Francie is waiting for me when I get back to the Pink House. She is looking at her tablet and smiles as she looks up at me and says, “Congrats, Paige! You can finally start getting active again. It’s too late for the swim team this morning, since they start really early. We’ll get you there in the morning. Cheerleading’s later this afternoon—every day. Ballet starts in about an hour—we have just enough time to get you outfitted. It’s also every day.”

I sigh and say, “I don’t know, Francie. I have never done ANY of this…”

She giggles and says, “No worries, Hon. You will be well-advanced by the time camp is over! Now, come on. We need to get you tights, a leotard, and ballet flats.” She takes my hand and pulls me to the Creativity Center, up the stairs, and to the ‘wardrobe’. She says, “You can borrow some for now. Angi said she would get you some from the funds your…what is he exactly?...gave her.”

I shrug and say, “I guess he’ll eventually be my step-dad. For now, he is ‘Uncle’ Allen…” I make air-quotes around ‘uncle’—my long, glittery-pink fingernails adding extra emphasis.

She nods and pulls out pink tights, a black leotard, and pink ballet flats in my size. I look at them in horror, but mask my emotions. I take them and Francie then leads me to the dressing rooms next to the dance studio. She looks at a roster and then assigns me a locker.

She asks, “Do you think you can get ready by yourself? I need to get ready myself.”

I give her an inquisitive look and ask, “You dance ballet, too?”

She nods and says, “Yep! I will be in the advanced section, but we will be in there together. Now, you just put the tights on first—no panties! Then the leotard—normally, I would say no bra, but… *SHRIEK* Girl! You’re wearing a bra!” She hugs me tightly, “Congrats, Hon! That is an important milestone for any girl! Anyway, no bra under the leotard. These are standard colors for beginners—no skirts or other colors allowed at that stage. You will see that I am dressed a bit differently.”

I rub my ears, still ringing from her shriek and then rub my breasts, wondering what the leotard will feel like without it. Then wonder why I am even wondering that. Francie gives me another hug and hurries off to her locker on the other side of the dressing room.

I slowly undress. I struggle to get the bra off, then I step out of my panties and stand there naked. There is a mirror and I shudder as I see the girl standing there; my ‘junk’ still tucked between my legs. I pull on the tights that look like they are way too small. I quickly find that they are elasticized and fit well enough with some adjusting. I adjust my ‘tuck’ and pick up the leotard. It takes me a bit to figure out how to get into it, but I finally stand there and look in the mirror, again. This time I really shudder—there is no doubt that there is a girl looking back at me.

Francie comes over just as other girls start filtering in to get ready. She smiles at me and says, “Wonderful! Now, the first week will be tough. Madame Pratt is tough—just do as she says and don’t question or complain.”

I put on my flats and follow Francie in to be introduced. She takes me over to a stern-looking woman, who looks to be probably in her fifties. Her hair is in a tight bun high on the back of her head. I shudder.

Francie says, “Madame Pratt, this is Paige. She is complete beginner—maybe Angi talked to you about her?”

Madame Pratt looks me up down with a calculating stare and nods. She says, “Yes, we will get her balance tested—and her posture corrected by the end of the week. Normally, I wouldn’t do this, but I am going to assign you as her partner for the first week. I have too many beginners to give her the attention she needs and you have indicated that you want some teaching experience? In payment, I will give you a private hour later?”

Francie nods excitedly and says, “Oh, yes! Thank you, Madame!”

An hour later, my calves are screaming from getting up and down on my toes. My thighs are rubber from doing ‘plies’. I can do a million squats, but these are at the completely wrong angle… I nearly fall over as I have to stand in the five different positions, especially ‘fifth’—I feel like my knees are going to break. The warm-up stretches killed me; the cool-down ones are no better.

Francie smiles and says, “Not a bad first day, Paige.”

Madame Pratt comes over and says, “Well, Paige. I watched you closely and you did very well for your first day—you have potential. Francine, you did very well, as well. I will make sure you are challenged in our session. Come prepared.”

Francie ushers me out and giggles, “Girl! That was high praise! Madame doesn’t usually compliment—you did perform exceptionally well, though. Don’t worry about showering. Lunch is in a little over an hour and then your cheerleading session starts and you will just get all sweaty again. If you want, you can come swim a round with me to stay limber.”

I nod and say, “That would be nice, I think. I can feel my legs tightening up already.”

Francie says, “Go get your swimsuit and meet me at the lake in fifteen minutes. I quickly strip out of the leotard and tights and neatly put them in my locker—like I see the others in the room do. I get dressed and hurry to my room. I open the drawer and pull out my ‘swimsuit’—the one I know I will be expected to wear for ‘leisure’ swimming. It is a hot-pink two-piece bikini—the one-piece suit is for ‘competition’ swimming.

I put it on, like I had when I had to model it for my roomies. I put on a pair of shorts and t-shirt over it. The shorts are typical “girl’s” short-shorts and still feel weird to me. The t-shirt is short and so my belly-button is showing; which I am told is a GOOD thing… I put on my flip-flops and hurry to the lake. Francie is just arriving, as well.

She pulls waterproof suntan lotion out of her bag and slathers it all over my body and I return the favor and we jump into the water to cool off. After about fifteen minutes of swimming, she coaxes me to some loungers and we lay down on a towel. After about fifteen minutes of chit-chatting she rolls over on her stomach and gestures for me to do the same.

The time goes by quickly; I find that she is really easy to talk to. Before I know it, she is getting her things together and we have to go back for lunch. She says, “You can just leave your bikini on under your clothes like that, for now. They will give you a cheerleading outfit to change into, anyway. Just take some panties with you—there will be a sports bra with the outfit, since you don’t have one yet.”

I eat lunch, for the first time in two weeks without a whole lot of nausea, and think about the morning. I find myself REALLY liking Francie. Several girls sit down at my table and I find myself pulled into a girlie conversation—I am getting better at following along; I am nowhere really ready to add to it, though!

When the hour is up, I trepidatiously go to my room to get some panties. My other three roomies are all lounging on their beds with mischievous looks on their faces. I give them an inquisitive look but hurry to my underwear drawer, since I have to be on the green for practice in forty minutes. I open the drawer and feel my face turn beet-red as I pull out a pair of really lacy THONG panties. The girls all start giggling.

Brenda says, “We have been saving those for when you got your first bra. We noticed a bit ago. Way to go, girl! Now you have REAL panties—like us!”

I sigh and say, “I don’t know… Where are my others?”

Julia says, “We sent them with Angi to be donated to Goodwill. She was a little worried that you’re not ready for thongs, but we convinced her otherwise!”

I groan and say, “I have to go to cheerleading, but we will talk about this when I get back!”

Georgette says, “Cheerleading? Really? Come on then, I’m going there myself!

o~O~o

Georgette takes me to the cheerleading locker room after taking me by wardrobe to get a practice outfit and sports bra. I look at the outfit as we walk to my newly assigned locker and shudder. It is the typical cheerleading outfit: Short-cropped top, ultra-short skirt, shiny nylon stockings, short socks with little pom-poms on the back… Of course, mine is all in pink…

I sigh and take off my shorts and t-shirt and stand in front of my locker, which happens to be right next to Georgette’s, in my bikini. I untie the string at the back of my neck and the skimpy top drops into my hand.

Georgette giggles and says, “Nice start on that tan! We will have to work more on it later, though. I’m sure you can do better!”

I look down and see the distinct beginnings of a tan—evidenced by the white outline of the little triangles and strings against my now darker skin. I groan inwardly—I hadn’t even considered the consequences of a tan line when out swimming. And knowing the three musketeers—plus Francie—it will only get worse now, since I am sure I will be drug out to the lake more and more now that I am cleared to swim.

I untie the bottom and see the same outline of the small triangle and strings. Georgette says, “We’ll get you a thonged-bottom for a nicer tan. Now that you are wearing them anyways, you’ll be used to the feel.”

I groan and pick up the lacy thong panties that I had brought with me and slip them up my legs. The string disappears into my butt-crack and I instinctively reach to pull it out. Georgette play-slaps at my hand and says, “Bad Paige! It BELONGS in there. See?” She turns and I see hers disappearing into her crack just the same as mine. She says, “Soon, you won’t want to wear anything else. You’ll see! Now, hurry up! We need to get out on the green!”

She helps me put on the nylons, since I have never done anything like that before. Then I put on the sports bra and relish the soft feel of the material. I know that Angi says this is normal, but I am worried—I have never really heard of guys having issues like this; but then maybe they are just embarrassed to talk about it? I have heard of man-boobs and think they are supposed to go away if it is not just because you are fat…

I pull on the top and feel my bare midriff. I see Georgette’s is the same—showing off the shiny pink jewel in her belly button. I pull on the short skirt and tie my shoes. I stand up and nearly lose my balance. I say, “Georgette, what’s with these shoes?”

She giggles and says, “They actually have two-inch heels, but are built so you can’t really see it. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it in no time—it gives us killer-calves.”

I groan, “My calves are already killed from ballet!”

We run out onto the green where about fifteen girls are already gathered. Each is in a practice outfit the same color as their house. Other than that, in reality, they are all the same. I notice that I am the only one without a pierced belly button, though—everyone else has a jewel in theirs to match the color of their house.

Georgette is right, it doesn’t take me too long to forget all about the heels on my shoes. I am too worried about doing splits and kicks…and keeping up with the routine. Like with ballet, I find that I have more of a musical bone than I ever knew. The rhythm and moves come fairly easily to me—it is the flexibility that is the biggest problem.

After two hours of practice, I am officially dead. We all go to the locker room to shower. The showers at the Pink House are communal, too, so that is not really that big a deal to me—anymore. At first, I was really shy about it. I quickly find that showering with the cheerleaders is different, though.

Georgette says, “Here, scrub my back, OK? Then I will scrub yours.”

I quickly scrub her back, then she takes the scrubby and does mine. She surprises me, though, when her arms snake around under my arms and she starts massaging my tender nipples. They jump to life and I feel little electric shocks shoot down to my groin. I moan, in spite of myself—it is a moan of pleasure. I want to pull away, but find I can’t. She turns me around and starts nibbling and sucking on them. Within a couple of minutes, I feel this sunburst inside of me. It spreads throughout my body and I think I am going to faint from pleasure.

I look at Georgette and ask, “Wh…wh…what was that?”

Georgette and the other girls giggle. She says, “Welcome to the cheerleaders, Hon. And THAT was an orgasm. By your reaction, I take it, it was your first?” She giggles again.

I nod, still out of breath.

She smiles and says, “Well, you’re one of us now—almost. We will fix the rest later. Right now, we’re all going to lake to swim and work on our tans. But first, we need to get you a better bikini!”

o~O~o

I groan as my alarm goes off at four o’clock in the morning. For whatever reason, the swim team meets really early in the morning.

I get out of bed and pad towards my dresser. I nearly fall, though, when the pain in my calves kicks in—they are REALLY sore! I pull the ‘competition’ swimsuit out of my drawer and limp to the communal shower area to get dressed, since the others are still asleep.

I look at myself in the mirror and grimace at the now darker tan lines—this time with no line on my butt, except up top where the string comes out of my crack. I was surprised that my ‘junk’ would even fit in the tiny scrap of material that it was. I look at it now, hanging down freely and shiver—it looks somehow…tiny…

I also look for signs of body hair. Other than some very light fuzz, there is nothing in site. The same holds true for my face. I haven’t noticed any crack in my voice—or any other sign of puberty, for that matter. I know SOMETHING must be happening, though—that orgasm yesterday is clear proof of that…

I get into the swimsuit and see my nipples standing erect in the chilled air—they look HUGE to me. I shake my head and hurry to get my pre-swim smoothie that Francie told me would be waiting for me at the cafeteria.

The girl handing the smoothies out is miserably cheerful at this early hour. She smiles and wishes me a great day as I go to find a table, still limping. There are several girls sitting at a table—obviously on the swim team gauging by their swimsuits. I sit at another table and sip my smoothie.

A girl comes over and says, “Hi! You must be Paige. We haven’t met, yet. I’m Jenny—I’ll be your partner today. Welcome to the team! Do you have any swimming experience?”

I look at her, mesmerized by the glitzy lavender stud in her nose. It matches the color of her swimsuit, so I know she is from Lavender House—the one for the ‘L’ part of LGBT. I shake my head and say, “No, I’ve never been much of a swimmer—I have always been more into things like football.”

She giggles and says, “Well, we’ll test you out today. I noticed the limp…is that normal?”

I laugh—and it actually turns out to be more of a giggle—and say, “No. The consequence of too much ballet and cheerleading on my first day!”

She giggles again and nods. She says, “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the other girls. Of course, the guys are all still in bed, probably—they are ALWAYS late!”

After being introduced to the eight other girls on the team, we start walking to the indoor Olympic-sized pool. As I am introduced to each girl by Jenny, I notice that each of them has a nose stud the color of their swimsuit—which of course corresponds to their house.

As we are walking, I can’t help but ask, “So…swimming…what does that have to do with being ‘creative’?”

Larissa, a girl in a yellow (the female ‘B’ house) swimsuit, giggles profusely and says, “Well, it started out as synchronized swimming, but that never really took off—it just sort of evolved into plain-Jane swimming. We actually compete against other camps at the end of summer…and we usually get beat…”

Clarissa, the girls’ coach is waiting for us at the pool and quickly gets us started by swimming laps. I am dead after only two—it is going to be a long day…