Our TG Caption

“Valeria...” he says after a long period admiring your entranced body. “You’re very popular.”

“I’m...very popular!” You say happily. You love being at the top of the high school food chain, hanging with the A-listers and going to all the best parties and fucking the hottest guys. When you are this sexy your top standing is essentially guaranteed.

“You’re the most popular one in school.”

“I’m the...most, popular?” You ask, confused. You are definitely popular, there’s no doubt about that. But you are at best number four behind your friends Tiffany and Lauren as well as Ion, the most popular guy in school and Lauren’s boyfriend. You never really minded being less popular, mostly because you knew you were never going to lose your place, and they are only more popular because they are the rich kids that throw all the crazy parties. The numbers are all the same.

“You are the most popular one in school. The most.”

“I-I’m the most...most popular one?,” you ask again, though with a bit more heart. To you it was never really a contest, but you could say that you were more popular than those three. You were the hottest one, after all, so that counts for something. A lot of kids in school would call you number one, but you always insist it’s not a contest because you are all friends.

“You are. And being any less is absolutely unacceptable.”

“I am the most popular one,” you repeat quickly. “And being any less...is...um...”

“Completely unacceptable.”

“Completely...completely unacceptable,” you say at last, getting a bit mad. You and everyone else knows for a fact you are far and away more popular than anyone else at school, and you know all of your friends are jealous because you are the hottest and you throw all of the parties and you sleep with any guy you want. You always make sure you stay on top, because being the most popular is, to you, a measure of your worth. You love being a sexy bitch and ruling the school; anyone else taking your place could only happen in their dreams.

“And you are a cheerleader.”

“Ew! I’m NOT a c-cheerleader!” You hiss, reacting wildly. Sure, the cheerleaders were some of the top girls in school, but they were all (to you) so immature and petty and good at nothing besides cheering. You always thought cheerleading was a dumb sport (just like all other sports). You didn’t need to be a cheerleader to be popular, after all.

“But you are a cheerleader.”

“I’m...I’m not! I’m not a cheerlea-”

“But you ARE a CHEERLEADER.”

“I’m a...but I’m not a...” you mumble, your memories getting fuzzy. Didn’t your parents always love going to your games and competitions? Wasn’t it your mom who, as a cheerleader in college, taught you the ropes? Wait! You can’t help but feel like this is wrong. Just a moment ago you could have sworn that it...no...it’s all clear now... you’re a cheerleader. You remember now. Sure, you were never that great, but you did it for so long and everyone knew you cheered football and comp. You were always a base and you were...about average. You did it all through high school not really because you loved it but because it was something to do and it made Mama happy. It wasn’t like it could affect your popularity or anything, which you made sure of; if anything, it gave it a tiny boost.

“You are a cheerleader.”

“I am a cheerleader,” you say succinctly, though not excitedly. You own it, just like you always have, though it never defined you.

“You love being a cheerleader.”

“But I don’t...” you murmur. Sure, you LIKED it and all. It was fun. Certainly better than nothing. But it wasn’t the best thing ever and you were never that good and-

“You love every part of being a cheerleader.”

“I...” you begin, your defenses faltering. “...I love...every p-part of cheer....

“You love every part of being a cheerleader.”

“I love every part of being a cheerleader!” You say excitedly. Ever since your mom taught you when you were little, you loved it like nothing else. Despite never being all that spectacular you couldn’t have had more fun doing it all your life, especially in high school. You were usually a very cold, bitchy person but talking about cheer always put a smile on your face. You made friends for life and it’s a passion of yours. Being popular may be your top priority, but making sure cheer was fun was definitely number two.

“You‘re a cheer captain.”

“I’m a...oh...I’m a cheer captain,” you say proudly. Of course you were. Your were not naturally gifted but your mother made sure you rose to the top. You lived cheer and were the captain on every single squad of your life. That’s part of the reason you became so popular, after all. You were so good at cheer that you accepted an offer to cheer for the local university, which made your mom burst into tears of joy. You were Valeria, the sexy, popular Latina cheer captain.

The man smiles as your new reality takes hold in your mind...