Cheers

Stepping out onto the field was as daunting a task as Jon had even encountered before. He'd never been an athlete, he'd never been a performer. Being in front of such a huge crowd made his stomach turn somersaults. But he didn't let his nerves stop him. What he and Kelli were doing was for the greater good, and so he would push through his fear.

There was barely any wind as the pair stepped out of the cool, dark tunnel that opened directly onto the pitch, adding to the overly-reverent sense Jon felt stepping into the view of the thousands of spectators. On his exposed skin, and there was a lot of exposed skin due to his uniform, Jon was warmed by the sun, still high in the sky.

"These are perfect," Kelli had said when Toni handed them their uniforms earlier.

And he wasn't wrong. The short, red and white, pleated skirt, the tiny top that exposed their now thin waists, the knee-high socks and sneakers, all was exactly what they needed for the task ahead of them.

"No underwear?" Jon asked, noticing a complete lack of panties in the pile of clothes.

"Of course not!" Toni replied, "You need to be airy, loose. The last thing you need is to be out on that field and be overly dressed. You'll overheat!"

Obviously Toni knew what he was talking about, because as Jon walked out before the silent crowd, he was more than thankful for the fresh air he felt on his exposed privates. It was soothing, even comforting to feel free to move as he was.

While Jon had previously felt uncomfortable about his roommate Kelli, not wanting to spend time around a crossdresser and blowing his opportunity to enjoy Girl World to its fullest, he was glad that, like Jon, Kelli had opted to dress like a normal man. He looked quite fetching in his matching uniform, especially the way his top looked around his huge chest. Once again Jon was filled with envy at the other man's good fortune to gain such an attractive and masculine asset as huge breasts.

Jon's own look had come together quite easily. While he lacked in breasts, his falsies worked just fine in balancing out his look. Add to that Jon's confidence in applying make-up, his amazing backside, and the fact that his hair styled itself into a tight pony-tail to complete the look. Look out, ladies, he thought, I'm coming for you!

They made their way to the side of the field near the benches of the players. The home team was up by seven, but you would never know it. From the crowd not a sound was heard. No cheers, no claps, not even the holler of someone ordering beer from a vender. The gameplay was intense, but the crowd was utterly disengaged.

It was time to change that.

On the ground were two sets of pom poms, something Jon had never used before, but something he guessed would get the crowd’s attention. And it was attention he wanted. How else was he going to get everyone excited?

Stepping over the pom poms, Jon turned so his backside was facing the onlookers. Then, keeping his knees straight, Jon bent slowly at the waist to collect his new tools. Hands on the ground, he waited a moment, his naked rear end exposed to the viewers.

Then he heard it.

A whistle. Somewhere in the crowd, someone had been shaken from their ennui and had been aroused to make a noise.

It was working.

In his periphery, Jon could see Kelli frozen in similar position, adding a slight wag to his behind, something Jon considered quite innovative.

Another whistle, joined by a third.

The plan might just work!

Jon gave a subtle nod to his roommate, and the pair grabbed their pom poms and stood up, turning around with a bounce, and performed a high kick, arms above their heads.

This was met with a spattering of applause. Better than nothing, but not what the game needed.

Behind them, the players continued to battle over the ball. The home team has just intercepted a pass. First down, something that should have been exciting, but still the crowd was disinterested.

Jon began to jump, his breast forms flopping up and down, which was copied by Kelli.

“Go team go!” He shouted in a high pitched tone to ramp up the crowd.

“Go team go!” Kelli echoed.

Despite the fact that Kelli and Jon had never rehearsed, they seemed to be moving as one, so aligned they were with their goal, with their desired outcome. Jon would wiggle his ass, Kelli would wiggle along. Jon would dance after a good play, Kelli would be right in step. When a player was pulled of the field, Jon would sidle up and grind against his leg, rubbing the front of his pants to cheer him up despite being benched. Kelli would be on the other leg, grinding away.

And the crowd began to wake up, more and more. Applause at plays, cheers at good calls, even boos at bad ones. Soon, thanks to Jon and Kelli’s enthusiasm, fans were chanting, clapping, and having a great time.

Routine after routine, Jon and Kelli performed. It was exhausting work, but what did they expect? The life of an elite athlete was a hard, gruelling grind. Dancing, moving, shouting, all of it expended energy. Not to mention the personal touches they began to put in.

Kelli had realized, it seemed to Jon, that he could help the home team by distracting the referees. Quite often during plays, Kelli would approach an official on the sidelines, pulling their attention through idle chit chat, a personal dance, or even shoving their faces in his cleavage. It was all in good sport, of course, just a little roughhousing between guys.

Jon, following Kelli’s example, had decided to work on the away team. So many were on the bench watching the action. One at a time Jon would climb onto their laps and wiggle and grind, leaving lipstick marks all over their faces. He wanted them disoriented and distracted, and it worked. Their faces, covered in Jon’s marks, looked humiliating. And in their groins, Jon noticed, his grinding had moved their cups, making them protrude out front of their pants in the most uncomfortable way.

By the end of the game, the crowd was ecstatic. Screams, cheers, even the wave! The home team won by a landslide, and Jon and Kelli felt that it was in no small part due to their efforts.

“You sluts were something else out there,” the home team coach said, slapping both Jon and Kelli on the asses.

Jon had heard that football coaches could be a bit rough and rude, but he was glad to see the home team coach had broken that stereotype.

“Thank-you, sir,” they said in unison.

“Now get your little tushies into that locker-room,” the older man continued, “my boys want to celebrate their win.”