This choice: Your 23 year old cousin, Bonnie. • Go Back...Chapter #4Your cousin Bonnie. by: Wassel   "...Your cousin, Bonnie. I'm so very sorry."
You could feel your chest tighten. Your throat closed.
"Oh god... Bonnie?" you murmured. This explained why you felt so strange, why an "off" feeling seemed to permeate every fiber of your form. "I... I'm feeling lightheaded...." You half collapsed back against the hospital bed.
You looked over to see one of the doctors emptying a syringe into your IV.
"This will help you rest, Tim. Don't worry. Everyone here is going to help you through this." You couldn't quite make out the doctors features. As the two men made their way out of your room, your thoughts swirled about the little tidbit of information they had bestowed upon you.
You were in Bonnie's body. Your cousin was dead. The drugs assisted in keeping you calm, but you weren't feeling the emotions that you thought that you would. You felt selfish, but your primary concern wasn't that Bonnie had died. No, you were upset and mortified at the position you found yourself in.
You hadn't seen your cousin in awhile, so it was hard to say what her life was like these days. However, the memories you did have still plagued you. Bonnie was neither obnoxious nor mean spirited.. What troubled you about her was this: Bonnie was a bimbo. Like most of the women in your family, Bonnie was beautiful, blonde, and well proportioned. Her figure was not unlike that of your mother's (owing to the fact that her mother was your mom's late twin sister), but bore none of the tell tale signs of age or childbearing. However, unlike most of the women in your family, she was unfailingly naive and, for lack of a better word, stupid. Bonnie exhibited every "dumb blonde" stereotype possible. She had always been nice to you, but her vapid way of thinking and the overt sexuality she projected always left you feeling uncomfortable.
Surprisingly, you knew that Bonnie had been attending the local university the last couple of years. Everyone was surprised she even applied, let alone got accepted. Before that, however, her life had been a laundry list issues, owing in large part to her boy-crazy nature. It always seemed like she was falling prey to some bad guy she believed had a heart of gold.
As your consciousness began to drift, you tried to focus on the fact that Bonnie's problems were not your problems. At least I am alive...
After a couple of weeks worth of tests, poking and prodding away at you, the doctors finally determined that you were ready to go home. With Bonnie's mother dead and her father not being in the picture, there was no reason for pretense in your returning home with your immediate family. Though the sterility of the hospital was boring, you found yourself reluctant to leave it. As your family and the doctors had explained painstakingly, the secrecy and unsanctioned nature of the procedure you underwent had a high price tag, albeit one that wasn't measured in dollars. Tim Connors had been declared legally dead. Bonnie Smith was alive and well. With your identity gone, you would need to accept and replace your cousin. Leaving your hospital room sanctuary equated to leaving Tim Connors behind, at least in the public eye.
While you grieved for the loss of your life as you knew it, your mother was particularly entertained by the gain of a "daughter." In preparation for your departure, she had been relentless in training you in the ways of being a woman. Much to her chagrin, very little beyond the basics stuck with you. Having had to consider the pendulous weight your new breasts placed on your back, you wore a bra out of necessity. At your mother's insistence, panties become part of your wardrobe as well.
Thankfully, your father kept her from turning you into a life sized Barbie doll. If your mother had her way, it would be as if Tim had never existed. Your father tried to coach you in how to deal with her, informing you that this was likely the way she was dealing with your "death."
Finally, it was time to leave...
"Mom! I'm not wearing a damn dress and that's final!"
"Well, Tim, I didn't bring you anything else to wear. So unless you want to walk through the hospital naked, I suggest you put it on!" your mother shouted back at you. You fumed. The yellow summer dress hung and on the hanger on the back of the bathroom door. You grunted.
"Alright. I'll wear it, but you really need to stop forcing this shit on me, Mom," you chided.
"Young ladies don't swear, Tim," she replied. "Honey, I'm just trying to prepare you for what the world will expect of 'Bonnie.' Girls like Bonnie don't wear vintage t-shirts and cargo shorts all summer. You've got to remember, you're in college now, too."
"Don't remind me..." you grumbled, snatching the garment off the hangar.
Taking over Bonnie's life meant no more high school. She was a senior in college. If Bonnie can do it, there's no reason why I shouldn't be able to... you thought. Thankfully I've still got most of summer left to figure this all out.
You allowed yourself to look in the mirror. Ordinarily, you'd be thrilled to have such a beautiful woman looking your way. However, it was Bonnie. It was you. Full lips, a well shaped nose, and bright blue eyes formed the gorgeous face you now wore. It was framed by long blonde hair that cascaded half way down your back that your mother had spent 20 minutes brushing this morning.
Bonnie had a long, swan like neck, leading down to narrow shoulders. In fact, everything about her upper body was slight, save for her breasts. 32DDD according the bra you wore. They were large and appeared only larger thanks to your lithe build. Bonnie's waist was the definition of waspish. Even Allison Lowry, the hottest girl at your school, didn't even come close.
Comparatively, your hips were wide and perfectly curved. Not nearly as wide as your mother's, she didn't hesitate to tease you about how you had the family's "childbearing hips," a notion which horrified you. Every day, she tried to teach you to walk with your hips. It felt terribly awkward. Unfortunately, walking in general had become an uncomfortable activity. Between the hips and breasts, saying nothing of the large posterior you now sported, walking now provided a host of strange bouncing, swaying, and jiggling sensations that you loathed.
Finally, though you hated to admit it, you did have a great pair of legs. Your thighs were thick and shapely, tapering down to defined, muscular calves. You sighed. I guess this is me now...
It had taken weeks to bring yourself to look in the mirror. Even now, seeing someone else's reflection, even though it was a familiar face, left you feeling disconcerted.
Swallowing your bitterness, you pulled the sundress over your head and into place. The cloth clung tightly to your chest and waist, but flowed freely over your hips. You opened the door and stepped back into the room.
Your mother squealed in delight. "You look simply beautiful, Tim!"
"I feel girly. I just want to go home."
"Bonnie was a girly girl. For the time being, that makes you a girly girl, too," she said matter-of-factly.
You fumed. "Why can't you just let me be upset about this? Do you have any idea how terrifying this is for me? Despite the evidence, I'm NOT a girl. Do I need to get Dad in here to remind you?"
"Tim, we don't have the luxury of time," she said. Her voice was flat, but her eyes were sympathetic.
"What do you mean? Summer is barely half over..."
Your mother grasped your hand and led you over to a pair of chairs sitting against the wall. "Honey, that's how much time you have until school starts. Your father and I have been trying to handle Bonnie's affairs. There's a lot you are unaware of. Bonnie has a job. Bonnie's in a sorority. She has friends and a boyfriend who have been asking after her... you."
"Did you say boyfriend?" You were panic stricken. Sure you could fake it through Bonnie's classes, but there was no way you were going to be some random dude's girlfriend. "Um, does he know about my... uh... Bonnie's 'condition'?"
Your mother frowned. "No... He wouldn't sign the agreement, so we didn't tell him. He just thinks that Bonnie had a head injury and a little amnesia." She shook her head. "I don't understand why you are worried about whether or not he knows. Randall signed that silly agreement weeks ago and you won't let him anywhere near you."
"I don't want to talk about it, Mom," you said, tersely.
"I just don't get it, Tim. Randall is the only one of your friends that bothered coming around at all. That boy has been your best friend since before you can remember. It is terrible that you are doing this to him. He knows what happened. I can't believe with all your kicking and screaming about having to be Bonnie that you would leave Randall behind like that."
Her words cut into you. It wasn't that you didn't want to see Randall. You wanted to see him more than anything. You just couldn't bare that thought of him seeing you like this. You couldn't bare the thought that he would treat you differently. Even your family, in their effort to be normal, had started to treat you differently. Randall had never seen Bonnie before, but after all the fantasizing you'd done together, you knew that Bonnie looked like she tumbled out of Randall's wet dreams. Maybe you would call him or message him once you got home.
"At any rate, Tim, it's time to go," she said.
"Did you bring me any shoes?" you asked. Your mom nodded to the pair soft blue heels on the floor. "There aren't any other shoes here, are there?"
"Nope."
Hesitantly, you slipped your feet into the pumps. Strangely, they actually felt comfortable.
"So what now?"
"Up to you, Tim. We can..."
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