And the winner is …
I had always been a strong supporter of the cheerleading squad at high school. My best friend, Sally, was a cheerleader. Sally and I had been best friends ever since we moved into the house next to hers when she and I were four years old.
I had encouraged her to be a cheerleader when she was getting cold feet before tryouts. I had been there to help the squad with many practical things and have always bought tickets for their fundraising lotteries. No, I had no wish to be a cheerleader myself but the girls were fun and good friends. All of them, not only Sally, by now.
So it was a no-brainer that I would buy a ticket for their latest lottery early in senior year. Only one this time. For some reason you were only allowed to buy one. On the other hand it was expensive. Sally wrote my name on a small card and put it in the bowl. Only then did I think about asking about the prize. Shows how strong and unthinking my support was.
- A date with Arnold Racioppi.
Oh, oh. Arnold Racioppi was not only the most valuable player on the football team (Quarter-back). He was also the most sought-after boyfriend in school. Apart from being a great athlete he was an all-round nice guy. No, he didn’t have a girlfriend at the time. That happened a lot. No one, not least himself could understand why. I actually knew him quite well since we both worked on the school newspaper. But back to the situation that quite obviously needed some rectification.
- Sally, take my name out of that bowl. You can keep the money but you must understand how ridiculous it would be.
- Why? You are not the only boy who has bought a ticket.
Despite our friendship Sally absolutely refused to do what I wanted and demanded. I finally gave up. The risk that I would “win” was miniscule so why bother?
I should have bothered. At the lottery draw:
- And the winner is ….. Peter Smith!!!
The reaction to that clearly shows that I go to a completely crazy school. Cheering and people congratulating me. I realized that I had gained a reputation for being girly and/or gay just because I hung out with the cheerleaders. Why can’t people see another reason for a boy to hang out with a bunch of beautiful girls? And the cheerleaders are not my only friends. I have many guy friends as well! All of them apparently happy for my sake. And I’m on the baseball team. So what if it’s the B-team. It’s still a school team. By the way, my teammates congratulated me as well.
Arnold came up to me and told me how glad he was that I had won. He also said that he was looking forward to the date and would plan something really special for me. Did I say that I go to a crazy school? I’m not small. I may not be a huge football player but I’m not small. However, standing next to the massive Arnold, who IS a huge football player, I was dwarfed.
Looking around, I realized that trying to back out was not a good idea.
That started two weeks of madness. First of all, I was named an Honorary Cheerleader and expected to train with them. Of course I had to be. I was going to a date with a footballer players and football players date cheerleaders. Q.E.D.! At least that gave me (and the Principal) an out. Cheerleading practice was counted as PE so at least I didn’t have to face the locker room - I thought. As it turned out I still had to change with the boys. Only this time at the same time as the football team. You know the one with my future date. Somewhat embarrassing, especially considering the tiny hotpants and crop top I was required to wear. Just to make a point clear. I did NOT wear skirts of dresses to school. NOR lingerie.
Of course, my embarrassment and humiliation didn’t end there. Last spring I had had a rather tempestuous disagreement with my parents. My father wanted me to go a manly man camp that he had gone to at my age. Apparently, that was the high point of his life (rather sad really). Me? I love baseball and had insisted on a baseball camp. So what if I’m not the greatest player? I still love the sport. I had won. The camp was great.
Still, that had left my parents a bit miffed with me. I had not realized how long they could hold a grudge. I was about to learn.
Normal parents would have been shocked about the date thing and stopped the thing there and then. My parents didn’t. Out of sheer spite they aided and abetted the other lunatics instead. Of course in the most humiliating way possible.
My mother took me lingerie shopping.
- Mom, I don’t need any lingerie!
- Stop being silly. There is no way I’ll let my son go on a first date with a boy without proper lingerie.
- Why? It’s not like Arnold is going to see it anyway.
- Well, you never know and just in case …
- Mom! I’m not that kind of a boy!
- Well, I should hope so. Not on a FIRST date. But just in case …
Somehow I found myself in the lingerie store with my mother.
- Hello. Can we get some help? My son is going on a date with Arnold Racioppi and he needs some really nice lingerie.
- Oh, he is the one that won the lottery. How excited he must be.
- White. The lingerie must be white. He is a virgin you know.
- Really, no girls either?
- No, he isn’t that kind of boy.
Actually I’m THAT kind of a boy but for some reason I never had a girlfriend that this had been an issue with. Sally? Don’t be silly! She is like a sister to me.
- Peter is a late bloomer and rather flat on top. Is there anything to help him “enhance” things?
- Of course. He is not the first one I have helped. Not even the first boy. But he is MUCH cuter than the other one.
Surprisingly we left the shop without buying any “chicken filets”. No, it was my victory. Between my mother the enthusiastic assistant, more than eager to help me, I was outgunned. The assistant had performed miracles with tucking and nipping and hooks and things like that so now I was the not so proud owner of a white see through underwired bra that with the right tricks gave me the appearance of small but enticing breasts (with nipples showing through the flimsy fabric. My only consolation was that Albert NEVER was going to see anything more than the upper edge (wort case). My wardrobe was also extended with some stockings (black) and a garter belt (white). And why did the panties (white) have to be thongs? Most uncomfortable. At least Mom paid for “my” lingerie.
To bad that wasn’t the most embarrassing stop on our shopping spree. Mother dragged me in a drugstore.
- My son is going on his first date with a boy. I want to be sure that they have condoms if the football player my son is going to date has forgotten to bring any.
- MOM! I’m not THAT kind of boy!
How many times would I have to say that?
- What size?
- Peter, how big is Arnold?
As a matter of fact I had seen Arnold in a turgid state (once). That was another reason that THING never would come near a hole of mine (apart from me being decidedly heterosexual that his). That thing was huge!
My blush revealed the fact that I had had no intention of revealing.
- Extra large that is.
By that time I was wishing that I could turn back time and have gone to dad’s camp instead. At the time I didn’t reflect on why I didn’t wish I had checked what the lottery prize was before buying the ticket. Addled brain. Definitely addled brain.
This time I was expected to buy the offensive package myself.
At the beginning of the week, I wouldn’t have believed that going over to Sally and practice cheerleading with her, already changed into the tiny hotpants and crop top of course, would be a relief. Anything to get as far away from the risk of having to show off “my” new lingerire to dad. What I hadn’t realized was that that was only postponing things. Why did Dad keep repeating what a lucky guy Arnold was?
I was happy to learn that it was Dad that would take me shopping for a dress and shoes. How deluded of me!
- Peter, change into your new pretty lingerie.
- Why? I don’t need that to buy a dress.
- Don’t be silly. Have you never seen how girls are dressed? I had expected more of you.
-
OK. That could be interpreted in more than one way. I was not to ask for clarification. By now I had stopped to fight and just went and changed. The whole thing. Stockings, garter belt , panties and bra. I even did all the artful things to fill it out. Despite the hot day I chose to wear long trousers for some reason.
- Hello! My son has a hot date with a football player. He needs a sexy dress for the date.
- So this is Peter. I heard about it. Not many boys are as brave as he is. He will have a great date with Arnold. I had a date with him and he quite destroyed dating for me. No date after lived up to that one.
I recognized her. We had cooking class together. So what if I like to cook? Most great chefs are men. Manly men!
- His best feature is his legs. So something short would be best. And something that shows of the tops of his breasts. A little bit of tit-illation.
You could hear the pause. At the time I already had a very low opinion of Dad but that was a new low. I had not expected him to be that crude.
- Come here Peter. Get into the changing room. Get down to your undies while a get you a dress. I know just the right dress for you. It will knock the socks off Arnold. And perhaps something more as well.
Wink, wink. I felt nauseous. I did get undress while waiting for her.
- Oh my, what a pretty boy you are. The bra is to die for. How did you get those A+ breasts? Arnold will be drooling when he sees you in that lingerie.
- Arnold will never even see the edges of those things. I’m NOT that kind of boy.
How often would I have to repeat that?
- Sure you aren’t. That’s why you bought the ticket.
Wink wink. Please shoot me!
I have to give it to her though. The dress was just right. Just right if you wanted to seduce Arnold that is. I didn’t. Still I couldn’t deny that it looked good on me. Really good. Dad was right. I have great legs. And the way the top of “my tits” cleared the top of the dress was amazing. If anyone but me had been wearing this dress, I’d have asked her. Damn, I would have done it even if it had been a boy. That thought disturbed me given that I WAS going to wear it to a date with a boy.
- I knew this was the dress for you. Let’s show it to dad.
- Oh my Peter. This is so you. You are beautiful. Arnold is a lucky guy indeed.
I could see the glint in his eyes. He knew very well how much I hated this. Which of course only made him enjoy this even more.
- I’m sorry Sir. I will not allow Peter to buy this short dress if he insists on wearing garters and stockings. It’d be positively indecent.
I saw the disappointment in my dad’s face.
- Oh too bad. I’m sorry, Peter. I know how much you wanted to wear the stockings. But Betty is right. I can’t allow you out of the house dressed like that. Betty, do you have any long hold ups?
- We do. And, Peter, I saw you wore long trousers coming here. In this heat! Wouldn’t it be more comfortable with a short skirt instead?
-
At least I didn’t have to pay for the dress, skirt and stockings. I wore the skirt out of the shop. A strange feeling since I still wore the thong panties.
You know how people talk about male shoe salesmen? It’s true. At least in one case. He got his view up my skirt when trying on shoes. Only AFTER that did he suggest I put on the dress and everything to get the right feel (up). And did Dad give him a wink?
How can girls walk in shoes like that?
I had hoped for a tactical retreat home after that but we were ambushed. As we passed the salon the owner ran out at dragged us in. The owner gave an offer I couldn’t refuse. Well, an offer my father wouldn’t let me refuse. She offered a full makeover with all the trimmings as long as she was allowed to use before and after pictures in her advertising. The full work would be next Friday. The day of the date but I still left the salon with expertly applied but toned downed make-up. I was lucky in that this was the GOOD salon, the one Sally used. I could have done without the piercings and earrings though. And the necklace was totally not necessary. And I was getting a bit tired of hearing about how brave a boy I am. Not afraid to show the inner me. This is NOT the inner me! My “proud” father is lapping it up though. That malicious smile! I could kill him!
I was really starting to look forward to Friday. Don’t get me wrong. I was certainly not looking forward to the date. But the date meant that the whole thing would be over with. My parents would have got their revenge. I could stop practicing with the cheerleaders and things would get back to normal. Normal! What a lovely word. Come on Friday!
I owe it to Sally. She made sure she and not Mom taught me how to walk in those ridiculous shoes. She also assisted when learning to dance in those torture things. NO boy should have to learn how to dance with his father, at least not when HE leads. Not in a dress, stockings (long hold up) and in those menaces to public health laughingly called shoes but consisting of only a few tiny straps.
Friday night I was all ready for the big date. The one and only big lottery date. The date the whole school had been waiting for.
The salon had surpassed itself. I was cute. Really cute in a toned down way. The indecent dress was actually just on the decent side of the line after Sally’s help. My new earrings sparkled as did my necklace and anklet (While cheaper than diamonds Swarowski is damned expensive). Over my mother’s protests Sally had put in the finishing touches. This had really made us come closer. Maybe I’d be brave enough to ask her out? Yeah, ironic or what. The boy everyone lauded fore being so brave was too afraid to ask his best friend out. Sally even gave me a peck on the cheek after getting my breasts in order!
Sally and I were waiting in my room, giggling. Wait! Was I giggling? Anyway, I could hear Arnold ring the bell. I had been firmly told to wait in my room and give my parents time for the “meet the parents chat”. I finally was called down. I floated down the stairs in the most magnificent way. I damned well should, given the hours of practice. Arnold looked great. He met me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all?
That was without taking my parents into consideration.
- Peter, I put the extra large condoms you bought in your clutch.
- Peter and Arnold, we understand that young people are young people and that hormones are raging. Still, we would prefer that if you have sex that you have it here at home where it is safe. Arnold, you are welcome to use Peter’s room whenever you want.
- DAD! I’m not THAT kind of a boy.
Hey, that is MY room they are offering. Why didn’t anyone ask ME? I wish I could have wiped that satisfied smirk off their faces. And I really hope that wasn’t a smother laugh from Sally that I heard from upstairs.
Exit one thoroughly humiliated, embarrassed and blushing (but very cute) boy.
Given the circumstances and especially what my parents had put me through, I had a great date. I remember thinking that apparently Arnold knows me better than I do myself (hm, that was an unsettling thought, if any).
I had not expected to enjoy a ballet, but Spartacus was not was I had expected. The force, the vitality, the virility … Hm. Yes ehm. I had never dined on such fine food. I had dismissed that as something for snobs with more money than sense. I was wrong about that. The dancing lessons had somehow stuck in my head. In short it was the greatest date I’d ever had. Let’s not get into such irritating details such as it was my first date. Let me rephrase it. It was a great date. We talked about many things and enjoyed all of them. Arnold was not stupid, so he had seen through my parents and their attempts to embarrass and humiliate me. I told him the background. We dissected them thoroughly. After that I relaxed and just enjoyed the evening. And it was some evening to enjoy. As promised he delivered me at my porch before midnight. Not much before midnight but still before.
- Peter, I had expected this date to be just for fun and for the cheerleading squad mone drive. I had not expected a boy to win. In hindsight I’m really happy you did. No girl could have been cuter. You are fun to be fun with. I knew that from the school paper but still… This was the first time I really enjoyed a date. Usually the girls are so focused to “land” me as their boyfriend that I lose interest halfway through even if I go throuth the motions, every time. This time was so relaxed. I was happy to discover that you like the same things I do. Who’d expected you to be a ballet fan. And you dance quite well. Sally?
- Sally.
- And you are just so cute.
At that point he gave me the goodnight kiss. On the lips. Intensely. I just let myself be swept off my feet. Quite literally as he lifted me up as he kissed me. I was still quite giddy when he put me down and asked
- Peter, I have never had such a great date as with you. Will you go on another date with me tomorrow?
- Eh, yes
Still giddy I hadn’t really heard what he’d said.
- Great! I’ll pick you up at ten tomorrow morning. Wear something informal. I thought we’d just spend time together doing things just the two of us, together. Still, if you have comfortable skirt please wear it. Don’t tell anyone I said this but you have the prettiest legs in school.
-
I finally got what I had agreed to then. Strangely enough, I didn’t regret it.
The door opened and revealed a couple of parents that judging from their smirks had seen the kiss even if they hadn’t heard the conversation.
- Mr and Mrs Smith, your have raised a son that is a delight to date. We had such a great date that I asked him out tomorrow again. He graciously accepted. For the whole day so I expect that we will be back earlier tomorrow evening. Perhaps even in time to have dinner with you. And regarding sex, is the offer about Peter’s room still open? I assume it’s OK if I stay the night?
I could have broken out in loud cheers when I saw my parents faces when they heard that last. Arnold really knew how to troll them.
For he WAS trolling them, wasn’t he?
And now for something different. Not different for me, come to think about it, but a change from the general gloom.
This is a sequel to “And the Winner is …” To understand this sequel you really need to (re)read that.
While my parents just stood there shocked Arnold said
“Until tomorrow morning then. I’ll take you up in the mountains so wear sturdy shoes and suitable skirt if you have one.
Thanks to my parents I did have one. A short one.
True to his word Arnold rang the bell at exactly 10 am. The skirt was the only girl garment I wore. Shoes, socks, shirt etc. were all my ordinary boy stuff. If only they had screamed “BOY” instead of just whisper it!
I admit. I had good time with Arnold that day. He certainly knew some good tracks and spots in the mountains and his ample back-back held a delicious lunch. And he had made it himself. Well, to be honest I didn’t really have a good time, I had a great time. For some reason Arnold and I just felt comfortable together. And as things turned out we have lots of interests in common. No hugging, no cuddling, no kissing - to my relief. Just a great day with a guy I liked (and not THAT way) in the mountains.
As Arnold had said we were back in time for dinner. Despite the way things had gone awry, much by their own actions and spite, my parents were scrupulously polite – at first. Then father found out that Arnold was into old cars. My father is passionate about them. I’m not. Another way I disappointed my father.
All the time Arnold was the perfect gentleman. When it was time to call it a night my parents took it with good grace that Arnold went out to his car to get his overnight bag. My parents implied that they had realized that Arnold had trolled the night before. They were calling the bluff.
“Good night boys. And have fun!”
That night my bed got a real work-out. It made lots of noise. But nowhere as much as Arnold and I. There was heavy breathing and moaning, there was grunting and screaming ending with
“Yes, yes, yes, YEEEES!” (me, falsetto)
Coming down to breakfast we met two shell-shocked parents. Then we tore into them. The way they had treated me. Pushed me into being girly to embarrass me. And then we revealed that last night was all a big act. No sex, only acting. Pure “When Harry met Sally”. Arnold had slept on the floor. Finally we got through to them. They were even a bit ashamed. But even more relieved. Still, I’d have liked them to be AS ashamed as relieved.
So that was the end of it all. Of course it wasn’t (even a Bru story isn’t his short).
I happily went to school that Monday. Full boy mode. Prepared for boys’ PE and all that. The Date (with capital D) was but a memory. A nice memory, but still only a memory. I was looking forward to going back to normal and the end of all this nonsense.
Of course some people wanted to know more about the Date. OK, practically everyone did. Everyone from Sally to the lowest of the low freshman pestered me. However, I’m NOT one to kiss and tell. Especially since I DID kiss. By lunchtime people had got the message. So after lunch I happily went and changed for boys’ PE only to be met by a surprised coach.
“Peter, why are you here? You train with the cheerleaders.”
“That was only for the silliness with the Date.”
“Nobody told me that. As far as I’m concerned you are a former student, an ex-student, a dearly departed student. If you have a problem with that talk to the Principal.” Coach Miller never was a great fan of mine.
So I went to see the Principal.
“Yes, you are still with the cheerleaders.”
“Why? It was just supposed to be until the Date?”
“Oh, but I have sooo much fun with this so I decided to keep you with the cheerleaders.”
“You are doing this to me because you think it’s fun?!!”
Why do people do this to me all the time. I’m a GOOD boy. I don’t kick puppies and steal little kids’ lunch money. Why do people keep doing this to me?
“Yes, it is. And tell me honestly. Do you prefer boys’ PE with coach Miller or cheerleading practice with miss Meunière?”
“I admit coach Miller and I don’t really see eye to eye but I want a stop to all this girly nonsense.”
“As I see it it’s a win-win-win-win-win situation. Coach Miller gets rid of you, you don’t have to deal with coach Miller, the cheerleaders keep their pet, you’re still a cheerleader if you want to date Arnold again. AND I have my fun! Besides, have you seen how happy our QB is today?”
I realized that further protesting was a lose-lose-lose-lose-lose situation. If I kept protesting the Principal would only find some way to embarrass me further. I’d just have to live with cheerleading practice. But that was IT! No more girly stuff.
Could I get any more humiliated? Yes, I could. After cheerleading practice I actually physically bumped into Arnold when going into the showers, both of us naked. I’ll refrain from repeating the comments from the football players.
Apart from that, things got back to normal. Not exactly as before since Arnold and I had become good friends. We did more things together and Arnold often came over to help Father restoring that old wreck in the back-yard. Another thing we did together was take ballet classes.
Arnold claimed that the performance of Spartacus we had seen had inspired him to start to take classes. Just for fun of course since he was too old for anything else. He also claimed that he had got an offer of 2 for 1. Meaning a male friend of his could take classes for free. I admit. I had my doubts about Arnold’s offer. I didn’t believe for a minute the thing about the 2 for 1. I suspected that he’d pay for me and the reason was that he was afraid to be the only boy and needed moral support. I was naïve. I never for a moment considered that Arnold might have had less than honorable motives. Anyway, I accepted the offer. I too had been captivated by Spartacus.
I later learned that I was both right and wrong. The 2:1 deal WAS real. Arnold did NOT want to be the only boy in class. As I came to see under the self-confident surface I realized that Arnold was much more vulnerable than he wanted anyone, including me, to know. Nonetheless, he did not have ulterior motives – then.
Too bad that I had got a “reputation” in town by that time. When I went to the dance store I had to firmly reject pink tights. I had done my homework and knew that boys wear white T-shirt or leotard, dance belt and BLACK tights. Too bad I hadn’t read enough to know the difference between girl black dance tights and boy black dance tights. The girl in the dance store was so convinced that I was a girly boy, the girlyfriend of Arnold, that she made sure I got the less than opaque girl version. I can’t figure out why since everything else I bought was boy stuff. First class - another embarrassment. However, by that time I had started to get used to all that. Since everyone in class assured me that it was all right to use those tights, no penis visible anyway, only my (firm) buttocks, I decided to just go with the flow. And besides, the teacher claimed that she’d see better how my muscles worked. Of course Arnold had the thicker, opaque boys’ version. To be honest he was quite handsome in the formfitting dance clothing. Me? I was called cute. And as Arnold had said, I have the best-looking legs in school, as set off by the all too thin dance tights.
So things were back to normal, barring a few minor issues. Like that most people in school were convinced that the honorary cheerleader and the big QB was an item. The fact that we had become good friends was misinterpreted. The minor issue that one of the cheerleaders moved away and I was shanghaied to be a regular cheerleader was another. After the way I had always supported the cheerleading squad I didn’t really have a(n awsome) leg to stand on when I tried to decline. As was the revelation to the school of my legs on match days when we wore the skirts to school. Hey, you didn’t think the Principal would let me be a male cheerleader? Not fun enough for him!
Still, I managed to keep my spot on the baseball B team through all this. Not that we had much success but regardless of the poor results I love baseball!
Things settled down as I said. School, cheerleading, baseball, ballet, spending time with the QB. Just ordinary boy stuff. Just as said QB taking me to a couple of ballet performances in the nearby city. We both had really got into this ballet thing. Arnold’s parents are well to do. Mine – miserly. Oh, they are also fairly well to do and not really miserly, c.f. earlier girly clothes purchases, but they think that teenagers should mostly gain their own pocket money themselves and with school, cheerleading, baseball, ballet, spending time with the QB … there was not much time for that. However, I paid for my own meals.
As the weeks went on Arnold outperformed himself on the field. The team went from victory to victory. Sally, now my fellow cheerleader, claimed that the real change came when I became a regular cheerleader. Pure silliness. If anything it was the ballet that gave him that extra edge. However, I did notice that the other football players were much nicer to me. The ribbing in the locker room had stopped completely. Yes, I still changed with the football team even if I was a cheerleader. Strange. The Principal insisted that the squad was a GIRL cheerleading squad and I should wear a girl uniform just as the other cheerleaders but I had to change with the boys and not with the other cheerleaders. Something didn’t quite add up there. Of course the reason was that the Principal was EVIL. Of course he himself claimed he wasn’t evil, just impish. And I couldn’t complain since that would mean involving my parents. My parents that were unaware that I was a cheerleader and not only the manly man boy that I desperately tried to convince them. Besides, Arnold convinced me it wasn’t worth kicking up a fuss.
Did I say normal? Well, it was for some time. Then Arnold started to act weird. We were still good friends but did he have to look at my legs so much? Even if the shorts I wore were almost to the knees. Since the weather was unusually warm well into Fall I preferred shorts. I decided to pull his leg, as opposed to my apparently irresistible ones. I voluntarily went to the mall to buy a piece of girl clothing. A pair of short shorts. A spur of the moment stupid idea.
First, I was the only boy that was alone in the shop which gave me some looks and some whispers between other shoppers. I think I heard Arnold mentioned. I tried to ignore them the best I could. I was not very good at it. And the shorts. I hadn’t really imagined them that short and girly. I turned around and started to leave the store only to bump into Mary from cooking class. Just my luck she worked in the shop that day.
“Aren’t they lovely shorts”
“Sure are. Sorry, but I have to leave now.”
“Oh, don’t be shy. Looking for something to tease Arnold?”
I was but really not in the way Mary thought.
“Hm, no I was just looking.”
“But these are not really what you are looking for. We have more exciting ones in the back of the store.”
The problem was that Mary talked a bit too loud and people started looking at us so I just followed her there.
“Look at these. Arnold will love these on you.”
OK, so why does everyone think that there is a thing between me and Arnold. I just ignored the fact that I was in the store exactly to buy shorts to disturb Arnold.
The shorts Mary held couldn’t be described as Daisy Dukes. Cheeky was more accurate. And neon pink.
“NO Mary, I’m not THAT kind of boy!”
“Are you really sure? These will look sooo good on you.”
Mary must be a witch. Somehow she got me not only to try on the offending garment. Very tight and very revealing. I still don’t know how I ended up outside the shop with a pair shorts in a bag. Denim, NOT neon pink but still cheeky.
Well, at least I wasn’t disappointed by Arnold’s reaction. He had problems trying to avoid looking at my legs when he drove us into the city that Saturday. On second thought this was not a good idea considering Arnold was driving Still, the whole thing would have been a great prank if only we hadn’t come across the Principal.
“Hello, Peter, Arnold. Nice Daisy Dukes Peter. I suppose you are aware that those are fine to wear to school, as long as you are a boy of course” He winked to Arnold and then he walked on with a Cheshire cat smile. Or was it an impish smile?
“Do you think he really meant that?” Arnold wondered rather shocked.
“Oh, he did. He most certainly did. He’s evil.”
“Evil? I don’t think so. He sounded friendly enough. But still he must have been joking.”
“NO!”
“Well, I bet you 100 dollars" he joked. I was weak and in need of money so I accepted the bet. That was a bet I couldn’t lose.
The Principal made a point of greeting me that Monday morning. And also making sure that everyone understood that ONLY BOYS, the implication being only me, were allowed to wear so short shorts, or so short skirts for that matter. He stressed the skirt part. And he had that damned Cheshire cat smile all the time.
This had two consequences: 1. No one doubted that I was Arnold’s girlfriend (girlyfriend?) any longer. 2. About a third of the girls started to hate me. Not because of Arnold. They had given up on him a long time ago. No, they couldn’t accept that I had more beautiful legs than they. Wait, what about the cheerleading skirts? Those are longish and when wearing those the focus was on the cheerleading. So people had only partly realized the awesomeness of my legs. Now EVERYONE looked at my legs. ALL of my legs, way up to … ahem. At least I won the 100 dollar bet. If only Arnold had shown any regret about losing. What he didn’t lose that evening was the football game. Arnold played better than ever. The Principal even came down on the field and told us how proud he was of the team – and of the squad. But why did he wink to me?
Changing after the game, after I had changed back into the cheeky shorts I turned around and saw Arnold. Red face and erect sign of sexual attraction. Only for a moment though. Then he grabbed his towel. That was the last day I didn’t wear long trousers. To school AND when I spent time with Arnold outside of school. Good thing the weather changed at that time.
This didn’t stop me from hanging out with Arnold though. I wondered what that said about me.
And for the record, my parents never saw those shorts. I made sure to sneak out and in. I always made sure to avoid anything girly that they could see. I was their manly son again. Even if I hadn’t gone to that man-up camp Father had wanted me to go to.
To be honest I was starting to have doubts about that though. I liked being friends with Arnold. I had got used to everyone in school assuming that we were a couple. I could live with that. What I found more difficult was living with what I thought. And perhaps what Arnold thought. I firmly pushed all those thoughts and doubts into the deepest holes I could find in my mind. I was a boy. Period!
As I said the weather changed and the Saturday before Christmas Arnold was over at my place when a snow blizzard hit us. No, Arnold wasn’t there because of me. He was there to be with his other friend, Father. They still had some work to do on that heap of junk before it was finished. I hadn’t expected them to spend THAT much time on that so I wound up in the kitchen helping Mother to prepare dinner. I had nothing else planned.
After dinner Father told Arnold that he had better stay the night at our place. Arnold went out to his car and brought back his oversized backpack. Then we went up to my room. No, the oversized backpack did not contain any overnight stuff for him. No pajamas. However, it did contain a parcel wrapped in Christmas paper. I had never seen Arnold so embarrassed as when he gave it to me. Not even the incident with the short shorts.
“Peter, this is a Christmas present for you. I know that this is not really what you expected or even wanted but when I saw it I couldn’t resist. I HAD to buy it for you. Ehrm glgll cough. Open it now and if you want to you can beat me up afterwards. I will not stop you. I know that you’ve said that you are not THAT kind of boy. ,,,,,,, Oh whathehell Merry Christmas.”
I opened the parcel. It contained the most exquisite baby doll set. NOW I understood what Mary in Mall had hinted about. So what if I had been back to that shop and looked at a few things? It wasn’t like I had bought anything after the shorts!
What do you know? I WAS that kind of boy. However, we made sure not to make too much noise. To be honest I wasn’t that excited by the mechanics of it all even if Arnold was but I liked the emotional side of it.
At breakfast
“Hey boys, no need to go into all that acting again. We got the message last time so no need to try to shock us again. You are good actors but you overacted this time. Especially Peter’s high pitched ecstatic screaming “Yes, yes, yesyesyes, YEES YEEEEEEEEEES!” was a bit over the top. “