As soon as I said that I realized how stupid I was. For one thing you don’t say that if you are the only boy in a locker room filled with cheerleaders. And that was not even the most stupid part of it.

However, there I was with all those girl eyes focused on me. To make things worse was that despite the fact that I was a cheerleader myself, the only boy cheerleader in the school’s history, it was the first time I was in the same locker room as my squadmates. We had an extra training session on a Saturday and for some reason only the girls’ locker room had been unlocked leaving me hot and sweaty and I was supposed to join the rest of the squad in going to the mall. The solution was for me to wait for the girls to shower and change and then I’d shower. I prepared myself as much as I could to speed up the process. Taking off as much as was decent and undoing my low ponytail in order to just pass through the locker room quickly and then do the rest in the shower room, with the door closed. In hindsight another mistake. Too bad they let me come in when Laura was still without her top. I shouldn’t have said it but that bra really was all wrong for her. Band, cup size, model, color … Laura is very well-endowed and had apparently not taken that fully into account when getting that bra. Stupid thing to do for someone who jumps around as much as we do.

“What do you know about that, stupid sissy?” Laura had always been against me joining the squad.

Then Shelley, looking at my hair that for once was not in ponytail, gave a gasp and exclaimed

“Oh my God, he does!”

“What do you mean? Even if he is a sissy at least he doesn’t wear bras.”

“Don’t you see it? He’s Girleeboy!”

“Yeah, I know he’s a girly boy. That doesn’t make him an expert on bras. And I still don’t understand why he was let into the squad and even less why you let him in here.”

The simple answer to why I was on the squad was that I had outperformed every else in the tryouts. Just a minor detail of course.

Unfortunately Shelley was not silenced.

“Oh, but he does wear bras. Don’t you see? Kurt is Girleeeeeeeeboy!”

The locker room went silent. If they had looked somewhat angrily at me before I was now intensely scrutinized. You see, wearing bras was not foreign to me. As a matter of fact, at the time the entire country was plastered with billboards showing me in various bras. Of course also wearing a seductive smile, panties and stockings. You know, “If a boy can look this good in **** lingerie ….”.

Until now people had not connected me with Girleeboy. Now the cat was out of the bag. Which reminded me that I had to send that code message to the agency.

In hindsight it’s really ironic. It all started with me not liking to be touched by strangers. In particular I hate having someone standing behind me doing things to my head. Mirrors are not that good at giving an idea of what is going on. I don’t like not being in control. Hah, how ironic. Just to make things worse the person standing behind me also wields huge scissors, knives and other lethal objects. No, I don’t like to have my hair cut. That was the origin of my undoing.

Last time mother had promised not to force me again to get a haircut. Mother is a stickler when it comes to the letter of agreements. Not so much when it comes to the spirit.

One day early last Spring when we were in the big city Mother suddenly dragged me into an office building. At first I didn’t understand why. Then I found out that there was an audition for a photo shoot. They were looking for good-looking people but not in the professional model range. The problem was that it was for swimwear. Women’s swimwear. The original idea was for a campaign on the theme that *** swimwear makes (almost) everyone look good. Featuring a number of females of different ages from about 10 to 70. And one male. Mom signed me up to audition for, not the male but the young teenage girl (I was still in my last year of middle school at the time). She expected me to be so embarrassed that I’d “voluntarily” get a haircut. To be honest my long golden hair was better suited for a girl than a boy. Then things got out of hand. Plan met reality and as we all know plans are the first causalities in any action. Somehow Mother made me go through the audition. I wore what I thought was a skimpy bikini. Just shows how little I knew about the subject.

The photographer was delighted but he also noted that I was not exactly female despite my hair and my legs. Before that I had never even thought about my legs. Now I was told that I have magnificent legs. Executives were called in. The end result was that the campaign was modified. Now there would be two males in the pictures. The not really bad-looking but very hairy male and then the line-up of different females with one undercover male included. The idea was the campaign would start and then some weeks later they would reveal that one of the “females” was just an ordinary boy. Looking very good in the girls’ swimwear.

Things got very confused at that point and I can’t really remember how things happened but in the end Mother and I left the agency after signing a contract. The amount they were willing to pay me was staggering. The clincher was that they promised to protect my identity. That’s where the codename Girleeboy started. Further, the campaign would start as school ended and would be finished long before I started high school. Even if there was a risk it was small. A one-time thing that I’d soon be able to put behind me as I put the money in the bank. Hah! Famous last words. At least the haircut had been declared “strengt verboten”

Before the actual shoot I had “the works” done to me. To begin with every single hair below the eyesbrows had been removed. Yes, even down there, to ensure smooth skin even if a garment became a bit off position. My hair had never been as luscious, make-up to soften features and add a year or two. Oh, I almost forgot – a superfluous body part firmly tucked away and secured. The shoots went well. All the people were nice to me, even if often smiling at me. The “other” females were really nice. The hairy guy even told me that I was “very brave”. They all knew that I wasn’t really a girly boy despite my codename. My real name was never mentioned. So I have magnificent legs and hair to die for (if you are a girl). What I don’t have are curves. Did you know that professionals can just by using the right bra/bikini top, pulling and tucking whatever excess flesh there is and expert application of makeup on the chest make you look like having (smallish) breasts? The absence of hips was to a certain extent disguised by the choice of bikini bottoms. And then my “image” was more of a tomboy. A cute tomboy named Mary in the adverts.

Remember what I said about plans and reality? Oh, the publicity campaign went well. The problem was that a very influential blogger posted a piece titled “There is something about Mary”. You guessed it. It was about me. Not revealing that I was a boy, she didn’t know that. Instead she gushed over the tomboyish charm of what in the pictures looked like a 16-year-old girl. The blogger went crazy over my hair and legs contrasted to my narrow hips and the “pert little breasts”. To top it up she went on about the smile. Yeah, I smiled all right. I did that to hide my embarrassment while being photographed. The coy smile was soon a meme. My tomboyish charm and magnificent legs made the rounds in media, blogosphere and social media. Then the agency revealed that it was a boy. Fortunately they realized that mystique was better than full revelation. I did one interview, without photos. In the interview I “revealed” that I wasn’t transgendered or really a feminine boy. I was only a boy who didn’t want to be put in a box but experience the full “human experience” including the joy of wearing bikinis, stockings and skirts. Oh, how I lied! I, if anyone had been put in a little box.

What Mother and I had failed to take into account was that we had committed me to more campaigns if the agency so wanted. So far so bad. What we also had committed to was to for all practical purposes let the agency run my life. That’s why I lied through my teeth in that interview. That was also why my magnificent legs soon were showcased, in nylon, as soon as possible. First only the legs and a week later showing all of me, fortunately fully dressed (in a skirt) this time. My golden hair flowing and somehow I had managed to reproduce that smile.

I spent much of the summer between middle school and high school in the Caribbean. Not that I got to use the beaches much. First, much of the time was spent in front of the cameras. Unfortunately the photographers loved me. No escape there. Apart from that I was given crash courses in cheerleading, ballet and baseball. Remember, I was supposed to live the “human experience” to the fullest. Very good coaches and a strenuous program made me quite proficient in all three areas. To be honest I wasn’t a bad baseball player before but I was raised to a completely new level over the summer. And yes, after that I could hit the beach, as long as I stayed out of the sun. No tan lines allowed, boy or girl.

When high school started my “image” was to be girly but not over the top. Soft girl clothes, short shorts but no skirts for the time being. My girlishness did not go unnoticed. Especially after I outclassed all the girls in cheerleading tryouts. I was put directly in the senior team. No one appeared to care that I was equally good in baseball tryouts. Perhaps because I was only put in the JV team. Coach NEVER allowed a freshman on the senior team. And besides I got the feeling that he felt uncomfortable around me. The upside of that was that there wouldn’t be any scheduling clashes. JV cheerleader cheer for JV teams and the senior cheerleaders for senior teams.

Did I mention that I was the first boy cheerleader ever in the school? That had two consequences. First there was no male cheerleader uniform. That was rectified but it took some weeks to get that so our first performance I did in a short skirt. At practice I wore the same as the girls: tank top and very short shorts. So what? I was known as a girly boy even if I eventually got a boy uniform.

The other consequence was that I appeared on the bullies’ radar as a very big blip. Not good, not good at all. That is until Billy Mazasis entered the stage. Billy was a junior and the new senior football nose guard. Very massive. Very nice. Also known for liking girly boys. His last girlyfriend had moved away over the summer.

“Hello Peter. Looking good in those lavender shorts”

At least he didn’t comment on the (lack of) length of said shorts. Ok, I admit, they were “cheeky”.

“You intrigue me” he continued “I think I know more about girly boys than most people and you don’t come across in the right way.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are obviously not transgender. You never claimed that and you don’t act it. You are not a crossdresser. You claim to be a girly boy but the vibes are all wrong. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about. I have a decent proposal for you. I may be wrong and in that case I want to be your boyfriend. For whatever reason you are REALLY cute and fun. The problem is that I suspect that all this is an act. I have no idea why you are doing it and I have no wish to know. Still, in that case you’ll REALLY need a friend like me. No strings attached. As I said I like you and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

That is how I acquired a “boyfriend”. Or rather, the entire school assumed that we were a couple. What could be more natural than a football player dating a cheerleader? In fact we became good friends (without benefits).

In ballet I was all male. If you count as male that the opaque tights I wore over my male thong leotard were lavender. I liked ballet. As a matter of fact as the weeks went by I started to appreciate this “living the human experience to the full”. Not that I’d have liked to have more control myself over myself.

Still, for a long time I lived in fear of being caught out as Girleeboy. Oh, I knew very well that that would inevitably come. If not before then the agency deemed it commercially desirable. Still, I cringed when the Christmas lingerie campaign started. The exposure was incredible. I felt that I couldn’t go anywhere without seeing my smile, my magnificent legs and “pert breasts”. Two things had saved me so far. I never, ever let out my hair in public, only wearing it in a low ponytail. And the makeup artists made my face, if not exactly unrecognizable, at least very different. The image presented was more 16 years old than 14.

That is until that fateful day in the girls’ locker room.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Which brings us back to where I started. A locker room full of cheerleaders with my big secret revealed. Message sent to the agency I asked the girls to keep this secret for a day. Then we went off to the mall. Why? To buy Laura a new bra of course.

The salesgirl in the lingerie shop noticed that a boy was looking around the bras. Not a very manly boy, but still a boy.

“Can I help you find a bra that fits you, sir?” said with a malicious smile. The girls could barely contain their laughter as a picture of me in a bra was prominently displayed behind her back.

“No, thank you. I have all the bras I need” I responded absentmindedly, I was usually allowed to keep the garments I modelled, and then I continued looking for a suitable bra for Luara. To be honest my expertise was not all by experience. I had been on shoots where some very busty models had been involved as well and they had told me all about their problems to find the rights bras for them. Armed with that knowledge I picked out three bras for Laura to try. The salesgirl gasped as I followed Luara into the fitting room and she went off to find the manager.

As I had expected the first bra was not the one for Laura. As I was evaluating the second one Laura had put on, the manager politely asked to come in. We let her but without stopping the evaluation. As I checked all important aspects the manager remained silent, just watching. Then we hit a point that disqualified that bra as well. Disregarding me and the manager Laura put on the last one. The one that I had the greatest hope for. After going through all potential problems, lifting and pulling and all that Laura and I agreed that that was the bra for her. She even kissed me on the cheek exclaiming what a difference the new bra made. The manager was pensive.

“I can’t believe it. You are much better than any of my girls. If you weren’t a boy I’d give you a job on the spot”

“Oh, no problem. I already have an after-school job.” For some reason that triggered another bout of suppressed laughter from the girls.

When they heard about this at the agency they decided to film my “coming out” in that shop. We got a go-ahead from the surprised and delighted manager. Using a hidden camera I got back to the shop and made sure to address the sales girl from the day before. This time I had on subtle makeup that made me look a bit more like what I looked on all those billboards and posters.

“Eh, I changed my mind. I do want to buy a bra,” in a very abashed voice.

“Ah, what kind of bra are you looking for. Something sexy for your boyfriend I suppose” said with glee in her voice. Then I pointed to the poster featuring me in a frilly bra.

“Something like that. I wouldn’t dream of wearing anything but a *** bra” Her face was priceless and we got it recorded. It made for a great advert.

As you can guess the revelation caused quite a stir in school. I was relieved that the hiding was over but less happy about the media attention and some of the things the agency made me do. First they made it like Billy and I really were boyfriend-Girleefriend. That was bad enough they also provided me with a girlfriend. I hated that. If I had been Billy’s girleefriend I’d NEVER have had anyone else besides him. He was deserved better than that. Billy only laughed since he wasn’t my boyfriend. On the other hand he enjoyed the appearance of dating a “famous” model. Amazingly he stood by me and supported me in every way. He even told me a secret, he had recognized me already the first day and realized that I’d need every support he could give me. And the offer of him being my boyfriend was still open. Said with a wink.

After New Year things had calmed down a bit. Oh the “abomination” crowd still stirred things up but without any real success. More an annoying itch than anything else. Public opinion was firmly on my side.

I found it quite amusing that several boys in school started to show a more feminine side of themselves. Last semester I was bullied, even if sheltered by Billy. Now I was the pride of the school with hangers-on and copycats. Quite funny really.

I had expected my fame to be a flash in the pan thing but to my surprise, the agency’s delight and my parents grief, I remained a popular model. By my sophomore year things had changed. Not my popularity. Other, important things. First of all, Billy got himself a girlyfriend. A cheerleader at that. Timmy, a senior, had burst out of the closet and embraced being girly and gay. He must have spent the entire summer practicing cheerleading since he was a shoo-in at tryouts. He was just the type for Billy. When I saw Timmy at cheer practice the morning after his and Billy’s first date I saw a boy that couldn’t look more happy. That despite the problem he had moving and especially sitting down. Hm, maybe I missed out on something there?

On the other hand I had got me a real girlfriend. Philippa, one of the most beautiful girls in school. A girl I’d never ever even would have dreamt of dating before. I was happy.

Oh, there was one more thing. I had launched a brand of my own – Girleeboy, tomboyish/slightly feminine clothes for boys. To be honest, while we targeted the marketing to boys the real clientele was girls attracted by the boy cachet. Still, more boys actually bought the clothes than we expected. Oh, the number of boys in my school wearing the stuff was not that unexpected but that was to some extent repeated in many, many other schools. Even the short skirts that I personally thought was pushing things a bit too far. Especially as I was expected to wear my own brand attire. And ever more surprising – the lingerie (way too far from “slightly feminine”). “My girlfriend bought me this bra, matching hers” Said by a smiling teenage boy in one of the ads. Weird. But profitable, very profitable.

My sophomore year passed quite pleasantly. The haters remained a small irritant. It was the people that liked me that was the only real problem. Some people liked me far too much. I don’t mean the usual fans. The problem was the creepy people that “loved” me. How bad it was didn’t become obvious until I was kidnapped. I will not go into what they had planned to do to and with me. I still have nightmares about that. Fortunately I was rescued within hours of the abduction. What really hurt me was that Philippa was involved. I my first true love – from my side that is.

That made me reconsider many things. After thinking long and hard I decided to remain a model. To be honest I had come to love that strange life, believe it or not. However, I could not remain in my old school. After Philippa’s betrayal and Billy graduating I didn’t want to either. I had to “disappear”.

Some months later. A public school (that is, private boarding school) in England specializing in providing high quality education to the sons of the rich and powerful in a secure environment. A new student opens the door to the room he is to share with a boy called John.

The boy is met by a screech from the nearly naked roommate in the bathroom. The bathroom door being wide open. The indignant roommate exclaims, while trying to cover up

“What are you doing here? I’m to have this room for myself. If you have been told anything else there has been a mistake.”

The boy smiles. He realizes that the headmaster has made no mistake. This is all very well planned. The boy had recognized “John” as soon as he had heard the screech. The very distinct screech of a star that recently had burst onto the music scene. Called “The Doberman” the persona is extremely loud, macho, obnoxious and anti-establishment. Given the name it was rather funny, for someone else, how The Doberman had been hounded by media. There was even hints of a dark secret that could destroy the career. No wonder “John” had decided to go undercover. What could be more appropriate than to be sequestered at a high security pris.. eh school in another country. A public school, a boys’ boarding school that is the very epitome of establishment. Since the boy found himself in a similar situation he has no doubts at all that him sharing the room with “John” is very deliberate. As the boy looks at the girl’s chest, the only body part covered by any kind of clothing, the boy unwittingly says the words that are to be the basis for a beautiful friendship

“That bra is all wrong for you”