Cheerleaders! Why didn't you think of that on your own?
Sydney bursts out laughing. "Will! If you could see your face!"
"Why?" You feel yourself blushing.
"You're turning bright red! Do you want to be a cheerleader?" Sydney rocks with laughter.
You choke on your own denial. Because it would be a lie.
You? A cheerleader? A girl with giant tits, firm thighs, tight calves, a trim tummy, lovely hair tumbling about your shoulders, and a wide, blinding smile? A girl with a firm but silky body she can bind inside tight, sleeveless blouses and short skirts and skimpy sandals? A girl that all the guys lust after and pant over, and who can twirl them around her finger like taffy? Why would you want to be that?
Okay, seriously: Why wouldn't you want to be that?
Your face feels like it's going to burn off the front of your skull.
Sydney gradually overcomes her mirth.
"We can do whatever you want, Will," she says, and she cuddles up close to you, so that her scent envelops you. She lightly smooches you on the lips. "We can be whoever you want. I can be a cheerleader. A Westside cheerleader." Smooch. "And you can be a Westside cheerleader, if you want." She smooches you again. "We can be Westside cheerleaders together. Squad mates!" Smooch. "Or I can be a Westside cheerleader and you can be my boyfriend." Smooch.
She cuddles up closer to you, and you feel like you're going to explode.
"You know," she softly breathes in your face. "I could even be five cheerleaders for you. Five different cheerleaders." Smooch. "And each one of them can take turns being with you." Smooch. "Being." Smooch. "Your." Smooch. "Afternoon." Smooch. "Fuck." Smooch. "If that's what you want."
You almost come out of your skin.
* * * * *
You and Sydney talk over the possibilities while holding each other tight, and balancing a cell phone between you as you scroll around online looking for cheerleader selfies.
The number one pick on the cheerleader squad would have to be Chelsea Cooper, the beautiful but imperious squad captain. She is small, firm, buxom, and strong, and she acts like the queen bee who runs the school. She is also dating Gordon Black, the hulking captain of the basketball squad. They are the King and Queen of Westside High. That makes them a natural couple for you to convert.
The only other cheerleader with a boyfriend (that you know of, but then you are not exactly inside the loop on these things) is Cindy Vredenburg. Cindy (you hear via your friends) is Chelsea's great rival, and was narrowly beaten out by Chelsea for the position of squad captain at the start of the year. Her boyfriend is another basketball player, Seth Javits, who is one of the school's more psychotic bullies, with a particular animus against your ex-friend Keith Tilley.
Neither Cindy nor Chelsea would be easy for you to get close to—that would be a job for Sydney, probably. But to make it seem like you are capable of pulling some weight for this plan, you tell her that there are a couple of cheerleaders you could probably get close enough to—close enough to pull off a replacement. Jessica and Eva Garner, for instance, have sometimes talked you—though that was back when you were dating Lisa, who hung out with them. You could probably also take a good swing at getting Yumi Saito or Lin Pol alone long enough to make a switch. But you have doubts about getting close enough any of the others.
"We could get any of them, Will," Sydney declares. "And we could get to any of them after getting one of them. Just think about who you want for sure"—she gives you another quick, warm smooch—"or who you'd definitely be okay with, and we'll go for her first."
"Don't you want to pick?" you ask. "I mean, if you're going to be her."
"Unless you want to be her, Will," Sydney says. "Maybe that's the way we want to do it? Nine cheerleaders, five for me and four for you. And one very, very lucky cocksman who gets to get it on with ninety percent of the cheerleading squad."
You almost liquefy with anticipation.
* * * * *
It will be Monday before you have to face your persecutors again, which gives you the weekend to decide. But you don't want to waste time. After a long night of wrestling with the possibilities—thrashing wakefully in your bed, and wetly in your dreams—you text Sydney the next morning that you want to try first for:
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