Cousin Amy 15

Chapter 15: The Dancing Queen

Wobbling in the bathroom, Scott gazed into the mirror above the sink, feeling drunker than he had been in a long while. His reflection, a pink-haired bunny girl, felt stranger to look at than he had the vocabulary to articulate. Taking a moment to himself, Scott stretched out his scantily-clad body, which by this point in the evening ached all over. There was an uncomfortable pressure in his crotch area that only intensified when he moved movement, as the bottom of his bunny costume pulled upwards. The tight feeling around his breasts was amplified by the push-up bra built into the costume that squashed his sensitive nipples into the stretchy material. His extended hair felt hot and heavy, tugging at his scalp. However, perhaps worst of all, though, was the shooting pain pulsating up and down the back of his legs, the result of a long day spent teetering around atop ridiculously high heels.

Turning on the tap, Scott washed his hands, yearning to splash water on his face to refresh himself. However, he resisted, knowing it would ruin his perfectly applied makeup. Instead, he took a deep breath, trying to centre his swirling thoughts. Despite living through his worst nightmare, he knew things could be worse. So far, everyone somehow still believed he was Amy, and maintaining that illusion had become his singular focus.

After drying his hands - a task that now took twice as long due to his lengthy nails - Scott returned to the lively kitchen table. "You took your time," Jen remarked as Scott eased his curvy body down next to her. Positioning himself in a distinctly feminine pose, he suppressed a small sigh of relief as he took the weight off his aching feet.

"Miss me?" he shot back, his voice playful as he turned to smile at the blonde-haired woman to his right.

"Always," Jen replied, smiling back warmly. "Especially when we have an empty bottle that needs replacing," she added, her voice teasing.

Scott's eyes drifted to the empty wine bottle at the centre of the table. The thought of standing again so soon filled him with frustration. Glancing to the left of the bottle, his lashes fluttered as they focused on another source of frustration—a charcuterie board brought by Hannah, brimming with an assortment of cheeses and meats. As hungry as he was, Scott could only pick at the selection of food on offer, not wanting to act out of character.

"Thanks, Stace. You're the best," Scott called after her, his tone genuine. "And don't you forget it," Stacy quipped with a grin as she opened the fridge to retrieve a fresh bottle of chilled white wine. Returning to the table, she plopped the bottle in the centre. “I love this,” she announced, stepping back. “It’s been so long since we all got together in costume.”

"I know, right?" Emily called out happily. "Thanks, everyone, for coming tonight, and thanks, Stace, for making these," she said, indicating her costume. "They're amazing."

“No probs. It was fun,” Stacy said as she leaned against a wooden table. “But you should also thank Han. Not only was the theme her idea, but she also went out and bought all the materials for me to sew together.”

Everyone turned to look at Hannah, who was in the kitchen searching for a corkscrew. “Thanks, Han,” everyone said in unison. Scott tried not to frown, now aware of the person responsible for all his pain and suffering that evening.

Hannah glanced over her shoulder, a slight smile playing at the edges of her lips. 'You're welcome!' she called back cheerfully, oblivious to Scott's discomfort. 'I thought it would be fun, just like the old days. Remember that Halloween when we all dressed as the Spice Girls?' she added while giggling.

"Oh my God, yes!" Jen exclaimed. "Amy," she said, turning to Scott. "You looked so adorable as Baby Spice with those pigtails."

"When am I not adorable?" Scott quipped, bringing his shiny pink lips together to form Amy's signature pout. As he held the pose, trying to look cute, his tormented mind longed for the evening to end.

“So adorable that you got us all kicked out of the club that night?” Stacy chimed in, pointing towards Scott.

(See image 30)

“Oh yeah! How could I forget?” Jenny said, tutting playfully. “You blew that Italian guy in the bathroom and got caught by the bouncer. What was his name again?”

Scott froze for a split second, his panic rising. Not only did the thought of his cousin doing such a thing disgust him, but he also had no idea how to answer. Thinking quickly, he replied, "Oh I forget, there were so many guys back then.”

Emily looked puzzled as the room fell silent. "Really? You’ve forgotten about Mario? It wasn’t that long ago, and you talked about him for weeks after that night. I had a crush on his brother, and you promised me a double date, remember?”

As everyone looked over expectantly, Scott, caught in the grip of panic, felt the walls closing in on him. A bead of sweat began dripping down the back of his neck, past the temporary tattoo on his bare shoulder. He thought the jig was up, until suddenly, a memory flashed into his mind. "Luigi, right? He had that awful moustache like the character from the video games," he blurted out, desperately hoping he was recalling something real he had read while browsing through the memories on his cousin’s phone, and not spouting some nonsense his inebriated mind had concocted.

“His name was Luka,” Emily stated with a huff. Thinking he had messed up, Scott began to shake. “But you always called him that, you meanie,” Emily added before bursting into a fit of giggles.

"Right," Scott nervously replied, forcing himself to laugh along with the group, his heart still racing.

"Good times," Emily said, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye. "We were such whorebags back then."

"Back then?" Jenny countered, causing the group to erupt into laughter once more. She raised her glass for a toast. "Here's to making more memories, my sexy little bunnies! And to giving Em the best fucking birthday of her life!"

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Hours later, in the corner of a local nightclub, Scott was operating on autopilot. After countless glasses of wine and enough shots to last him a lifetime, his queasy, feminized frame somehow remained upright atop his stilt-like heels. Swaying their high-heeled feet to the DJ's pumping beats, the rest of the Pink Panthers were faring no better. However, the paralytic state of the group served to Scott's advantage. Too drunk to hold a meaningful conversation, it was now all about dancing while trying to avoid attracting the attention of the hordes of men hovering around their little group. Scott couldn't blame them for trying - who wouldn’t be interested in a group of attractive pink bunny girls? A few men had already attempted to break into their circle, but thankfully, they had been repelled. However, Scott knew it was only a matter of time before one succeeded, especially with Emily already eyeing up a Latino guy with bulging arms.

(See image 31)

When it happened, Scott knew he’d have to play along. Amy was a flirt, and tonight, he was Amy. He had already been hit on at the bar, and crossing the room felt like running a gauntlet of lustful stares and hands grabbing at his peachy backside. He could cope with the dancing, but the thought of some guy trying to kiss him was horrific. Would he be able to kiss another man? Would it look strange if Amy refused? These thoughts swirled through his intoxicated mind as he avoided eye contact, keeping his heavily made-up eyes focused on his numb feet.

By the end of the evening, as he collapsed into a taxi with the other girls, his painful heels clutched in his hands, Scott’s mind buzzed with a mixture of relief and revulsion. Not wanting to think about what he had done that evening, he struggled with his seatbelt, unable to fasten it. He had kissed every girl in the group and made out with two random guys. His lips, still tingling from the foreign sensation, were now smeared with remnants of his once-perfect lipstick.

Sandwiched between Emily and the window, Scott could still feel the touch of rough male hands pinching his expanded backside, pawing at his pantyhosed legs, and brushing against his sensitive nipples. Each touch had sent jolts of discomfort coursing through his feminized body. But he had survived and done it without breaking character.

As the taxi set off into the night, Scott's eyelashes fluttered, catching glimpses of his fishnet-covered legs as they alternated between open and closed. He tried to stay awake, but the rhythmic sway of the two curled tendrils of pink hair swinging in front of his face, and the dull ache in his body created a lullaby he couldn't resist. Each blink grew heavier as he fought the encroaching darkness. The remnants of the night's events replayed in his mind, a dizzying mix of lights, music, and unwanted attention.

Despite his best efforts, the exhaustion from partying like he had never partied before overcame him. The soft hum of the engine, the gentle bumps of the road, and the residual warmth of the alcohol coursing through his veins all conspired against him. Unconsciousness soon took hold, pulling him into a deep, dreamless sleep. As he drifted off, the last thought that flickered through his mind was a hope that tomorrow might bring some semblance of normalcy back to his life as he attempted to repair his shattered life and relationship.