We Should Dress Up As Cheerleaders

I wanted to experiment writing in second person POV, inspired by someone from Reddit. This is the result. Originally written in Spanish, translated on the go, by someone who learned English playing videogames. I hope you can enjoy reading it, as much as I enjoyed writing it. All characters are over 18 years old.

"Has it arrived yet, buddy?"

Noa, your best friend, blurts out the moment he crosses the threshold of your house. His Chilean accent intensifies when he gets excited, which always brings a smile to your face.

"A while ago, I was waiting for you to open the package," you reply as you head to your room.

"I hope they're as good as the website said, they weren't cheap," he says, taking off his jacket and dropping it on your bed.

Noa has been your best friend since forever, because your mothers are best friends too. And it's a great friendship; you have the same tastes in almost everything: music, video games, literature, sports, football team, and a long etcetera. You even look a bit alike, more like cousins than brothers.

"Come on, open it already!" Noa urges, but you continue carefully cutting the tape on the package containing your Halloween costumes.

Or rather, for the most important party of the year, which will be at the house of Helena Piñero, the most popular girl in the last year. Everyone will be there, and anyone who doesn't show up clearly has no social life.

Noa meticulously checks the quality of the costumes, feeling the fabric, examining the seams, holding the garments up to the light, and finally, he approves them with a huge smile.

"So, we're still going with the plan, right?" you ask nervously, raising an eyebrow, with one of the cheerleader costumes in your hands.

"We're still going with the plan," your friend confirms decisively. "Tomorrow is going to be a great day, buddy."

The plan. You say you don't remember how came up the idea; by the time you realized it, you were already searching for cheerleader costumes online. From your perspective, genetics hasn't been kind to Noa and you, because you've both just turned eighteen, and you've barely reached 1.60 meters (5'3") in height. Noa is a full centimeter shorter. Neither of you looks like final-year students, with one foot in college, which you actually are. Having soft features and long hair doesn't help either. All of this has made you the target of many jokes from your classmates; it's not bad enough to call it bullying, but it's certainly not pleasant.

And that brings us to Helena Piñero's Halloween party. In early October, Helena, the most preppy girl in high school, with a family loaded with cash and who lives in a mansion in the upper part of town, organized a costume party at her house, taking advantage of her parents going away for a romantic weekend in the snow, or something like that, and the news spread like wildfire across your high school. Attendance became almost mandatory. You actually remember playing video games when the lightbulb went off: dress up as something very feminine, so others would see that the jokes don't bother you, and they'd stop making them. Adolescent logic is infallible; the plan has to work.

"Let's meet tomorrow at ten, so we'll have time to get everything ready," you consult the schedule with Noa.

The party doesn't start until ten at night, but you like to be thorough, and this needs to be done right, even if it takes all day.

"Ten here. Don't forget to watch the tutorials I sent you," your friend confirms, fist-bumping as a farewell. "See you tomorrow, buddy."

You slump into your desk chair, looking at the cheerleader uniforms on your bed, and thinking about Noa. You're a little worried; although they mostly make fun of both of you, the jokes actually started with him. They always pick on Noa, saying outrageous things, like he likes to cross-dress and suck dick. You've always defended him, of course, and that's why you ended up included in the jokes. It makes you so angry, because Noa never gives importance to the insults; he just offers a shy smile and looks down, his face flushed, but you know that deep down, it affects him much more than he lets on. In his own way, he tries his best to keep you from worrying; you know that some afternoons he's stayed late at the gym after class, probably to confront your classmates. That's why, when Noa jokingly suggested the costumes, you supported him. Noa is a friend worth going through hell for.

You gather the uniforms to clear the bed, but you pause for a while, holding one of the short miniskirts in your hands. The truth is, the idea of dressing up as a cheerleader doesn't seem bad to you; it has a certain spicy mischief to it, making you think it's a lot like the plot of those erotic stories you love to secretly read online; you know the ones. You go to bed, trying not to think about it, with little success, and you can't fall asleep until well into late at night. You feel the same nerves a child has before going to summer camp. You finally fall asleep and dream of naked girls dancing and laughing among pink clouds and rainbows. You sleep wonderfully.

* * *

At ten o'clock sharp, the doorbell rings. Noa is punctual as a clock, and when you open the door, there he stands, with his usual bright smile.

"Good morning, buddy," he exclaims joyfully, entering and heading towards the kitchen. "I had trouble sleeping last night, like it was the day before summer camp. You too?"

Noa moves around your house as if it were his own, and vice versa. Your friendship goes back so far that no one in your families pays it any mind, although sometimes the way Noa throws his coat over your sofa, as if it were his own, just like he's done now, brings a smile to your face.

"Did you buy the makeup, pal?" your best friend asks while you pour two glasses of orange juice.

"Yeah, it's in that bag," you point towards the counter, and you sit down opposite to Noa, opening a package of María cookies.

"I bought the same brands my sister uses; I have no idea."

"I read some tips online and bought these razors," Noa says, placing hair removal products on the table, along with a package of razors, the ones from that TV commercial, the one with the catchy song and girls dancing on the beach.

"I brought this too."

Your friend pulls a bottle of rum out of his backpack. It's the entry ticket to any teenage party, although you and Noa prefer beer; you barely have any tolerance for alcohol.

You read the labels on the different products, and after breakfast, you head to the shower. You've undressed together too many times to feel embarrassed, and anyone would be surprised by the normalcy with which you act, chatting and joking like good friends.

It's the first time you've shaved your legs and armpits, but Noa found some YouTube tutorials, and with patience, you achieve perfect results. You're surprised by the softness of your own skin; it's a very pleasant and refreshing sensation.

"Hey, should we also shave... you know, down there?" Noa asks, lowering his voice, as if you were doing something taboo.

"Well..." you hadn't thought about it, but now you're curious to see if it's true that it looks bigger that way. "We could try it, see what happens, right? Since we're at it..."

Your heart beats fast as you carefully slide the razor over your parts, wanting to avoid thinking that it's something very erotic, because you're more worried about the razor than anything else. Once the job is done, you marvel again at this new sensation, but when you look at your reflection in the mirror, completely hairless, the first word that crosses your mind is feminine. Noa distracts you with some playful teasing, and you dismiss the thought without giving it importance.

Once in your room, showered and in clean underwear, you face the costumes. A top and a pleated miniskirt, blue and white, with "Cheer!" on the chest; white thigh-high socks; a pair of gold pom-poms, and to top it off, white sneakers with pink accents and laces. They are authentic cheerleader uniforms made of spandex and cotton, not simple cheap Amazon costumes. You put it on slowly, almost ceremoniously, as a feeling of doing something perverted makes butterflies flutter in your stomach. You discover that you're starting to enjoy this, and the idea of seeing the final result excites you.

You look at yourselves in the full-length mirror in your sister's room, and you're gobsmacked to see that Noa looks perfect. You both look a lot alike, except Noa has tanned skin, chocolate-colored, short, dark, curly, and shiny hair, and clear, lively brown eyes. In contrast, you are pale as chalk, and your straight blonde hair falls messily over your shoulders. The only thing you like is the sea-green color of your eyes, over your freckled cheeks. You inherited both, the freckles and the vibrant green color of your pupils from your mother.

"You look perfect, buddy," Noa exclaims, grabbing you by the waist so both your reflection fits in the mirror.

"Me? No way!" you say, pointing at the mirror.

The truth is, you felt those butterflies again when Noa grabbed you.

"Look at you, you're... you're gorgeous!"

"Okay, okay," your friend laughs. "Let's say we're... let's say we look hot!"

You laugh as Noa bumps you with his hip, and you give him a friendly punch on the shoulder. He retaliates by poking you in the kidneys, and as you try to pull away, laughing hysterically, he lunges at you, hugs you, and drags you back in front of the mirror.

"Come on, say it!" he urges, looking at your reflection, his hand on your waist.

"Say what?"

"That we look hot!"

"Okay, okay," you reply, laughing.

You face the mirror, and Noa's reflection returns his charming smile. You swallow as you look at the complete outfit, because now, you see two cheerleaders.

"We look hot."

Noa jumps with satisfaction and comments on how hungry he is as he leaves your sister's room. You'd swear your voices have gotten a little higher...

* * *

When you get to the kitchen, you realize you're both starving. Your parents are also spending the weekend away, but you're not as interesting or as popular as Helena Piñero, so only you and Noa are enjoying your house. You prepare a quick meal of instant ramen, some sandwiches, and at least half a kilo of oranges.

Noa jokes, speaking in the feminine and using a girl's voice the whole time, and you end up playing along. Then you get the idea to turn on a music channel and dance, imitating the singers on screen. You're both having a great time. During one of the dances, you decide to show off how flexible you are by kicking your leg in the air and jumping. When he sees you, Noa lets out a cry of surprise and runs to your room. You follow him, laughing, not knowing what he's come up with.

"I knew it would be a problem, and that's why I came prepared," Noa throws you a package of white fabric wrapped in plastic. "Cheerleaders in male underwear? Lame!"

You turn the package over, looking for the label, and let out a sigh of surprise as you read it.

"Panties! No, white thongs!" you exclaim, watching your best friend puff out his chest. "You're a genius, Noa."

You tear open the package and each grab a thong. Noa puts his on while you enjoy the feel of the fabric; it's nothing like your rough male underwear. The sensation of putting on the intimate feminine garment goes beyond what you felt with the uniform, and you get an erection. You try to hide it, but Noa puts his hands under your skirt.

"Look, buddy, they have a pocket to hide your balls," he says without any shame, readjusting your parts inside the thong. Noa has never done anything like this, and you flinch, but he gives you a reassuring smile.

"It's normal, friend, it's okay."

You mumble something like an apology, but Noa doesn't pay it any mind and shows you how it looks his new underwear. He was right; his jewels are completely hidden. You wonder if he's also as aroused as you are, but he excitedly drags you back in front of the TV and pokes you to dance again. You lose track of that thought, dancing and laughing with your best friend.

* * *

Noa is an artist; he's always been very good at drawing, painting, and things like that. And you, thanks to your older sister, have mastered one of those rare skills everyone has: hairdressing. For yourself, you choose something simple: a basic fringe and a couple of blonde pigtails. For Noa, a side-parted hairstyle secured with bobby pins.

Just before you start, a lightbulb goes off, and you raid your sister's room in search of her old hair accessories. You return triumphantly with your loot: bobby pins with red hearts and shiny pink hair ties. Noa applauds your ingenuity, and you puff out your chest with pride. It's not the same as the thongs, but it will be a nice touch.

Without a doubt, this is the most complicated part of the costume. Even with internet tutorials, it takes you a couple of hours to achieve a good result, but in the end, when you look at yourselves in the mirror with the complete costume, you're speechless. Almost no one would be able to tell you aren't real girls.

"Oh, my God, I can't believe it," you exclaim, looking at your red, seductive lips. "It's impossible that we did this so well."

"Why don't we put it to the test?" Noa suggests with a mischievous smile.

"How?"

"Smile!" your friend pulls out his phone to take a selfie.

You resist, but Noa gets the better of you, and you end up smiling and making the peace sign with both hands. Without a second thought, Noa goes on Reddit to upload the photos, and you get nervous.

"They're going to recognize us!" you cry, tugging at your friend's arm.

"No way! Look: 'Two friends with new costumes, do we look pretty, Reddit?'" And, post.

Noa presses the button with a smile and puts his phone in his pocket.

"Now we wait a while. You know what would be cool? Learning a cheerleader dance."

You let yourself be swept away by Noa's energy. The truth is, you haven't seen him enjoy himself so much in a long time, and you want the best for him, so you quickly find cheerleader videos and learn to jump and shake the pom-poms. You worry about Noa, but you're having as much fun as he is.

It's been a couple of hours since nightfall when you sit in front of your computer and open Reddit. You're left with your mouth open wide when you see over a thousand upvotes and a hundred comments. Your heart races again as you read them.

"See?" Noa affirms with a hint of smugness. "Everyone thinks we're pretty. Say it again."

You're lost. There's a comment that says very sexual things about you; it's been downvoted to oblivion, but it's turned you on, and you didn't expect it. Noa elbows you in the kidneys and brings you back to reality.

"What? Yes, we look hot."

Noa returns one of his radiant smiles, and the makeup and hairstyle make him shine brighter than ever.

You think you're going to die. It can't be good for your heart to have been beating so fast all day, and you feel like the butterflies in your stomach are going to lift you off the ground. You take Noa to the kitchen, with the excuse of eating something before the party, but in reality, you're trying to calm down a bit. You know your friend has noticed something is wrong. He starts preparing a salad next to you while you cook pre-cooked three delights rice, talking about your usual things. You can tell he's making a big effort not to speak with the speed of his Chilean accent, trying to sound more melodious to soften the atmosphere, to make you comfortable. You're best friends; you're there for him, and he's there for you.

"Hey, we don't have to go," he says almost in a whisper as you finish dinner. "Or we can take off the costumes before going."

"If we don't go, it'll be like we don't exist. Our social death in high school," you reassure him.

You've had time to get used to the idea that you look better as a girl than you ever will as a boy. And you don't think it's bad; you know Noa feels the same way.

"Besides, these costumes turned out perfectly, Noa. We're going to kill it."

Your friend observes you for a very long second. If you were lying, he would know; he knows you that well. He smiles, relieved, and to your surprise, he hugs you. It's not unusual, but he saves it for big occasions.

"It's going to be a great party, you'll see, partner," his melodious voice draws you in with its sibilance. Tonight, Noa is your best girlfriend.

* * *

"Did you see? They turned to look at us..." Noa whispers as you pass a couple of guys from school.

There are quite a few people celebrating Halloween tonight in the streets, and even more on Helena Piñero's street. You were nervous at first, but everyone who has passed you has acted normally; you're just two girls dressed as sexy cheerleaders. Nothing wrong. Just now, you heard the group of guys you passed making comments about how hot you look. That gives you butterflies in your stomach; you're not going to deny it anymore.

You ring the doorbell at Helena's house, and the hostess herself, dressed as a witch with a very short miniskirt and a generous cleavage, opens the door. She frowns when she sees you and stares at you for a very long minute, trying to place you. Finally, the lightbulb goes off, and she lets out a huge sigh of surprise, her mouth open and her eyes wide.

"You're Noa, and..." she points at you, jumping between Noa and you, and your friend enthusiastically shakes his pom-poms. "Oh my God! Monica, Monica, look!"

She calls a girl inside, and a sexy nurse approaches the door. The same examination, the lightbulb moment, and the huge surprise are repeated.

"Oh. My. God! No way!" she exclaims, hand over her mouth. "But how...? They're literally the best costumes in the world."

The surprise and compliments don't end at the door; everyone loves your costumes, and soon Noa's enthusiasm is catching. You dance, more than once, in front of your classmates and fully embrace the role of energetic and positive cheerleaders.

No one picks on you, no one mocks you, no one insults you, or points and laughs; everyone chats, plays, and laughs with you. It's not that you were marginalized before, it's just that, sometimes, you felt the jokes went too far. You wonder, a couple of times, if the plan was really necessary, but the attention from your friends and classmates, and the party around you makes you dismiss the thought.

The night has progressed; you've danced, laughed, and played with everyone, and you've had three and a half beers. You had to abandon that last glass, or it would be too much alcohol. You've lost Noa. A while ago, he went to talk to someone on the stairs while you were playing darts in the dining room, and he hasn't come back. You can't find him, so you go up to the second floor to look, but a couple of guys from another class form a sort of barrier in front of the bedrooms, and they demand to know what you're looking for.

"I'm looking for Noa," the alcohol, and the habit of having been acting all night, forces you to adopt a pose, hands on your hips and head tilted. "You know, a cheerleader, just like me."

"Oh, the cheerleader," they both laugh. It gives you a bad feeling. "Yeah, the cheerleader is in... ah yes, Helena's room."

They let you pass, and burst into laughter. Your heart skips a beat. Are they doing something to Noa? You rush into the bedroom and freeze at the door when you see the scene: Noa is on his knees on the floor, and a guy from your class has his dick in your best friend's mouth.

* * *

"Noa!" you exclaim, with a mixture of fear and confusion. Your friend doesn't seem to be suffering.