Twinsies: Going Cheerleading
Date Published: February 2, 2015, 11:49am
Written By: Whetoric
Author Notes:
What the hell? Another one? Well - before you get too annoyed, this one is only a four-parter, and each part is rather short. It was intended as a short story, and it still is, but it just grew slightly longer than expected. It’s the same series as this story:Going Twinsiesbut I wouldn’t quick call it a sequel. They’re more like a series of vignettes.
Hope you enjoy it. I’m posting part 1 and part 2 now; I plan to post part 3 and 4 at the same time, once I’m finished going over them.
PART 1 & 2: POSTED 02.02.15
Twinsies: Going Cheerleading - Part 1- The Trip
Last time I told you guys about when I met my first crush, Kirsten, and how that ended up. Well, for fourth graders, our relationship went pretty well. When summer started, four months later, we were still a couple, even if all that meant was that I got to hold her hand sometimes and I bought her a small box of chocolates for Valentine’s Day (she gave me a kiss on the cheek for that, I was so happy I was almost in tears).
After not getting to see her at school for two weeks because of summer vacation, I was incredibly excited by the time it came to go on a trip with Kirsten; that excitement was probably why I had been in and out of the bathroom all morning. Mom even made a point of teasing me, noting, playfully, how much Kirsten’s mom would be pissed if I asked her to stop the car every time I had to go. I nodded, in agreement, deciding I would practice holding it for at least a little. It still felt like I always had to go and the practice didn’t do much except stress me out more.
Kirsten was in cheerleading and they had some big cheerleading thing going on in Las Vegas. Kirsten had begged her mom to let me come for days and, finally, Ms. Weaver agreed because I always behaved at her house. My mom was happy to have the house just for her and dad for a weekend so she readily agreed to let me go.
When Ms. Weaver’s white SUV parked in front of the house, I was already halfway down the front walk, suitcase in hand, waving a Kirsten from her seat in the car. She swung the door open, I swung the suitcase in.
“Hi!” I said, smiling broadly. Kirsten smiled back.
“Well hello, Stephen,” Ms. Weaver said from the driver’s seat.
“Hi Ms. Weaver.” I turned to the back of the car where Kirsten’s little sister was strapped in, “hi Megan!”
“Hi Stephen!” Kirsten’s little sister shouted from the back row of chairs.
By now my mom had already caught up to me and was handing Kirsten’s mom a list and talking to her about a few last things. Kirsten looked impatiently at our parents talking as she fidgeting in her chair. I put my suitcase in the back, next to Megan, and then got myself situated next to Kirsten in the second row.
Soon enough, we were off, the rumbling of the car instantly making me feel pressure on my bladder again. Great. We were ten yards down the road and, already, I wanted to ask for a restroom.
“Hey,” Kirsten said happily, as soon as we were away from my house. “Look what I brought!”
She pulled out a blue skirt of a t-shirt type material and a white shirt with ruffled shoulders with a blue butterfly on the front that matched the color of the skirt from her backpack. She grinned at me. They were a perfect match with her pink skirt and white shirt with a pink butterfly. She even pulled on her shirt to accentuate how they matched.
I knew what they were for. Before I addressed that though, I had to apologize to Ms. Weaver.
“Ms. Weaver, I’ve had to pee all morning. I’m sorry if you have to stop the car a bunch.” I apologized, embarrassed, touching my crotch briefly to ease the need. It wasn’t like the Weaver family didn’t have some knowledge of my poor bladder control but it was embarrassing nonetheless.
“Megan!” Ms. Weaver called to her youngest, “toss that package up to Kirsten!”
Megan grunted as she reached from her booster seat until she managed to grasp something and handed it overhead to Kirsten. Kirsten turned, and offered me a disposable diaper from an almost full pack of Pampers Cruisers.
“I have the girls wear them for long trips,” Ms. Weaver explained. “You don’t have to use them but I find it kills the nervousness of needing a bathroom every five minutes.”
I nodded, pulling one out of the package, and undoing the button on my khaki shorts. Kirsten looked down at me wide-eyed. I stopped unzipping my fly.
“I don’t think I can change here, Ms. Weaver,” I said, blushing a little.
“Kirsten!” Ms. Weaver chided, looking in the rearview mirror. "Give the boy his privacy, you don’t need to be seeing that anyway. A little sigh escaped Kirsten’s mouth as she turned, peered out the window at nothing, and granted me the temporary privacy I needed. You might think I’d be flattered by her interest but, at nine years old, I wanted my privacy too much to consider anything else when it came to being naked.
I slipped my shorts and undies off onto the floor, positioned the Pamper under me, brought up the front, and started trying to work the tapes. The diaper was covering me but this last part was actually pretty hard because I couldn’t move freely with the seat belt on.
“Kirsten,” I started, “can you help. It’s on, I just can’t get the tapes.”
Gleeful at being included again, and held the side of the Pamper for me while I worked the tape on the other side. Soon I was properly diapered, sitting in the back of the SUV with Kirsten. Again, she offered me the skirt and matching shirt.
“Kirsten got me to buy that one especially for you.” Ms. Weaver said, chuckling. “Of course, she didn’t tell me that at the time, she’s been talking about how cute you’d look in it since yesterday.”
Ever since our first “date,” play-date really, Kirsten had decided I was both her boyfriend and her dress-up doll. She adored putting me in her clothes; I liked seeing her happy. On the other hand, I was proud to be a boy. That’s why, after a session in a pink tutu, I had finally drawn the line – much to her dismay. I was a boy; the boy’s color is blue. If I had to wear girl stuff, it had to be blue.
She had been disappointed but accepted that I had some standards. So, I guess, she had found the most girly thing she could that fell within my accepted limits. As much as I hated to admit it, I did like playing dress-up a little too. I took the skirt, smiling at her as I pulled it up my legs, and then I changed out my Batman t-shirt for the white, ruffled shirt with a butterfly on the front.
The drive itself was a long one, even though we lived in the high desert, it took three hours to drive from California to Nevada. We sang songs for awhile and then Megan fell asleep. Then, looking for a new activity, Kirsten decided that make-up would be fun and started to put some on me.
“She’s just excited because I only let her play with makeup during cheerleading.” Ms. Weaver said as Kirsten applied sparkly lip gloss to my lips. She giggled with delight as she surveyed her handiwork and turned to what I now know is a mascara applicator. Once she had finished my makeup she moved onto accessories. She place a bracelet on one arm, a butterfly clip in my short, light blonde hair and she even had little butterfly clip-on studs that she attached to my earlobes once she was finished. Finished, she insisted her mom look at me in the mirror.
“Yes, he’s very cute dear,” Her mom replied. I could tell she was trying not to laugh, it was a little embarrassing.
As for my bladder, I ended up peeing the Pamper pretty quickly. Really, I peed it about five times total from my door to when we stopped briefly in Baker. Just being able to let go without worrying about an accident made me feel ten times better. Not to mention, the warm feeling of just going was pretty nice; I’d gotten used to it since Kirsten liked to play with diapers when we could get away with it. Of course, on this trip, my wettings were really small and out of nervousness so I wasn’t leaking. Cumulatively, though, they had added up to making the Pamper pretty squishy.
By the time the SUV stopped and we got out to stretch our legs, I had been transformed from wearing khaki shorts and a Batman t-shirt to wearing a white, stretchy top with short sleeves that were ruffled with a blue butterfly on the front and a soft, t-shirt material like powder blue skirt. Underneath, of course, was my wet Pamper.
Although probably would’ve made me look like a girl, Kirsten had gone all-out and used her cheerleader makeup on my, with sparkly lip gloss, blush, and mascara to boot. I felt oddly pretty. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be pretty, but I knew Kirsten wanted me to be pretty and I kinda liked it. It felt like I was wearing a secret disguise. Plus, I never wore accessories so the bracelet and hair clip, when they moved, kept reminding me I was dressed up plus the ever present, not unpleasant tiny sting of the clip-on earrings.
“Who needs a change,” Ms. Weaver asked as we stretched our legs. All of us admitted that we did. Ms Weaver took each of us, in turn, into the car and changed us on the middle seat. It wasn’t so weird having Ms. Weaver change my diaper anymore. She had helped me the first time I had played with Kirsten because I pooped a little, and a second time when my diaper had leaked, and after the third time it just became custom and I appreciated that she didn’t mind changing me along with her daughters.
After Ms. Weaver had made a pit stop of her own at a gas station restroom we were back on the road and didn’t stop again until we reached Las Vegas.
Twinsies: Going Cheerleading - Part 2 - The Stand In
It was almost noon by the time we arrived at the gym that her cheerleading group had rented to practice in for the two days until competition. Before we got out of the car, Ms. Weaver changed us again, helping Megan into a pull-up, and Kirsten into a pair of pink panties which matched her outfit.
The only reason I discovered the color of her panties was because of the events of my own changing. Ms. Weaver laid me down, undid my diaper, cleaned me off, and then handed me my underwear. That was all pretty much normal; Kirsten, however, had other plans.
“No mom!” Kirsten called from behind her, “He’s gotta wear these.”
Kirsten handed her mother something and, a moment later, I was offered a choice between powder-blue panties with a tiny butterfly on the front, or my standard tighty-whities.
“It’s girl’s underwear though.” I whined at my girlfriend.
“You gotta match!” Kirsten called back from outside the car. I relented and, reluctantly, accepted the powder blue panties, pulling them up my legs. Outside the car, while Ms. Weaver attended to changing Megan, Kirsten looked at me triumphantly.
“See, now we’re still twinsies!” She said, raising her skirt to show an identical pair of panties, except for the fact that her’s were pink. I smiled at her and at getting to see her panties. She looked towards her mom the whole, brief, two or three seconds that she had her skirt up. She would’ve definitely got in trouble if her mom caught her showing me. Everyone cleaned up, we headed into the gym on the outskirts of Las Vegas. There were already a number of cars parked and I got the impression we were one of the last groups to arrive.
The competition was on Sunday but, because it was summer, the group was meeting on Friday and Saturday for rehearsals. I didn’t want to get in the way of Kirsten’s cheerleading stuff. I knew I was here to play with her in the mornings and evenings only. Noon until 3PM was cheerleading time, Ms. Weaver had explained. So Megan and I sat, amusing ourselves with a deck of cards, though I kept track of whether Kirsten was performing. She’d ask me to watch her, and I was going to make sure to do so. I also thought I could be helpful by keeping Megan occupied.
As the practice was about to begin, however, I sensed a certain amount of discord. The adults all looked concerned as they talked nearby and soon the girls were gathering around them too. I caught the conversation because Megan and my impromptu card game happened pretty close to where they were talking.
“Veronica broke her arm; her mom tells me she’s had it put in a cast and she’ll be okay.” the coach explained sadly to Ms. Weaver and the other moms. “It won’t look right missing a girl, but we can still perform.”
“But,” one of the girls said, realizing what had happened, almost in tears, “then we can’t do the second pyramid. Stacie and me can’t lift up Kirsten on our own…”
The girls looked sad as the stood around. I knew Kirsten had been practicing for this for a long time. What a bummer to have one kid in a small cheerleading group break their arm right before the big competition.
“We’ll have to change the whole routine,” The coach said.
“That’ll…but they only practiced these ones.” A parent said angrily.
“If only we had a stand-in.” The coach said. “But you all said every child should get to be in the competition, so I didn’t prep one. I like the idea behind putting in every kid, but then this happens sometimes…”
“There’s no one that could stand in?” Another parent lamented.
Suddenly, the girls eyes all turned and focused on me. I gulped. For the first moment, I wondered how they could possibly be looking at me. A boy couldn’t be a cheerleader, right? But, of course, I was wearing makeup and studs, and sitting in a powder-blue skirt. They thought I was a girl; I certainly hadn’t given any other indication. The fact that I had actually fooled them all thrilled me but I was also super scared now that I was actually noticed.
“She could do it, right?” One girl said, asking Kirsten. “She’s your friend, right; she’s our age?”
“But…” Kirsten replied, as shocked as I was that her dressing me up really worked. “She’s never done cheering before…”
“Yeah,” another cheerleader added, “but, even if she sucks, it’s better than only one pyramid. Plus, we’ve got two days to practice and you could show her other stuff afterwards…”
I felt the weight of fifteen eyes on me as I looked desperately towards Kirsten. No help was forthcoming there. I looked up at Ms. Weaver, she was flashing me an apologetic smile.
“I could… try?” I said, my voice creaking with worry.
“Do we have a uniform for her?” The couch asked worriedly.
“I brought a spare! We can try it!” A girl said, running for her bag. A few moments later I was pushed into the changing room with Kirsten and a cheering uniform in my hand.
Kirsten helped me strip off the skirt and t-shirt, down to pastel blue panties Kirsten had insisted on. I blushed at being in a room in only girl’s panties, but Kirsten was all business at this point. The cheer uniform was a mostly black piece, with silver glitter all over it and blue lettering on the front. The skirt flared out tightly, basically leaving panties on display whenever anyone moved too much.
For better or for worse, the uniform fit me like a glove. I moved in front of the changing room mirror, worriedly, briefly that I would be exposed. However, even with my panties on display, it wasn’t obvious I was a boy. After all, while I may be decently hung now, such was not the case for nine-year-old me. Add to that the fact that I was a late bloomer when I finally hit puberty in high school and it made sense that no one noticed.
As I took one last glance in the mirror, it struck me again how cool it was that I could look so completely different with so little effort. I was much more interested in the secret, subterfuge aspect than I was about the fact that it took the form of me looking like a girl. Kirsten and I reveled in the fact that the adults couldn’t even tell.
The skirt and the top on, Kirsten checked me over once more, then pushed me back out in the room. The girls gave a happy cheer as they saw the fit and, immediately, the coach called us all into order.
“Okay girls, you’re going to have to help out…” The coach started, pausing as she realized she didn’t know my name.
“Stephanie!” Ms. Weaver, gratefully, called out from the sidelines. I suddenly realized how bad this could have gone had she not saved me there. I looked over at Kirsten, her eyes were wide and I knew, from that expression, she’d been about to say my real name.
“Stephanie, right.” The coach added. “She had no idea what to do. I want to show her the routine twice, Kirsten, can you do Veronica’s bit?”
Kirsten nodded.
“Okay then. Stephanie, watch Kirsten, do the best you can and try to memorize exactly what she does.”
Two grueling hours later, my legs were already a little wobbly. While the other girls had took a break, the coach spent some extra time working with me. I could lift Kirsten up into her pyramid now, and the coach said that was the most important part, but I had to admit I ended up in the wrong spot a number of times.
I started feeling really nervous. I was worried I was going to ruin the competition for them. Even when I got the placement right, I could tell I didn’t have the poise of the other girls, the way they strutted around between moves. Their crisp arm and leg movements made it look like I was just flailing around in comparison. I kept trying to copy it but I felt like I was bringing their whole group down.
I felt really anxious as the girls returned from break. We all got in line again. I tried to remember the coaches instructions. I didn’t bump into anyone for the first routine but that barely kept my anxiety in check. We got Kirsten and the other girl up in their pyramids and safely down. As the second routine started, which I hadn’t learned as well yet, I immediately stepped off in the wrong direction and bumped full on into another cheerleader, turning left when I should have turned right. She fell on her butt, I felt my bladder release in surprise.
Oh god, my bladder. I hadn’t used the restroom since we’d gotten here. I’d gotten so nervous I hadn’t even thought about it. Suddenly, there was a heavy pattering on the floor, and I looked down to see a puddle forming beneath me. I felt the hot pee rushing into my panties, and down my thighs into my socks and the floor below. I immediately cried out, in anguish, and ran for the bathroom door, running inside and locking in behind me. My legs felt like lead, not wanting to move while I was still peeing, but I forced them too. Luckily, it also shut off my bladder.
I heard the murmuring behind me as I slammed the door. I started crying the moment the door shut behind me. I sat on the toilet, releasing the rest of my pee there, angry that I couldn’t have just remembered to use it in the first place. I was such a stupid baby, I thought, as I wiped at my eyes as I finished peeing. I was going to ruin their competition and I’d peed myself in front of everyone. Very quickly, there was a rap on the door.
“Stephen…ie?” Kirsten asked. “Can I come in?”
I got up, opened the door and Kirsten quickly let herself in, closing it behind her.
“You okay?” She asked as tears slipped hotly down my cheeks. I shook my head. “It’s okay. They know it was just an accident.”
She offered me a pull-up, probably from her mom’s bag. I pulled the soaked panties off from under the cheering outfit, tossing them in the sink, and pulled the pull-up on quickly. At least the pee didn’t seem to have gotten on the cheering uniform; I could be grateful for that. My legs still felt gross. Kirsten had gotten a wet towel though, and handed it to me. Gratefully I wiped down my legs, cleaning the pee away.
“I’m going to ruin your competition.” I said, sadly.
“No, no!” Kirsten said emphatically. “It’s way better than being down a person. We know you can’t be as good; we’ve practiced all year.”
I nodded as, gently, Kirsten took my hand and guided me back out to the room. The puddle had already been cleaned up (I later found out by Ms. Weaver), and the girls were all looking at me.
“I’m sorry,” I said ashamed. “I just got real nervous. I don’t want to screw stuff up for you guys.”
“It’s fine. You’re doing us a big favor.” The coach said, honestly. “From now on though, promise me, even if you wet yourself, just keep going like nothing happened. Unless you’re injured, no one ever stops the routine. Can you promise me that?”
I nodded. “I promise,” I said apologetically. “I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t know;” The coach said and shrugged. “But now you do. If you don’t react, probably no one will notice- if you leave the stage, everyone notices.” I nodded again. “You ready to give it another try?”
I sucked in a deep breath, nodded, and we broke into the second routine again. It went a lot better. We kept going through it and, while I was still uncertain at a few points, the coach assured An hour later we were finished, Kirsten and I were exhausted, and we started packing up to head home.
“Hey,” The girl that had offered me her uniform said, walking up next to us.
“Hi,” I said, embarrassed. “Sorry if I got…anything on the uniform…”
“It’s okay; Ms. Weaver said she’d wash it before returning it. I’m sure that was real embarrassing for you.”
I nodded, it certainly had been embarrassing.
“Do you wear pull-ups a lot?” She asked, continuing. Her interest seemed genuine.
My jaw dropped. How did she know? Suddenly, I imagined the scene that must’ve occurred while I was in the restroom. For Kirsten to have gotten to me so fast she must’ve grabbed a pull-up from her mom’s bag and ran across the room without hiding it. Of course they all knew what I was wearing now… I blushed.
“Just…sometimes…” I tried to explain, humiliated.
"Thanks so much for doing this. You’re a life saver."Another girl said from a few feet away. Relief washed over my at the change of subject.
“I’m sorry I suck.” I replied back, sadly.
“Well, you’re not as good as us, but I think you’ll do well enough on Sunday that we might place.” She added, considering. “Besides, Kirsten would’ve been so disappointed if we couldn’t do her pyramid.”
“Not to mention,” The coach added, walking over to us, “if you didn’t join we’d have had to rework the whole routine for seven instead of eight. That means totally different positions. Their movements would look much worse if we had to do that, with only two days to practice it. You’re allowing them to keep the routine they practiced for.”
Those comments made me feel a little better but I still kept going over and over the moves in my mind. I would be good enough to impress Kirsten on Sunday, I swore it. I retrieved Kirsten’s blue panties, which I had soiled, in a plastic baggie and Ms. Weaver took them from me and threw them in a bag. Soon we were all packed up and headed to the hotel.
“Well, that was exciting, huh Stephanie?” Ms. Weaver asked as I got in the car. I blushed.
“His name is Stephen, mom!” Megan corrected, giggling. I was glad she hadn’t said that inside.
“We’re going to call him Stephanie this whole weekend.” Ms. Weaver explained to her youngest. “Or we risk screwing up and embarrassing him if the others find out, okay?”
“Okay,” Megan and Kirsten intoned.
“And, Stephanie, if you’re not okay with this, it’s okay to speak up and I will stop it right away.” Ms. Weaver added to me. “You’re seriously helping Kirsten and the other girls out but it’s not something you have to do. I can always just say you had to go home.”
“It’s okay; I want to do it.” I added, and Kirsten looked at me with Bambi eyes. I could tell she’d be crushed if I tried to back out now. With that settled, we headed back to hotel for our first evening in Vegas.
Re: Twinsies: Going Cheerleading
shygirl93 link=topic=6348.msg62083#msg62083 date=1422985801:
Im loving this story Whetoric When are Chapters 3&4 coming
Soon. Upon glancing at my own posts, I realize I was particularly bad at proofing this. At the same time I post 3&4 I’ll post re-edited parts 1&2. I just enjoyed writing this one so much my instinct to post outweighed my discretion to edit. Apologies, readers. Still, I hope the story is still fun, typos and all, and I’ll release a better edited version when its complete