Cousin Amy 21

Chapter 21: Breaking Free

'How on Earth has it come to this?' Scott wondered as he sat down, causing the hem of his short dress to ride perilously high up his pantyhosed thighs. Attempting to maintain some semblance of modesty, he crossed his legs, which only increased the tightness and discomfort inside his silky black panties. Exhausted from the emotional toll of the funeral the previous day and the ensuing reception where drinks flowed more freely than tears, his gaze shifted nervously toward Mr Peterson, the Brooks family attorney.

In this unrecognizable form - with his body drastically altered, his face artificially stiffened with fillers and Botox, and his hair now long, blonde, and cascading over his shoulders - it was finally time to hear the conclusion of this surreal adventure. It was the reading of Grandma Brooks' will.

One by one, family members had been summoned into a stately room within the Brooks estate to discover their inheritances. The anticipation was excruciating for Scott, not merely physically, with his battle-hardened feet angled steeply inside stilt-like heels, but mentally, as he wrestled with the enormity of potentially gaining millions of pounds. When Jessica had first suggested the audacious plan, it had seemed not only absurd but impossible. The journey had been anything but smooth, with his stunning transformation into his cousin more extreme than he could have ever imagined. But now, here he was, mere minutes away from the end.

"Well, Miss Brooks," Mr Peterson began, his voice breaking through Scott's reverie. "I'm happy to inform you that the investigation into your grandmother's death has been concluded, with the police finding no signs of foul play. Therefore, we can finally proceed with your inheritance." The attorney's smile was reassuring, even if it couldn't completely ease Scott's nerves.

"That's wonderful news, Mr Peterson," Scott managed to say, his voice quivering as he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Last time we spoke, you said she had left me... £5 million," he added, the almost words catching in his throat as he nervously played with a strand of his blonde hair with one long-nailed hand while gripping his nylon-clad knee with the other.

(See image 42)

"Yes. That's correct," Mr Peterson confirmed with a nod. "Your grandmother cared for you deeply, Amy, and wanted to make sure you were taken care of. I have a message here from her. Would you like to hear it?"

Scott nodded slowly, overwhelmed by a cocktail of emotions. "Yes," he whispered, a pang of guilt washing over him for taking an experience meant for the real Amy away from her. However, the allure of the money was too great, and he was too deep into his charade to back out now.

Mr Peterson cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses as he began to read. “To my dearest granddaughter,” he started, his voice steady and formal. “We haven’t always seen eye to eye, but know that I love you deeply. Some of the happiest times of my life were spent with you as a young girl, watching you grow into the incredible woman you have blossomed into today. That is why I leave you five million pounds, to allow you to live the life you deserve.”

At this juncture, the attorney paused to take a breath, and Scott sat bolt upright in his seat, his mind racing with thoughts of what he would buy first once he was free of his lashes, nails, and hair. Perhaps he’d purchase something undeniably masculine, like a motorbike. He pictured Jessica on the back, clinging to him as they sped away together, a thought that made the smile on his glossily painted lips grow even wider.

“However,” Mr Peterson continued, causing Scott to gasp as his heart plummeted. “Amongst the multitude of wonderful qualities you possess, my love. Maturity is not yet one of them. Therefore, while this grows, the money will be kept in a trust fund until your twenty-fifth birthday. In the meantime, you will receive a monthly allowance of five thousand pounds. I know this is probably not the news you hoped to hear, but I believe you’ll thank me one day. Love always, Granny.”

As Mr Peterson finished reading, he looked up at the feminized man opposite him, who was sitting wide-eyed, his plump lips hanging open aghast. “She always was one rules and stipulations, your grandmother,” he said with a chuckle. “As per her instruction, I’ll be the custodian of your inheritance until you’re of age, three years from now. I’ll email the forms over in the next few days for you to sign. We can then set up a date for your first payment.”

Feeling as if he had just been punched in the gut, Scott rose shakily to his aching feet, his world spinning with disappointment and frustration. “Thank you,” he said, nearly choking on the words, before teetering from the room. He moved quickly past other waiting relatives, ignoring their curious glances while retrieving his coat and purse before tottering straight out the front door.

The early afternoon sunlight felt harsh against Scott's tired eyes, and the air was thick with the weight of his emotions. Feeling as if he was going to throw up, he knew he needed to escape the suffocating constraints of his Amy costume as quickly as possible. He minced towards the yellow Mini Cooper, each click of his ridiculously tall heels on the hard ground fuelling his growing anger. He felt foolish and furious with himself for allowing Jessica to bully him into turning his life upside down. And for what? Nothing!

Delving into the handbag slung over his mesh-covered shoulder, he found the keys and pressed his long-nailed thumb against the key fob, hearing the reassuring sound of the car unlocking. He opened the door and tossed Amy's designer bag and coat into the back seat, ready to climb inside and escape the madness.

“Scott,” a voice called out, sending a shiver down the crossdressed man's spine. He turned slowly and saw Jessica standing behind him, her expression one of eager anticipation. “So,” she began, “how did it go? Are we rich?”

Closing the car door, Scott took a few sharp clicks toward his long-time girlfriend. “No. We’re not rich,” he stated in a voice thick with frustration. “Not unless I want to keep looking like this for the next three years.” Jessica looked confused, so Scott briefly explained what the attorney had told him moments ago. When he finished, Jessica paused, pondering for a moment before speaking. “Three years is a long time, but perhaps…”

Scott cut her off sharply. “No!” he asserted forcefully. “Have you lost your mind, Jess? I’m done. I’m not living another day of this girly hell. This was a crazy idea from the start. And now, It’s over.”

“Over!” Jessica's voice rose, now tinged with anger. “Well, if this is over, so are we.”

Scott scoffed and dramatically rolled his eyes. After everything he had sacrificed, everything he had endured for this woman, this was her reaction. “You know what Jessica! I think, for once, you’ve actually come up with a great idea. I love you, but you're such a selfish bitch.”

The words seemed to trigger Jessica, who flushed red with rage. “Who are you calling a bitch, Barbie. At least I’m not a cheat,” she screamed, her arms flailing. “I saw you yesterday, kissing that man in the graveyard. I knew you were into this girly stuff, but I never thought you were gay.”

"You followed me?" Scott said, shaking his head in frustration. “And FYI, I’m not into this girly stuff. Or Lewis!” he replied angrily, placing his hand on his hips. “Do you know how difficult this has been for me, Jessica? Not only pretending to be a woman, but a whole other person.”

(See image 43)

"Lewis, is it?" Jessica's words were sharp, dripping with venom. "Well, Lewis can have you. You were never man enough for me anyway!"

Scott drew a deep, steadying breath, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. He shook his head, causing his hoop earrings to jangle loudly and his long blonde hair to flutter. "Fuck you, Jessica. We're done!" He declared, his voice firm and resolute. With that, he turned sharply on his stilettos and clambered into the yellow Mini.

The engine roared to life, and a girly tune blared from the radio. Scott slammed the door shut, muffling Jessica's continuing barrage of insults behind the cheerful pop lyrics. Turning to look one last time at the woman he had once planned to spend his life with, he raised his middle finger, the long, French-manicured nail catching the sunlight as he blew her a mocking kiss. Thrusting his platform-heeled foot firmly against the accelerator pedal, he sped away without looking back.

His mind was awash with emotion as he exited the Brooks estate. He had no clue what the future had in store for him, only that he suddenly felt a profound sense of freedom. The heavy burden that had been pressing down on his shoulders had been lifted. He was finally free to shed the shackles of being Amy, free to reclaim his identity as a man and steer his life in whatever direction he chose.