This happened a few years ago now.
Stuart was just lying there, unable to do anything with his life. I had come into his room on a late night prowl of the hospice made more restless than normal that night due to the news I had received that day. My suspicions had been confirmed, I had inoperable liver, stomach and bowel cancer giving me only a few more months to live.
Not that I could really complain, at 64 years of age I know that I had had a reasonably long and active life. Although I hadn't been in an intimate relationship since my last lover and I parted company twenty-five years ago I had to be grateful for what I'd had. Let's face it, it was a life of sorts at least, unlike some of the patients whose physical welfare I tended as the resident physician and who tonight I looked in on. Most were here only due to the “wonders” of modern medical technology.
Case in point was Stuart here, 19-year-old son of a wealthy industrialist, all but killed in a motorcycle accident on the family estate about a year ago; physically his young body had healed completely, flawlessly you might even say. His brain, however, had never recovered; he had never regained consciousness and brain scans failed to reveal any activity. In a less advanced society he would have died and been laid to rest after the accident. But his parents had denied him this natural process, refusing to accept the medical facts and well able to afford 24 x 7 intensive care for what was basically only the shell of the vivacious and high-spirited man-boy that I had also known, as private physician to the family. His mother regularly spent long hours by his bedside trying to revive him with her conversation and massaging his surprisingly still very fit body; there were hardly any signs of wasting away, a rare situation that gave her hope. But there was never any response and it was probably a matter of time before they finally accepted the inevitable and let him go.
I looked ruefully at Stuart, his chest rising and falling rhythmically but somehow mechanically; in the dim light I could see the heart stimulating pad that was taped to his firm chest. A respirator sat beside the bed but it was not expected to ever be used. During my tenure at the hospice I had grown to accept the tragic waste of patients like this as part of life's cruel irony. In the soft glow of the machines that were keeping his body alive and on that day of all days the irony of the empty shell of such a beautiful youth lying here for want of an active brain resounded heavily in my mind. Irony, because for want of just such a healthy body my brain would soon be silent like his.
Many thoughts had gone through my head that day but I don't quite know what prompted me to decide to try out such a crazy idea. For some years to relieve the boredom of my normal work I had experimented with brain wave patterning, always with laboratory animals of course but ultimately as a possible means of cancelling out criminal and antisocial behaviour in humans too. I was not unaware of the ethical dilemma of this concept but was not really expecting any major breakthroughs to need to worry about those realities now, if ever. And now it appears that nothing would ever come of it anyway, despite some interesting results among some of the larger mammal subjects I had tried lately. The concept was for the “good” brain wave patterns of one subject to be read into a computer and “mapped” into the other subject's brain, erasing the negative patterns. I had been experimenting with horses recently (the hospice kept a few for the active but terminally ill patients to enjoy) but to get the strength of signal required there had been problems with feedback. The donor subject would get some of the recipient's brainwaves back through the system, usually for example it would respond to the recipient's name (as well as it's own still) and other behavioural anomalies. It was as though there'd been a slight merger of memory. Certainly the recipient benefited from the experience as behavioural patterns immediately took on the donor horse's profile; it even responded to the donor horse's name! There was some evidence of a merger on this side too.
Of course all this experimentation was done on the quiet and was completely unknown to the other staff of the hospice, but I had documented everything I had done on the laptop and the main copies were on my desktop computer at home.
Perhaps it was ill-formed thought processes caused by the reaction to my bad news but also there was a feeling that maybe my experiments could help Stuart here and perhaps other patients like him. There was not also some degree of pride in the thought that my “brain” was somewhat worth saving; having been gay all my life had meant I had not had children to pass any of my characteristics on to. Perhaps I could pass my brainwaves over to Stuart and he would be able to function again? At the same time it would be like I was passing him some of myself, my characteristics so that he could make use of them. I decided there was nothing for either of us to lose, either of our lives would be measured in months now, as things stood.
So that night I went back to my office and got my experimental apparatus, consisting of a laptop computer, a pair of skullcaps, an electrical transformer and some loops of wiring to connect them all together. On my return I plugged in the transformer and connected the skullcaps to it and the laptop in parallel. I booted up the computer and loaded the program and realised I would need to modify the parameters for the different body weights (for the electrical charges) and relative brain masses (for the mapping) of humans compared to horses. I entered the data and the computer quickly calculated the settings it would feed to the rest of the apparatus. I positioned a chair by the bed and placed the laptop next to Stuart's left arm, facing the chair. I then placed the recipient's skullcap on his head and located it carefully, as I had learned the criticality of its correct positioning with the previous experiments. Stuart at least did not move with the unfamiliarity of it, unlike the horses.
The other cap I placed on my own head and, using the mirror across the room over the washbasin in which I could see myself from where I stood next to the bed, positioned it carefully. I sat on the chair and placed my right hand in Stuart's left one and clasped it tightly (this wasn't necessary but I appreciated the feeling of warmth it gave me). With my left hand I clicked the laptop mouse button to initiate the sequence. I remember the feeling of buzzing in my brain rising from almost nothing to what no doubt had caused the horses to react nervously. For them I had resorted to mild sedatives recently but had not even thought of it for myself, having only just decided to do this on the spur of the moment. It was nothing really compared to some of the pain of the cancers I was carrying in my body. The buzzing was getting to be most objectionable and I remember thinking that at least I was confident that Stuart would not be feeling anything. And then I blacked out.
I woke with a jolt, the buzzing in my head was down again to a bare minimum. I went to open my eyes but the lids seemed strangely heavy as they do when you are awakened suddenly from a long deep sleep. My eyes took some time to focus clearly though there was no problem seeing with the light in the room—I could make out the clock on the wall across from me, it read a quarter to 1, about 12 minutes after I had started my “experiment”.
Then it struck me! I was looking at the clock from a different angle from what I should have, sitting on the low patient's chair beside the bed; I was higher than that and my neck was at a reclined angle from which it was a slight strain to focus on the clock. And I could feel a hand in mine but it was my left hand, not my right one!
Noting the stiffness of my body I pushed myself upright with my free hand and realised it was the bed I was on, not the chair! And the hand I was holding was that of an older overweight man who was slumped motionless in that very chair I was sure I had been sitting in only minutes before. And that man was me! I was looking at my own body from afar—was this an out-of-body experience? Slightly panicky, I searched the room and my eyes fell onto the mirror over the washbasin and there was the ultimate shock! Looking back at me was Stuart, animated and sitting up in bed! And I saw the startled look on his face in complete accord with my emotions. I moved my head and Stuart moved his too! I raised my right arm and waved my hand and Stuart raised his arm and waved back at me. How could this be, was this possible, was I inside of Stuart's body?
Just then the fact that I (or was it Stuart?) was still wearing the skullcap caught my attention—perhaps instead of merely transferring brainwaves more than that had gone across; my consciousness in fact! So where had Stuart's consciousness gone? But then he hadn't had any consciousness had he? Is that why my (former) body lay slouched in the chair? As the thought dawned on me I instinctively reached up and removed the skullcap and it's wiring from my.. er.. Stuart's head. How would I explain this, that the former me was now at least comatose possibly dead and I was now alive inside of Stuart's body? It would appear to everyone that I had “stolen” his body! And what a body to steal! Prime of youth 6 foot 2 19 year old with a slim but muscular physique, blue green eyes and sandy coloured hair. And then there was his flawless skin, skin that when he arrived last year had acquired a golden hue from outdoor activities in the summer months but was by now somewhat paler from his time in the hospice. No one would ever understand.
I reached over and saw that my former self was indeed lifeless. Without brain activity and the life-support system that had kept Stuart's body alive all these months it had probably taken no time at all for the body to die, certainly less than the 10 minutes I had been unconscious. There was obviously no going back now. In a strangely horrified reaction to something that I had called “me” for over 60 years I shook free of the hand that still clasped mine.
Perhaps I could hide what had actually happened? My brain ticked over quickly—I would have to remove all traces of the “experiment”. With some effort I reached over and removed the skullcap from what was formerly my head. I wrapped the two of them together and reaching down to the other side of the bed, opened the cupboard door and tossed them inside. The transformer was a standard issue one though there had not been need of one for any of the equipment in Stuart's room. Again with some effort I reached down and switched it off. I picked up the laptop computer from the bed; I could see from its display that it had been coordinating and recording the miraculous process that I had just been through. Somehow I had to save this data but not let it get into anyone else's hands, of course. Fortunately I had previously loaded a rewriteable CD into the machine as I had previously found this to be the easiest and most secure way to transfer data from my experiments to the desktop at home. I quickly typed in the commands to copy the data onto the CD, noting the stiffness in my fingers. I guess when you haven't used your muscles for months, as Stuart hadn't, you can't expect them to be anything but stiff, despite his mother's massages.
My immediate thought was to delete the files from the laptop lest someone discover them but stopped myself; I normally waited till I knew the CD could be read before deleting the files, a habit formed from making an early mistake with saving data. I remembered I could encrypt them so did so and set the password to “Change_Of_Mind”, my “codename” for the experimental work I had been doing. I removed the CD and placed it into an empty CD case that I saw was lying on top of the bedside cupboard, next to the portable CD player with which I had seen Stuart's mother play his favourite music in her efforts to revive him.
Finally I pushed my former body back into the chair and slumped it over to one side (away from me).
I closed down the experiment program and opened my expenses spreadsheet, did a minor change so that it would look like I had been working on it, and launched the screensaver program. I positioned the machine on “my” lap and arranged “my” right hand as though I had been typing but it had fallen loose.
Satisfied that most of the evidence of my experiment was now removed and a plausible view of “my” former body's death was established I lay back for a minute to think about how I could “become Stuart”. I knew the boy well enough, delivering him and being the family physician for all his 19 years, but it was gonna to be hard for them to accept the inevitable differences in our personalities. I decided that perhaps they would believe that it was the result of the months of coma, a form of amnesia, maybe. I, too, would need to remember what it was like to be young and free of worries.
I had been lying there for about 15 minutes and realised one last thing. I was supposed to be comatose and there I would be perfectly normal in the morning when someone would find us. Only one thing to do, knock myself out for some time and then I could “awake”, to everyone's miraculous relief, no doubt! I remembered the tranquillisers that I had been using to give myself a few hours sleep each night, relief from the pain of the cancers. They were in my breast pocket! I reached over and gently removed the strip, took four from it, replaced the rest and then smoothed down the jacket again. From the cupboard I took the glass of water Stuart's mother used to moisten his lips.. er.. my lips with. Swallowing the pills was not easy (even my throat muscles were unused to activity) but after a moment I'd got them all down.
I lay for another 10 minutes or so before I could feel their effect but while I was waiting another thought occurred to me. Once or twice I had arrived to visit Stuart as the hospice's Chief nurse Peter had been finishing sponge bathing Stuart. I had been slightly jealous of the strongly built male nurse's job, really only when it came to Stuart, I admit, but couldn't help wondering at his enthusiasm to take on this particular patient with such personal zeal. My suspicions were confirmed when driving past a gay bar on the other side of town one night I saw Peter coming out of the bar, and he wasn't alone. That was some time back and I had seen him again on two more recent occasions also leaving the bar. But both of the later times he was alone which had surprised me because not only was he well built but he was quite good looking with a white blond mop of hair and possibly Nordic features. I reminded myself that gay life in our town was not necessarily a hectic social whirl (it certainly never had been for me my whole life) and with shift work perhaps Peter did not often meet other available gay men. The second time I saw him come out alone I actually felt real sympathy for the man.
On the last occasion that I had arrived before Peter had quite finished Stuart's sponge batch I discovered that he was gently cleansing Stuart's genitals, and the sight of it was enough to make me even more jealous. From where I stood at the doorway I could see that Stuart's penis and balls were quite large and not only was Peter bathing them meticulously he was obviously enjoying the moment too, from the sizeable bulge I could see in his white uniform trousers. I momentarily wondered had Stuart gotten an erection then, as a response to the warm soapy water, whether Peter would have “helped him out” if he had thought he was not likely to be disturbed. The thought had sustained me for a number of nights in my own bed, too.
I raised my “new” hand and looked at it; it was a reasonable size for a man. I then thrust it down under the covers until I located “my” genitals. Sure enough the penis I felt there was a size that surprised me even at such close quarters and my balls were easily larger than my hand could grasp together. I could almost feel an erection coming on (I was starting to get used to feeling things through Stuart's body) but the tranquillisers were kicking in. Instead I contentedly dropped the weighty objects between “my” legs and fell into a heavy sleep in which, I am now convinced, parts of Stuart's life were revealed to me in flashbacks. This would prove to be a common occurrence over the next few months.
I awoke 15 hours later and, sure enough, I was not alone. In fact it was Peter with me! He must have been taken completely by surprise though when the body which he assumed was all but lifeless stirred! He had been leaning over me sponging “my” chest and jumped back in alarm as I moaned (the powerful tranquillisers often give you a short-lived headache on awakening). When I opened my eyes he looked as though he had seen a dead man rise from his grave! Which, I suppose, he had!
I went to speak, to say “Where am I?” but my mouth was dry. The words were not a complete fabrication either; despite my recollection of the events of the night before I was feeling groggy and unsure that I hadn't dreamt everything.
Peter's eyes were enlarged but they filled with tears and he recovered from his shock quickly. He stood up straight and then bent over again and gave me a huge hug (which hurt a bit!). “Stuart! You're awake! It's unbelievable, man!” he said enthusiastically.
I wasn't dreaming it last night, I thought- he thinks I'm Stuart! I AM Stuart now!
I tried to speak again and he realised my mouth was dry so he reached for the glass of water and held it to my lips. I swallowed and then repeated “Where am I?”. He told me the name of the hospice and then the whole story of how I'd been in the accident and been here for nearly a year and all but given up for dead. The words spilled out from him as though they were water gushing out of a tap. “I have to ring your folks!” he blurted out and hugged me again before rushing out of the room.
“Well that was easy!” I thought.
He returned a few minutes later very excited and announced that my parents would be over in about half an hour and that he'd better finish cleaning me up for them. He smiled gently at that, but I knew that there was more to the smile than he'd have liked me to have read into it.
This time I noticed that he had closed and locked the door, perhaps he had started doing this after I (the old me) had walked in on him that time. He resumed the bed bath, carefully moving the sheets down to the end of the bed as he went. Soon I was totally exposed and I too could look down on this youthful body that I was going to have to get used to. He quickly sponged up and down my legs and then concentrated on my feet, separating each toe and wiping them gently. I have to admit I was enjoying the sensations and then he told me he was going to do my back and for the first time I felt his strong arms lifting me gently onto my side. He wiped the back of my neck, my back and the backs of my leg and then, separating the cheeks of my buttocks, wiped the crack gently but firmly. The slight roughness of the flannel excited the tiny hairs that were there and despite myself I felt aroused. He then lifted me again to place me face up again and I could see his face slightly damp from the effort he was putting into me. His breathing was also slightly deeper than I'd have expected from someone who I guessed was pretty fit.
I looked into his blue eyes and smiled, which he returned gladly. At last he moved to my crotch which was by now tingling with excitement. It took only the touch of his hands on the sensitive skin of my penis as he lifted it to wipe it and it grew in his hands, very quickly doubling in size and hardening with surprising strength. He tried to ignore it and said instinctively “Don't worry 'bout it—it happens all the time with these baths” but put it down to concentrate on my balls which were now pulled up quite tightly against my groin. He gently scrubbed them but that only exacerbated my hard-on which twitched a little as it swayed above my stomach muscles. He seemed a little embarrassed to look at me.
By now I decided I had to show him that I was more than happy with what was happening. As it was closest to his body I slowly but positively moved my right arm towards his crotch and grabbed gently at it; I could feel the bulge that I had noticed that other time quite plainly tenting out his trousers. That was the exact moment when he had chosen to again sponge my now raging penis and the twin actions caused us both to gasp with pleasure. I reached for the zipper of his trousers and pulled it down firmly. His boxer shorts presented no barrier for his hard-on to escape with just a few tugs of my fingers. While not quite my size it was a handful and a half. He cried out in pleasure as I wrapped my fingers around the shaft and squeezed it gently. The flannel slipped out of his fingers and I could feel him caressing my shaft and with only his bare hand. I moved my hand so that I could massage his sizeable balls with the tips of my fingers while still holding his shaft tightly.
He turned his face towards me and I pushed myself up towards it and plunged my tongue deeply into his mouth. Our lips locked and we breathed as one and I could feel our climaxes building. I stared directly into his eyes and I could see him looking back at me too, enjoying our kissing. I increased the pressure on his mouth and pressed my face against his, lessening the amount of air he was able to breathe in through his nose. And then I felt his erection spasm and it jumped in my hand spurting and showering my body (and the bed) and a spray arced across the floor almost to the other side of the room. The feeling of his ejaculating penis in my hand was enough to send me over the top too but though it was amazingly intense only a teaspoon full or so of cum appeared at the head of my penis and dribbled onto my stomach. When I thought about it later I decided it was not surprising since it had been so long between ejaculations for Stuart!
“I don't believe we did that!” he said earnestly.
“That was Great, man!” I said as soon as my breathing returned to normal.
“I'm sorry 'bout that Stuart—I shouldn't have done that with you” he replied earnestly.
I could see he was feeling nervous so I wanted to ensure that he understood that I was not upset about this turn of events at all. I suppose it was his job that was on the line, if you thought about it.
“Why not?” I replied “I really needed that… and I am really glad it was with you!”.
“But you don't even know me” he said quietly.
“Aren't you the guy my Dad sponsored to put through nursing school a few years ago? Peter, isn't it?”
“Yes” he said, “how come you remember that?”
“Well the night you graduated you came for dinner at our house. And I remember you as a particularly tasty dish” I smiled impishly.
“I remember you as a particularly spoilt brat!” he smirked back and I could see he had relaxed.
“Well that's gonna change, trust me!” I replied grinning widely but with my heart in my mouth “If you'll help me? Maybe I'll take you home with me!”
With that, he smiled even more and replied carefully “Well I've been looking after you for a year nearly now, a little while longer can't hurt can it!” Realising the mess he had made all over me and the room he said out loud “Now Mister Stuart, I have to get you cleaned up properly for your folks!”
His hand went down to his now deflated penis and he shook the last drops from it over me, tucked it back into his boxers and zipped up his trousers. Picking up the flannel and rinsing it often he quickly but carefully completed the bed bath and with the flannel wiped the floor across the room of any tell tale signs of our activity.
Patting me dry gently with a soft towel he then pulled up the bedclothes as I told him I could feel my skin tingling slightly from the coolness of the air-conditioning. Or our sex, I wasn't sure which. With that he flicked me gently with the flannel, unlocked the door saying he would be back to change the linen in a minute.
When he reappeared with the linen he lifted me out of the bed and sat me on the chair beside it. He had brought a tshirt and some boxer shorts for me and he helped me get into them before setting to strip and remake the bed quickly. Looking around from the chair I noticed the transformer was still there!
Seeing it there I had to ask. “Is old Doc Myers still here these days?”.
Peter looked at me thoughtfully and replied “He was your doctor here until very very recently. Unfortunately he was very ill this last six months and passed away suddenly just last night. It was probably a blessing, in fact. I'll tell you about it some time.”
I said, “Oh” and tried to look sad but fortunately nobody would expect me to have normal emotions just yet.
When Peter helped me up and half carried half walked me to the bed I gently grabbed his crotch and smiled. “I think I will need a private nurse for a while, I think you should apply for the position”.
He smiled back at me and said, “Stuart, you're still incorrigible! You haven't changed!”
As he walked out of the room, I muttered to myself “Just my mind, Peter. Just my mind!”.
As expected the meeting with my folks was a little bit more difficult.
My mother rushed to hug me and bubbled incessantly, which at least gave me little to have to try to say. She was definitely convinced that all her efforts had not been in vain. And I was happy to let her think that as truly I was not sorry that she had kept Stuart's body in such great condition.
My father was a different kettle of fish though. A little more restrained to say the least, he shook my hand though there was true warmth in it and I could see his eyes were smiling more than his mouth. After my mother had settled down he looked at me seriously and said, “Well, son, not to say that we are not pleased to have you back with us, but you are going to have to think about changing some of your wild and woolly ways. No more of this mad scooting about on motor bikes and reckless living. It's about time you made a career for yourself too. We are not gonna be around forever for you to rely on, as well, you know.”
I replied as seriously as I could “Yes, Dad I realise that things are going to have to be different now. I have been so lucky cheating death this time. I am not in a hurry to go through that again”. And I really meant it but they couldn't know how heartfelt it was.
Dad talked about Doctor Myers; how sad they were that he had not been around to see me alive and well. How he been supportive of them but tried to prepare them for the worst. Dad smiled a little when he said how he'd love to see the expression on his face if the old doctor could see me (Stuart) now! I glanced across to the mirror over the washbasin and saw a trace of a wry smile on my own face and said, “I'm sure he can” as gravely as I could. Mother, who was always fairly religious, looked heavenward and said quietly “God rest his soul”.
We talked about my return to the family home in a few days time and when I suggested that Dad engage Peter to nurse me through at least the first few weeks until I was finally really up and about, he was initially puzzled. Then, realising who I meant, said that if I thought I needed someone surely my mother would be there. So I pointed out that I was still very weak physically and she was probably not strong enough, being a fairly small women. And besides, Peter had minored in physical therapy so he could help me regain full control of my body. He seemed impressed by my thinking and agreed that it made sense. And of course as his only son he could rarely deny me anything. Mother seemed happy enough with it too as she had got to like Peter in the months of visiting Stuart, and she was sure that he had supported her theories on how to revive Stuart (he hadn't really, I later found out, but he had impeccable bedside manner).
So after a couple more days (and more than a few gropes of Peter) I moved back into Stuart's suite of rooms at home. And Peter moved into an adjoining bedroom. After a few days and being convinced (by me) that I was strong enough he started sleeping in my bed, too. They were glorious days for me. Everything I could possibly have wanted I had, generous parents, a fit and getting stronger by the day young body and an attentive lover with which to explore it's possibilities. But not surprisingly as I got fitter and more accustomed to being Stuart (the dreams were still occurring occasionally and in some ways I was grateful) Dad pressed me again to think about doing more with my life. So I made the decision, strangely enough, to go to Med School. This surprised my “new” parents but they were happy enough to go along with it. Stuart had been a good though somewhat lazy student and had the grades to make it possible, and my father had the money to ensure it anyway. In my former life I had regretted the choice I had made as a graduate to go into General Practice which was at my father's insistence. This time I determined that I would follow my dream and specialise in brain surgery and related areas.
So a few months after arriving “home” I left it again. Peter had grown restless and wanted to return to his work at the hospice. I have to say he was probably growing tired of my constant demands, both sexual and otherwise; I was never like that especially before but Stuart had been, so perhaps it was part of his personality coming through. I can't say I didn't enjoy the fruits of it though! I had to go to the best Med School, of course, (no State sponsored internship for me this time!), so that meant moving halfway across the country. I was glad in a way too as my “mother” had been a little too “attentive” over the time since I had “recovered”.
Fairly obviously I breezed through the first year's work, though there was enough new stuff to keep me interested. I had a fair amount of time to party, too, and for the first time in a really long time I felt amazingly free. This large college town had considerable opportunities for me to sexually explore what my new body could achieve; the teaspoonful of cum that afternoon with Peter turned out to be an exceptional situation after all!
During that first year I started an internship at a private hospital near college that specialised in brain injured people. My parents thought it a rather “spooky” choice, considering I had spent so much time in one as a patient, but I convinced them that, of course, it was the ideal place to learn about my chosen specialised area. During that first year I started an internship at a private hospital near college that specialised in brain injured people. My parents thought it a rather “spooky” choice, considering I had spent so much time in one as a patient, but I convinced them that, of course, it was the ideal place to learn about my chosen specialised area.
Despite having a wonderful life I started thinking about the hobby I had been so involved in before and had led me to this second chance of life. The CD on which I had saved my data had proved to be useable, I found, but at the sale of Dr. Myers' effects I bought his desktop PC (and some other personal items), telling my folks I would donate it to a charity. Which I did, but not until after I had transferred all the previous experimental data and program onto my own much more powerful computer, as well. I analysed the data from that fateful night and discovered that the power phase had been excessive and that was likely the reason the “transfer” took place. I had no real opportunity to test out the theory though on animals or humans and I certainly was not in a hurry to “lose” being Stuart! I had started to forget what it had been like to be Alfred Myers MD. But then in the third year of my internship a patient arrived that ultimately gave me cause to think about the experiments actually being put to use again.
Doug was a medium heavyweight boxer with the college sports team and hailed from my home town where his prowess in the ring had not gone unnoticed by the local press. And our families knew each other a little, Stuart had been to their house once or twice with his mother when he was younger (she reminded me). Though Doug was not particularly bright (he was on an athletics scholarship arranged by the people of our town) at college we had become close friends and at one stage shared a room, not to mention a number of private sexual adventures together as well, though no real relationship developed. He had the most amazingly fit body I had ever seen (standing out distinctly in the incredibly wide sphere of sexual partners I had become accustomed to, I admit) and was able to show me sexual positions I could only ever dream of getting into. He was a complete believer in yoga and I took it up a little myself but never achieved the ability to suck myself off as he could. He also seemed to get an immense natural high from working out in the gym—all those endorphins he would say, smirking at me.
When he came to the hospital he was initially in intensive care, a “friendly” intercollegiate match had left him beaten (that was rare) and bleeding and unconscious. They patched him up pretty well but when it became obvious he would not regain consciousness straightaway (if at all) they sent him over to our area.
Again I had the experience of visiting someone I knew well, sad at losing a close buddy but at the same time some of the jealousy that I had felt when I had been Alfred Myers surfaced again. Such a beautiful body, so tragically lost to my sexlife, I selfishly thought.
But fate intervened as it had the time before. My uncle (my father's eldest brother) died and also being wealthy but with no immediate family the money was willed mostly to charity but a considerable legacy came to me and my older two sisters. It took little effort to convince my parents of the wisdom of me having my own place (I had enjoyed sharing a room in the fraternity but it somewhat limited my sexual exploits at times). I only had to point out that I would be there for at least another five years and a house in this town would not make much of a dent into my legacy. And be an investment (my father especially liked my seemingly responsible attitude).
I found a house for sale which was really a bit large but was secluded as it was a little way out of town just off the main road between the college town and the next big city (conveniently, as some of my partying was starting to take me there). The place needed renovation but I could easily afford that for less than a smaller place closer to town would have cost in total. I set to having to done and decide to secretly extend the place, thinking I would put in a room for Doug, whose state was being diagnosed as permanent. At this time I had got myself assigned to be his physical therapist and exercised his body for a couple of hours every day (my mother encouraged me and gave me tips!). I decided he must have been really gone forever as he never once responded in anyway despite me being sure (due to blood samples I took and analysed) that his body was producing the endorphins he had enjoyed so much before. I even adapted some gym equipment so that we could work out body parts without him being moved from the bed. His body remained in excellent condition.
Eventually after four months the renovations were finished (and the new room was fitted out) and I moved in, so the next part of my plan started forming. I told the hospital director that I had arranged for Doug to be transferred back to the hospice where I had been in our home town. And since it was vacation time I would arrange to drive him there in an ambulance. With a confirmatory letter I dummied up (and signed as Dr. A. Myer's, it was amazing how easily my hand duplicated the signature) the accepted it and I made the arrangements to hire the vehicle. Of course, when the night came (I arranged it to be late one night) I drove instead to my place and installed Doug into the new room.
Locking away the ambulance out of sight I proceeded with the next step. I got out the new version of the experimental apparatus I had built.
I nervously placed one of the skullcaps on his head and the other on mine. I had earlier brought a second bed into the room and now lay on top of it. I connected a wire from the PC positioned on a cupboard between the two beds to a heart/lung stimulating pad I placed on my chest. It was exactly like the one attached to Stuart's chest all those years ago which had kept him alive then but it was now going to be computer monitored. Doug had one on his chest too, though his was bigger due to his much larger chest cavity. Again I typed in the weight measurements of our bodies and lay back with one finger on the mouse button. At the last moment I decided to reach across and grab Doug's hand and as I felt its warmth I pressed the button. The long forgotten buzz arose in my head and within a few more seconds I lost consciousness, perhaps never to gain it again?
I did awake and again I felt the feeling that my eyes were heavy. I opened them abruptly to try to stretch the lids and realised that everything I had planned had happened as expected. I could feel a warm hand in mine but it was my left one and not the right one it had been. I was in Doug's body, I knew it! Without even thinking it odd I looked across to my left and saw Stuart's body, which I had lived in for nearly four years, laying peacefully. His chest was moving up and down rhythmically, obviously the computer had sent the correct signal to the stimulator and the body was still alive and functioning similarly to all those years ago back in the hospice.
I let go of his hand and I reached up and removed the skullcap from my head. Jumping heavily to the floor, my feet almost buckled under me and I had to grab the edge of the bed for a few seconds. I shook each foot in turn to stretch the muscles and cautiously applied weight to them. My physical therapy had paid dividends though as my legs were able to support me within a few more seconds and I carefully moved around to between the beds and checked Stuart's body for vital life signs. Everything was as I hoped and I smiled as I removed the skullcap and placed them together. I picked up Stuart's arm again noting on the Rolex that as before the whole process had taken less than fifteen minutes.
I wondered if, since it had taken so little time I should try to reverse the process, to ensure that I could do so, but decided it could wait. I wanted to try out a few things with Doug's body before I swapped back.
I set the PC to writing the results onto another CD and left the room, heading for the small but well equipped gym I had set up in the basement. As I was eager to get there I walked at a faster rate than normal and I could feel the unfamiliar shifts of weight that Doug's body made as it moved but soon got it under my control.
I arrived in the basement and switched the lighting on. Walking to the small refrigerator I opened the door and took out a bottle of the energy drinks that I had stocked it with. Doug's fingers were a little stiff but his big hands soon removed the top and I drank it down in a gulping manner a lot like I'd seen him do. Of course it brought up a big belch and as it echoed around the basement I laughed—this was a little bit of Doug's personality, I thought!
I grabbed another bottle of drink and poured it into a plastic bottle with a straw so that I could drink from it easily. Following the exercise routine I had seen him do at times when we had worked out together before I jumped onto the stationary bike and quickly got it to speed. At the end of five minutes I stopped and hopped off and grabbed my wrist to check my pulse; as I had seen with Doug a number of times his body was so fit that it had risen a little and quickly settled back to an almost alarmingly slow beat. He had a measurably big heart and incredible lung capacity and I quickly learnt to breathe deeply to make the most of it.
Now for some other exercises! I all but ran to each machine most of which I had watched him use and tried to emulate when as Stuart I would accompany him to his gym. By the third set of bench presses (the second machine I had used) I was sure I could feel this wonderful feeling of being high. “Must be these endorphins you're always talking about!” I said out loud to myself! I chuckled and his deep voice echoed a little around the walls.
By the time I had exercised all the normal body parts I was totally “over the moon”. I walked up to the full-length mirrors I had had attached to one corner of the basement and admired “my” body in it. I marvelled that Doug's lineage that included a black grandfather had blessed him with an incredible genetic heritage. The boyish faced young adult male that looked back at me was certainly a prime example of health and vitality; taut coffee coloured skin stretched over superb musculature glistening with the sweat that the exercise had produced. Doing a double bicep pose turned me on immensely. Slightly leaning back with hands on my hips I could see the fabulous abdominal muscles that I had so admired on Doug! They are mine now, I thought!
Meanwhile I caught sight of the python between my legs, sticking out from the legs of the loose shorts I had put on Doug's body a half hour before. It was reacting to my exhibition and no doubt the endorphins were having their effect as well! I had thought I had been “blessed” when I had Stuart's large genitals but Doug's were appropriately proportioned to his massive frame. I pulled off the shorts and sat down on the slightly cool vinyl matting. Doug had been convinced he had inherited his size from his grandpappy's side of the family, as that man had been most sought after by the black women in our town and everyone had been surprised when he'd married a white woman. She always walked bow-legged, Doug would jest, but always with a smile on her face!
Pulling the large organ towards me I bent forward and took it in my mouth as I had seen Doug do a number of times before. The feeling was quite amazing, better than anything I had ever felt before in my sexual escapades. No wonder Doug was so totally into it. Letting it out for a moment I picked up the drink bottle and sucked some liquid into my mouth. Returning my hard-on to my mouth I slipped it in carefully to not spill any drink. The coolness of the liquid combined with it's slight effervescence tingled and tantalised the head of my dick, sending intense pleasure into my brain, and making my lips part slightly. The liquid was somewhat warmer now but a certain amount of it escaped and ran down past the small amount of dark skin bunched up under the head and down the shaft. This was also incredibly pleasurable and my hand started rubbing it into the shaft and using it as lubricant. I soon learnt to release just the right amount to keep it smooth and enjoyable.
Glancing to the mirror the sight of this beautiful man pleasuring himself again, as I had seen numerous times before increased my state of arousal—however, this time I could feel everything that Doug's senses were, not just seeing it from a few feet away, hearing his pleasured moaning and smelling his warm musky sexual scent. I rarely touched him in the old days when he was so obviously not requiring anyone else's intervention but this time I could feel his legs, crossed together under him, push into his hard buttocks in order to stretch the feeling right thru every part of his body. With his free hand I tickled the incredibly sensitive area just below his ball bag, the latter pulled close to his body and tracing the line that curved around to between his arsecheeks. As the tip of the forefinger reached the opening of his arse, I released the grip of the other hand on the shaft of the hard dick and grabbed the bottle and squirted some on to the hand under my body. The liquid flowed down onto my fingers and my arsehole which was quivering with expectation immediately opened to allow two fingers to enter.
With my other hand again stroking the shaft of my dick again, my tongue circling the head, the intense pleasure emanating from my arse and areas nearby as my hand plunged up and down along the underside of my balls and groin, my body rocked a little on my legs. Again looking up seeing myself in the mirrors was just too much. The head of my dick pulsed in my mouth and my balls pulled even closer to my body and I could feel them releasing their load into my shaft and it travelling upwards until the taste in my mouth was changed to one of sweet luscious cum and my lips parted automatically so it ran down the outsides of my dick as well! My arse area exploded with sensation and my hand rubbing was equally contributing to the best whole-of-body orgasm I think I could remember for a long time. I held myself tightly as it gradually subsided and I grabbed the shorts to wipe down the shaft of my dick where the cum had adhered and playfully thought to myself that I regretted I couldn't get more of it into my mouth as I then could have cleaned it with my tongue!
Jumping to my feet and grabbing the bottle I emptied the rest of it in one go and tossed the shorts over my arm and walked upstairs and out of the room again to the nearby bathroom. During the following shower the feeling of massaging my body with the soap was close to having me full hard again but I decided I had to control myself this time. Drying myself with a large fluffy towel I grabbed a new pair of shorts and put them on and walked back to the room where Stuart s body was, of course, still lying.
“Time to swap back”, I said out loud to myself “If I can..”, though I secretly wouldn't have minded having use of Doug's body fulltime if I had to! But I knew that that would make things very complicated (as Stuart I had considerable resources whereas Doug was all but at the mercy of the state) and already playing through my mind were all the things I as Stuart would have to do tomorrow so that I could keep Doug's body here; mostly these were the arrangements that I had made to cover the story of me taking him back to our hometown, these needed to be cancelled discreetly. Then I would be free to have real fun with being Doug whenever I wanted to! In my mind I could picture the sexual adventures I could have as Doug though of course it would not be locally, the nearby bigger town would have to be “our” playground.
The room was soon buzzing and 15 minutes later I was back as Stuart, as I had expected. I glanced at my watch and saw it was really quite late in the night and though Stuart's body was quite rested the amazing orgasm had refreshed my mind. I went upstairs to my own bedroom, cleaned my teeth and conscious effort to relax my mind I went to sleep.
The next morning I was awoken by the phone ringing. It was my mother calling long distance as she did regularly enough. This time her normally continuous chatter grew sad at one point and I realised she was talking about Doug's own mother who was quite old and very ill. Mom said that she was not expected to live much longer and was in the hospice that I had worked in and where I had “become” Stuart. My mother talked on at some length how tragic it was that both Doug and his mother, the last two of their family, should “go” so close to each other, that Doug had had no children (and by the way when was I going to make her a grandmother?). I reminded her that Doug could still in theory father children (he'd once told me that despite enjoying our fun times he thought that he would become exclusively heterosexual one day) but it was lost on my mother.
After the call I got to thinking. Doug's mother was a really nice person, darker skinned than him, she had a welcoming smile and a warm heart, that much I knew. I don't know what made me think of it but something made me decide that maybe Doug should visit her before she died. I now had the means to make that possible! I could return home in his body and visit his mother on her deathbed (she knew he was essentially dead, but in her last hours I could convince her it was a miracle or a hallucination). But going there as Doug would take great care as I would have to not be recognised by anyone else as Doug for fear of embarrassing questions being asked. Fortunately Doug had grown more massive physically and had grown his hair longer with a goatee beard in the time he had been away from home (they had not had the money for him to return home more than once in three years). His mother would recognise him more by his voice than anything else, I was sure.
Now that I could think of a proper use of my ability to use Doug's body, I felt better about “keeping” him for myself. But things still needed to be done…