Pete needs a makeover....

I didn’t really know what to expect next, but there are rules of engagement for these conscripted makeovers. This was, in fact, something that happened with almost every ice cream party at Joanna’s. Most of the other girls had gone through something like this before, and, in fact, last month was Joanna’s turn because she was now head cheerleader.

None of this info (which I got piecemeal from Megan in asides) helped banish the feeling of caterpillars with cold feet crawling through my insides. I got tickled, hugged, squeezed and even kissed, all while naked.

I’d almost forgotten about that!

“You’ve got real little titties, Petey,” Megan commented, planting a juicy kiss on one.

“Argh!” I responded, feeling the nipple crinkle up.

“Except for being tall,” said Katalina, “you’re built like a middle-schooler! Itty-bitty-titties for sure.”

They seemed enormous to me, but I didn’t reply. No one would have heard me during the cackling assault, anyway.

Joanna produced a department store bag from a drawer and ripped it open to reveal four or five pairs of lacy underwear in various colors. Of course, someone handed me a pink pair.

“Put these on, Gayle!” she squealed.

I sat down at the enormous lighted vanity and pulled on the panties—with help, of course. The briefs fit perfectly, which surprised me. Joanna is a bit bigger in the butt than me, I would have sworn. I must have looked bothered.

“You can have the whole bag of panties,” Joanna told me. “I bought them two sizes too small.”

Megan sat on the bench beside me, so at least one flank was protected from being assaulted.

She pulled my head down to hear her, “You’re being a good sport about this, Petey.”

I shrugged and managed a weak grin. “Guys actually do similar shit, but a lot rougher. And they don’t smell as good.”

That got a laugh. “A jock makeover?” she giggled.

“Usually in the shower with brown soap and stiff brushes,” I explained.

“Not you!?” Megan looked concerned.

“Uh, no,” I admitted. “I’ve always managed to avoid it.”

“They wouldn’t dare!” she exclaimed. “I mean, you play football with them, but you are a girl!”

“I…?” I didn’t know what to say to that. Had she forgotten that I wasn’t always a girl?

I looked around the room at the four or five cheerleaders having a great time pulling out Joanna’s prettiest stuff and holding it up for me to look at.

“I bet you don’t have anything like this at home, Gayle!” Katalina snorted, waving what might be a pair of baby doll pajamas at me.

“No, I don’t,” I admitted. Why would I?

Had everyone here forgotten the real me? Or maybe I should say, the original me, since everything that was happening at the moment felt all too real.

Things progressed quickly, and pretty soon, everyone was trying on things from Joanna’s big closet. Well, nearly everyone.

Joanna, Megan, Katalina, and a girl named Daphne concentrated on me. Before I knew what was happening, the top part of Joanna’s cheerleader uniform had gone over my head while Megan pulled the skirt bottom up my legs.

Joanna laughed. “Been a long time since you wore a skirt, huh, Gayle?”

I had to agree. “Forever,” I said.

She winked at me. It communicated somehow that she was in on the joke we were playing on the other girls. That Gayle had always been the real me. I think. I mean, I didn’t think that. Thinking about it made my head hurt.

“Petey, Pete, Pete!” Megan crowed, stepping back to get a better look. “You’re adorable!”

“And those legs!” Joanna added. “Gayle, have you been shaving your legs?”

Had I? I shook my head. “I’m just, I’m just not very hairy…” I tried to explain it away.

“Bitch!” said Joanna, smiling, and several other girls laughed.

“But what are we going to do for her makeup?” Daphne suddenly wailed. “Joanna is so blond, and Megan is too dark. Did anybody bring makeup that will work for Gayle?”

Had I agreed to wear makeup? I didn’t think so, but the inevitable tide of sentiment was against me. Everyone ran off to look for makeup that would suit me: a fair-skinned, blue-eyed brunette.

I got a glimpse in the full-length mirror on the back of Joanna’s closet door, and it startled me. The slightly rumpled-looking cheerleader in Friendly blue-and-gold was me? Holy shit!

“This is, uh, this is just for Halloween. You know, in a couple of weeks?” I searched Megan’s face for confirmation that we were just playing around.

She beamed at me. “Sure, Petey! If you say so!”

I groaned.

In the giggling chaos, someone had found makeup in the right shades for my coloring. Well, what they considered the right shades. My skill at broken-field running and dodging did not help me avoid it, especially after Daphne let out another of her howls.

“Her eyebrows! We’ve got to do her eyebrows!” she wailed, causing me to flinch and going a longer way to breaking my nerve than some of the snarled insults I’d heard from opposing linemen.

“Leave my eyebrows alone!” I protested.

“But you’ve got black hairs on the bridge of your nose! It’s almost a unibrow!”

“A what?”

“We’ll just clean them up a little,” Joanna put in, supplying the tweezers. “You can draw them back on when you need your game face on.”

“What? Draw them back on? You want me to wear makeup on the football field? Ow!”

Catalina had a go at my hair, too, brushing and combing it this way and that. I was sure that I heard the snipping of scissors, and Megan almost confirmed it, remarking that she’d never realized how shaggy I’d gotten.

I’d last had a haircut in August, so it was probably true, but I didn’t need some homemade hairstyle. What if they cut it in bangs?

“Great idea!” one of the girls squealed.

I was pretty sure I hadn’t said the part about bangs out loud, but she made me flinch again.

Just then, one of the younger girls from the junior squad burst in. “Guys!” she shouted. “Guys! There are guys downstairs!”

Everyone looked at her. “I mean guy-type guys. Men!”

Preview of Pete 42 on Patreon: Too Many Men on the Field