The Soccer Player and the Cheerleader

The Beginning

"Are you sure about this?" I held my best friend's cheerleading spanks up. They were orange, one of our school colors; the other colors being green and white.

"Yes, Sea, I'm sure," Ava's honey blonde hair flowed as she turned. "They'll look great on you!"

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My name is Chelsea Barlow. I'm fourteen and I just made the boys varsity soccer team at Copper Falls High School. Yes, the boys team. I'm a boy named Chelsea. My mom insists that it's a traditional boys name, but I can't seem to find anything online that confirms that.

Either way, she named me for my dad, who was from Chelsea area of London in England. My dad moved to the United States and met my mom about sixteen years ago. They fell in love, got married, bought a house, got pregnant with me, then he died in a car crash just before I was born.

Five years later the Turleys moved next door. They had a daughter who was six, Ava. When they first met my family they assumed I was a girl, because of my name and long red hair. They told me it took about two weeks before they realized I was a boy.

Ava and I were inseparable from that moment on. We were in the same class, on the same little league soccer team - at least until they separated the boys and girls - and we told each other everything. I was there to comfort her when her dad died in a horrible work accident that killed seven people. The life insurance payout they received was enough to pay for their house so, thankfully, they could stay.

Now we're here in the middle of September, a month into our first year of high school. Ava's birthday party was tomorrow and she decided that the theme would be a role swap. Each of her girlfriends would bring a friend, then they would swap clothes and be each other for the party. That means I'm going to wear her cheerleading uniform and she'll wear my soccer kit. We decided to try them both on a day early so we could see how we looked while we were alone.

"Come on, Sea. I want to get dressed before dinner," Ava said holding her cheerleading skirt in front of her.

"I'm trying, I can't get these spanks to sit right!"

Well, duh!" She admonished. "They won't fit right over your boxer briefs!"

"What else am I supposed to do?"

"Look under the top," she pointed to her bed. "I gave you everything you'd need."

I lifted the green cheer top and saw a pair of panties. "Nope, no way," I said.

"Oh, please. You've worn my stuff before."

"That was when we were nine, and my swimsuit ripped. The only way we were going to use your pool that day was if I wore your old one!"

She waved the comment off. "Look, they're just plain white cotton panties. Basically what you're wearing now. Besides you're about to put a skirt on, are panties really that big of a deal?"

"I suppose not," I conceded. "But leave while I change."

"Be right back," she winked as she grabbed my soccer bag and headed to the bathroom.

I sighed heavily as I dropped my underwear. "The things I do for this girl."

I started to slide her panties up my leg and noticed that they were much softer than mine. Once they were in place I revisited the spanks and they fit properly this time, no random bunches of cloth everywhere. I stepped into the orange and white pleated skirt and zipped it shut around my waist. I then pulled the green top down, it stopped at the bottom of my rib cage, showing my stomach off to the world. The top looked a little baggy in the chest. Ava didn't have big breasts but they weren't small either.