[Patreon Exclusive] CHEER FOR THE TEAM: Chapter 3 (Patreon)

I returned to school two weeks later with a new set of B-cup breasts. They were still a bit firm, but the doctor said it would take a couple of weeks for them to relax and feel more natural. It was nice to ditch the toilet paper alternative, to not have to worry about accidentally bumping them out of place or dropping them altogether. My new tits weren’t going anywhere. They were part of me, and they couldn’t have felt better. Finally, I was able to show them off, button down my shirts to show off a little bit of cleavage. And finally, I was able to try out for the cheerleading squad.

I practiced for a week, getting my friends to help me memorize the routines. It all came very naturally to me. I made the squad, no problem. The other girls all threw a small celebration for me—for the first time in my life, someone threw a celebration for me. Men started talking to me, all of the girls who didn’t make the team threw jealous dagger stares in my direction. There is nothing more confidence building than the collective jealousy of a school full of hot, young girls. Life was great.

And best of all, my cheer partner was Georgia Jackson. It was my job to hold her cartwheels, her job to hold mine. She was always next to me. I could always see her through the corner of my eye. I revelled in the feeling on her soft, warm hands on my body. And my God, was she stunning. She made it look so easy, so sexy. Just the way she shook her pompoms made me drool. The way her skirt rose up when she moved, as if it was lighter than the air itself, made my body weak.

But there was more to the cheer squad than anyone had ever let on, a dark secret that remained within the confines of those school walls. The girls called it “initiation”.

Initiation…

It was game day—the first game of the year, against an out-of-town team. After cheer practice, there was still an hour before the big game. And the other girls were all looking at me with devilish smirks on their faces. “Ready for initiation, Kyla?” one girl asked me. The way they were all looking at me, I was starting to think I wasn’t ready. And I wasn’t—and neither were my initiators.

The girls escorted me to the girls’ change room, blindfolded me, tied my hands behind my back, and then said, “Good luck!” and then they were gone. I was just supposed to wait, alone, probably for some dumb prank to give me a scare or something along those lines.

After about ten minutes of total silence, save for the humming of the school’s clunky heating system, the door opened and a pattering of heavy footsteps entered the change room. At first I thought it was the girls, but then I realized the footsteps were too heavy, too blunt to be women. It was a group of men, speechless, engulfing the room. There must have been close to a dozen of them. I heard a deep snicker and then I knew for sure it was men. My heart sank into my gut. They all stopped and the silence once again enveloped the room.

“Kyla Douglas, are your ready for your initiation?” someone asked, doing their best judge-imitation. A wave of snickering encircled me. They were all around me.

My heart burned in my gut. This was bad. I’d heard of these initiations before—on the news. Where a team of men gets together and gang-bangs a girl. That couldn’t possibly be what was going to happen, right? Those stories were just isolated incidents—there was no way that could really happen to me… Right?

It couldn’t. If they tried, they would find out my secret, see my cock. Then what would they do? Tell the whole school? Or worse, beat me to death in that change room? The testosterone was so strong in that room, you could practically smell it—a dark, pungent smell. The smell of dread and impending doom. How badly did I want to be a cheerleader? Not this badly. Not badly enough to risk death.

Or maybe I was wrong—maybe the initiation would be harmless and I was just psyching myself out.

“Kyla?” the man asked.

I couldn’t chicken out now, I needed to follow through with it. For once in my life, I was popular. I fit in. “Okay,” I said. I swear, I could feel them smirking, their dark eyes checking out my body. What was going to happen next?

One of the men stepped up behind me and his hands found my sides. He held me firmly, but gently, moving his hands up my torso, his fingertips teasing the sides of my breasts as he neared my armpits. His hands were huge—definitely one of the football players. I could only assume the men hovering around me were all football players. I felt one of the men step forward, in front of me. I could smell his musk mere inches from my face. I jumped when his fingers carefully slipped under my chin and tilted my head up.

He kissed me. His warm lips pressed up against mine and I froze, became rigid, petrified. I felt another pair of hands come upon me, and then another, and then I lost count, my whole body covered in strong hands. One of them grabbed my tits (or maybe it was two, one tit each, how was I to know?) and squeezed tightly. My breasts were still tender, and the squeeze hurt somewhat, but for whatever reason, I allowed it. I allowed everything. I didn’t say no to anything, at any point. I was too frozen, the lump in my throat too great to conquer. It was just a matter of time before they found it, the cock between my soft thighs. One of the men was close, his fingers inching further and further up my skirt, stopping just millimetres before the tip of my penis. The heat of their bodies was incredible. Their enclosing was suffocating.

One of the men pulled my shirt off of my body. I felt it land near the floor. My bra came off next. God, I should have stopped them, I shouldn’t have let that bra fall from my tits, exposing my nipples. One of the men sunk down and his lips sucked on my nipple, shooting warm pulses through my body.

I’d never had sex before—not with a woman or a man. And now, here I was, about to be taken by a dozen powerful men in the girls’ locker room. Though it probably wouldn’t go that far. As soon as one of them realized my truth, it was surely all over.

And then one of them did. A hand reached from behind me, pulled up my skirt, and then gently landed on the bulge of my cock. He rubbed gently for a moment before realizing something was off, that he wasn’t rubbing a pussy, but instead a growing, hardening cock. “What the fuck?” he said, and then his hand was gone. A few more hands flew off of me. Some stayed on. “What? What’s wrong?” the man sucking my nipples asked.

There was a silence and then all hands were off of me. “Is that—is that a dick?” one of them said.

I should have ran. Hell, I should have never let it get as far as it did in the first place. But once again, I was frozen, in complete shock, like a mouse that had been picked up by an owl—I’d accepted my fate. There was no sense in running or fighting back. I was about to be dead, like it or not. Worst of all, I’d only lived for a few weeks. I felt as though I’d just started my life, the day I walked through those doors as a woman, the day the secretary changed my name from Kyle to Kyla.

“She’s a dude?” one of the football players said. “Holy shit, she’s a dude!”

I could feel them step away as if I was a contagious cancer. They’d never seen anything like me. To be fair, I’d never seen anything like me either. I didn’t know any transgender people, other than myself. Sure, I’d heard about them in the news and whatnot, but before me, it was a myth.

“What should we do with him?” There was a silence as they considered the possibilities. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. Once again, I was a freak, a weirdo. I would never fit in again. I was given a glimpse of the good life and then it was taken away from me in a single moment of stupidity. Why did I let them touch me, explore my body? What did I think was going to happen? Why didn’t I put an end to it?

One of the men stepped towards me and then he smacked me, the back of his hand against my cheek. It hurt like hell. I tried to reach up to grab my face, forgetting my hands were tied together behind my back. “I say we beat the shit out of her,” he said.

My heart was racing now. I almost wished they would just kill me, put me out of my misery. I couldn’t bare to return to school after word got out that I’d gone a whole month pretending to be a woman.

“I mean, you’ve got to admit, he’s pretty hot for a girl,” one man said.

“Jesus—are you being serious?”

“What? Look at him. Look at those tits. You can’t tell me you wouldn’t want to fuck those tits.”

“You gay or something?” The men continued back and forth. They started to take sides, divided into two. It was a welcomed distraction from me.

“If you think she’s so hot, why don’t you suck her dick,” one of them said with a laugh, and then there was a silence.

I expected backlash, but instead, it was just silent. Then, I felt his fingers, carefully pulling my panties down. I heard his knees hit the ground. Was he actually going to do it? Was I about to get my dick sucked by one of the football players. I felt the cool air tingle my cock and I knew I was exposed. All I could see was the black backing of the blindfold.

Then, I felt the warm, wet embrace of his mouth, his soft lips pressing around my girth. I felt myself sink deep into his mouth and the tip of his tongue glisten down the length of my member. He was sucking my dick. My God, a football player was on his knees, sucking my dick. I felt a tingle run up my spine. My cock began to throb and grow in his mouth. He seemed to like it. He sucked harder, getting his hand in on the action, stroking my length with long strides.

The silence in the room was worrisome. I had no idea where anyone was, what they were doing or about to do. The hands of one of the men landed on my shoulders and brought me down to my back on that cool bench. The sucking didn’t stop—and it felt incredible. Then I felt a bare, muscular ass press against my chest. “You going to fuck her tits?” one of the men asked.

He didn’t answer but he didn’t need to. I felt a long, warm erection slap down against the centre of my chest and then he squeezed my tits together, sandwiching his manhood. Holding my breasts tightly together, he stated to thrust. It was a strange feeling, unlike any I’d ever had before. There was nothing biological there that would create any sort of pleasure, yet somehow, jolts of euphoria seemed to pulse through my body with each of his thrusts, whenever he squeezed my breasts tighter. I tried to shimmy my arms free, but they were still tied together.