, but nothing could compare to that macho male harassment.

So I took my fifty dollars and went back down to the main drag where all of the shops were. I got a bra, a few tops, a couple of skirts, a pair of leggings, and a cheap little makeup kit. My fifty dollars were spent. I got a few weird looks, but I just lied and said I was shopping for my sister’s upcoming birthday. Now, I was relying on my femininity to survive.

I went home and tried on my haul, testing different tops with different bottoms, experimenting for hours in front of the mirror with my cheap makeup. Getting the voice down was tricky, but with some practice it came naturally. Then, before I went to bed, I laid out my outfit, set my alarm, and prayed that I hadn’t made the stupidest decision of my life—and I’d done some stupid things before.

When I walked through those school doors, my heart was racing. I just needed one person to question my disguise for everything to implode on itself, for this all to go from genius plan to complete disaster. But there were no strange looks, no shocked faces. Just a few smiles and the occasional guy checking out my ass. And that feeling that I hadn’t felt in a long time came rushing back to me, that feeling of belonging. I can’t think of another word to describe it, except belonging, like I belonged in that outfit, like I was meant to be a woman. It was a confusing thought, though, because I liked women. I didn’t like men. So was I a lesbian?

In fact, as I made my way towards the office where I was hoping to get a class list and some guidance, I noticed the most beautiful specimen on the planet—a petite, gorgeous blonde. She was dressed in a cheerleader’s outfit, pompoms in hand, on her way to gym class. The way she jogged to catch up with her friends was so precious, the way she giggled and smiled—she was an angel. Oh, what I would give to be with a girl so beautiful, so perfect in every way.

And then a sadness filled my heart. I would never get a woman like her, or any woman at all, as long as I, too, was a woman (and a woman with a cock, for that matter). Maybe this whole becoming a lady thing was a big mistake. Maybe I should have just owned up to who I was, a man of small stature, a born-loser, a lousy loner.

“Your name, please,” the secretary said.

“Kyla,” I said. “Kyla Douglas.”

She scanned a long list. “I don’t have a Kyla Douglas here—oh wait—hmm…” she said, staring at her list. “This must be a typo,” she said, but she didn’t say what. She didn’t need to say it, I knew what the ‘typo’ was. It was the M in the gender column, the E instead of an A at the end of my name. “I’ll just fix that really quick…” she said, making the amendments. It was a strange feeling, watching her change the name Kyle into Kyla, watching her scribble an F over an M. It was like my new identity was now official, like Kyle ceased to exist—maybe he never existed at all. Now there was only Kyla, the cute new girl from the United States. The secretary gave me a list of my classes and then said, “Welcome to Canada, Kyla!” She also gave me a stack of pamphlets—more benefits to being a woman. They were for female-only scholarships and grants. My God, I couldn’t believe how much money the government set aside just for women! I’ve never heard of a male-only scholarship, have you?

I’d passed my first big test—I’d fooled my first opponent. Now the question was, could I fool a whole classroom filled with horny boys and jealous girls? Could I fool an entire school? Turns out, it was easier than I thought. By the end of the day, I had two friends—cheerleaders for the school football team. I had (as far as I knew) two men with their eyes on me, and not a single question as to my real gender. My first day of school was a total success.

My first week of school was a success. For once in my life, I enjoyed going to school. I enjoyed the attention I was getting, from men and women, even from my teachers. I swear to God, teachers (both male and female) treat you way better when you’re a girl. I was discovering a whole world of special privileges I never knew existed.

I learned the name of the blonde beauty on the cheerleading squad: Georgia Jackson. Georgia was the squad leader, and everyone loved her (her squad mates and the football team). It was no wonder—she was gorgeous, with her long, slender legs, and her perky rack.

My friends told me I should join the cheer squad with them, and I wanted to. There was only one issue (well, two issues, depending on how you look at it): tits. I didn’t have tits. I had toilet paper and an A-cup bra. The cheerleading outfits showed off those girls’ tits shamelessly. Not to mention, with all that jumping and bouncing around, my toilet paper façade was bound to fall out. But I had an idea and it involved my college money. Besides, with the mountain of scholarships I knew I could get as a woman, I didn’t need the ten grand.

A week later I was on a Greyhound bus, destined towards the big city. I had an appointment to go under the knife, to take a step closer to really becoming a woman.