Chapter 2
"Dr. Speer, please come to the operating room. Dr. Speer," blared the loudspeaker in the hospital. Dr. Speer put down the cup of putrid coffee served by the cafeteria. He thought that half of all the food poisoning cases must originate on this very spot, but was willing to take his chances. He hadn't eaten in almost twelve hours. Being on emergency room duty wasn't his idea of tranquility, and today had been a real bitch.
He got up and went to the third floor operating room. He was surprised to see two patients in the OR. He quickly scrubbed down and was helped into his gown by a nurse.
Before he could ask a single question, Dr. Milano snapped, "Get over here and stop that hemorrhaging, Speer."
Speer had an arterial clamp thwacked into his hand, and he plunged into the destroyed chest to stop the spurt, spurt, spurt bleeding. Covered with blood up to his elbows, he asked Milano, "What's happening here, Jeff? You know you can't save this poor bastard. He's a goner for sure."
Milano simply said, "We have to keep him alive for another couple hours."
They worked in silence except for curt commands to the efficient nurses. Finally, Speer asked, "So give. What's up? Bleeding is temporarily stopped out of his iliac arteries. I'm afraid to tie off his mesentary or renal arteries. Might kill him outright. As it is, he'll merely be dead without all this effort in fifteen minutes."
"We're waiting for Vic Slatten." Jeffry Milano, specialist in neurosurgery, would say no more.
Speer sarcastically remarked, "And what is the great brain surgeon going to do? Perform a miracle? It'll be impossible to initiate anastomosis in the lower body. This bastard will never, not ever, never survive. Got it, doc?"
"Shut up. We are going to try for a miracle. That other body behind you is dead. The brain's dead, that is. No theta waves detectible, and the body is being kept alive by machine. We're going to attempt to perform a brain transplant."
Speer stood up straight and surveyed the incredibly bloody mess in front of him. He whistled a low pitched note and then said, "You could have , told me that at the start. I'll prepare the other body."
The team of doctors worked for fourteen hours removing the brain from Mike Montague's battered body and transplanting it into the physically perfect body of his seventeen-year-old son.
Light against his closed eyelids annoyed him. He opened bleary eyes to an unfocused world. He tried to rub his eyes and clear but he couldn't control his arms. The effort was too much for Mike Montague.
Vague sounds of two doctors talking drifted to his benumbed ears...." looks like a complete success...."...." no rejection noted. That serum of Proctor's seems to work well...."...." should regain consciousness...."
Mike Montague slipped over the edge of consciousness and blacked out again. He lost his grip on his senses with the comforting thought in his head that he had survived.
He was alive.
When Mike came to the second time, he was able to focus his eyes. He was not surprised to see he was in a hospital room. Shadowy memories remained of the previous period of consciousness. He silently rejoiced that he was alive.
He tried to sit up and found that he could not. An effort to raise his arm failed. He could not even feel his legs or wiggle his toes. He moved his eyes and studied the elaborate rig that monitored his body functions.
In a few minutes, Dr. Speer came in. "Well, well, Mr. Montague. I see you have finally decided to join us in this woe-filled world. Please! Don't try to talk.
"Let me explain some of what has happened to you. It might be a shock so I'll tell you what I can, then give you a sedative."
Mike managed to croak out, "I'm alive. Nothing can be that much of a shock!"
Speer smiled, then clapped a firm hand on the prone man's shoulder. "Let me do the talking. But I'm glad to see you are in such good spirits. It might come as a great shock to you that your son s dead, but you are most definitely alive. Remember that. To cut this short, we've put your brains into your son's body. Otherwise, both of you would now be dead."
"Nurse! Fifteen cc's of Valium. We'll talk more, Fred."
Mike didn't know which was the greater shock, being called by his son's name or the painful entry of the needle into his forearm. He slowly slid off into oblivion as the sedative took control of his body away from him.
Mike's next period of awareness was more interesting. Looking at his chart was one of the most beautiful redheads Mike had ever seen. Dressed in the sterile, crisply starched white uniform of a nurse should have made her appear aloof, unreachable. Her basic sexiness still oozed out to the man. The chances were good that if she'd dressed in a burlap bag, she couldn't have hidden her trim figure.
As she came to the side of the bed, Mike got a good look at the white-stocking-clad legs. He felt his heartbeat accelerate. If they were still monitoring his every response, they'd be getting a treat now. The sight of the slender calves, the hint of the shapely, firm, succulent thighs was almost too much for him. Nothing turned him on more than legs, unless maybe it was her pert ass jutting impudently out behind her or the high, compact, conical tits. Or the flaming red hair cascading over her shoulders or the emerald green eyes or the lips, those full, lush lips with the hint of a smile flashing across them.
She was one hell of a knockout. Mike managed to say, in a voice better controlled than his previous conversation with the doctor, "If sexy nurses like you tend all the patients, I see why these rooms cost so damn much."
The hint of a smile blossomed into an ear-to-ear grin that exposed pearly white teeth and sent his pulse rate climbing even more. The poor computer hooked onto him must be blowing fuses and transistors left and right.
"We're not supposed to excite the patients," the redhead coolly said. Her words told Mike one thing, her stance, tone and look dancing in those fabulous green eyes told him a totally different story.
"You excite me just standing there. And what's with this 'we' business? You mean all the nurses look like a sultan's wet dream?"
She smirked a bit more and took his arm, apparently to measure his pulse rate. She managed to hold his arm up while she clinically studied her watch. His hand was so close to one of those impudent boobs that Mike concentrated like he had never done before in his life and literally willed his hand to respond to his mental command.
And it worked!
The hand began to slowly close, clutch at her compact, beckoning mound of flesh that protruded so invitingly. When Mike began to rhythmically, weakly squeeze, she seemed to pay no attention.
The tit flesh under his hand seemed to quiver in anticipation. Mike couldn't tell if it was the nurse eagerly wanting him to fondle and squeeze her starch-encased demiglobe of delight or his weakness. From the sensory feedback of his new body, Mike thought it was the mounting excitement in the frigid-appearing nurse.
She probably had a heart all ablaze in passion for him by now! '
"Damn, but just wait till I get, some control back on this body," Mike thought.
She dropped his feebly groping hand back onto the bed and carefully smoothed the fabric of her uniform. To no one in particular, she said, "We have to be so careful about wrinkles in these hideous outfits."
She looked down at him and smiled that bedazzling smile again and told him, "I'll check in on you later." As she turned to go, she said as if remembering something she had meant to say earlier, "And my name's Wendy." With that, she left, only the sound of crinkling starched fabric left behind.
That and the vague fragrance of woman. Mike took in huge draughts of air in an attempt to get as much of the elusive miasma into his lungs as possible. He had to admit she was quite an inducement to make him gain absolute control over his body. He couldn't even properly fondle a convenient jug when it was placed in his hand! How the mighty had fallen. He drifted back to sleep remembering days-and nights-of active sexuality in his previous life.
Dr. Speer was in the room again, checking his patient's chart. Mike managed to speak with some clarity and confidence, "Hi, doc. When are you going to let me out of here?"
Speer jumped as if someone had jabbed him in the posterior with one of his own needles. His eyes bored into Mike's and studied him, as one would a bug under a microscope, before he answered, "We want to keep you around until you have complete control over your body, and we are sure that there are no ... adverse ... psychological factors."
"You mean when you're sure I'm not a candidate for the rubber room?" The thought disgusted Mike. He was perfectly sane. Could he help it if he couldn't lift a beer stein yet?
"I didn't mean to imply that we thought you were insane. There has to be some trauma, shock, involved in learning that you no longer have your own body. In your case, being put into your own son's body might be an added shock. I must say, however, you appear to be adjusting very well. Can you take a drink of water from that glass?"
Mike turned his head and saw the indicated water glass on the bedside stand. He carefully reached over, gripped the glass, returned it to his mouth and downed the contents in one long gulp.
"Ahhhh! Thanks, doc. I didn't realize I was thirsty until you mentioned it." Mike carefully guided the glass back to the stand. If the doctor only realized how many times Mike had been practicing that very act, as simple as it seemed!
"Hmmm, your recovery of your motor activities is most remarkable. Since there has never before been even an attempted brain transplant, we are all eagerly awaiting your full recovery. I must go, but nurse Collins will look after you."
Mike was surprised and pleased when Wendy came in. She smiled brightly and told him, "I'm your nurse, Wendy. Do you want to fly me anywhere?"
Mike didn't hesitate. "Hell, yes! Fly with me beyond the rainbow in a wild flight of ecstasy. And if you can't do that, how about coming over here so I can show you something?"
She walked over and gasped when Mike's hand flashed out and grabbed her wrist with enough strength that she couldn't have broken away had she tried. But she didn't. She edged closer and moved Mike's hand to the front of her brittle blouse.
Neither said anything as Mike began unbuttoning the large white discs that held Wendy's uniform together. He had considerable trouble coordinating his efforts, but she was most helpful. Soon he had her uniform unbuttoned to her waist and began moving his hand inside her blouse in search of the twin mounds hidden under all that "starch and bleach.
Her tits were trapped in the cloth prison of a white brassiere. Mike managed to fumble around and insert his hand under one of the cups. His trained eye estimated about 36C-not too large, but big enough for a man still recovering from dying!
Wendy quietly said, "Wait a minute." She pulled away and went to the door. Opening it the tiniest amount, she hung a sign out on the door handle.
She returned and sat next to him on the bed. "I put out the 'Do Not Disturb' sign. Since Dr. Speer has made his nightly call, we shouldn't be disturbed by anyone. Privacy for the privileged patient, you know." Again, her radiant smile almost blinded him. He was liking it more and more in this hospital. The staff all seemed so friendly-and willing.
He reached back up her blouse and unfastened her bra. The bra cups slid forward slightly, still encasing her tantalizing breasts. His mouth began to water just thinking of' all that tender flesh waiting to be popped into his mouth. He tried to rise and couldn't.
Since Mohammed couldn't go to the mountain, Mike pulled the twin mountains of tit towards his pursed lips. Wendy didn't resist. She shrugged her shoulders slightly and got the bra up and off her tits.
They looked like twin stop lights glowing red in the fluorescent illumination of the room. Red fingers pointing at Mike. Red meaning stop-except in this case. Now, it very definitely meant GO!
His arms surged with strength, and he pulled her to him with a tug that almost took her breath. His lips closed on one of those ruddy tipped crests, and he began sucking the aroused nipple as if he were a starved infant. His tongue lashed out and collided with the now thoroughly erect pebble of flesh. He sucked as if his life depended on it until he drew the tit tip into his mouth.
He gently gnawed on the resilient nubbin and continued plying his tongue across the very end of the nipple. Wendy moaned lightly and tried to thrust her entire boob into his mouth. It was Mike's policy to only sample one morsel at a time, although the temptation was great to devour that entire marshmallowy mound in one big gulp.
"Oh, Freddie, that's soooo nice! You sure learned a lot at your mother's tittie!" Wendy straightened her shoulders and wiggled down so that Mike could sample all the firm, young jug he wanted.
He was mildly irritated at being called Freddie, but if that was the rule of the game he had to abide by to get a feast like that filling his mouth, he didn't care if she called him Adolf Hitler.
His weakened body began to betray him. He had to abandon the wonderful knocker that was just beginning to turn a nice, aroused, arousing cherry red at the tip. The aureole should have been a fiery red; Wendy should have been gasping and begging for more.
Mike just couldn't keep at it. He almost felt like crying.
"I ... I'm sorry, Wendy. I just don't have the strength yet. But don't leave ... I'll practice ... I'll get back my old vim and vigor and give you the best fucking you've ever had!"
Wendy pulled back and looked down at him with those blazing Brazilian topaz green eyes. "Why, Freddie, for a seventeen year old, you sure come on strong."
Was it possible she didn't know? Could she have not seen the notation that the body mav have been seventeen but the brain was thirty-eight?
"Tell me, Wendy, what's my chart say? About the accident?"
"Nothing to worry about. You had some brain surgery and that took a lot of your voluntary motor control away from you. Nothing else."
So, they hadn't told anyone about his brain transfer. Mike's agile brain considered all the possibilities. No releases had been signed. It might be an illegal operation without all the legal eagle stuff. He was alive, so he couldn't complain, but the fact that Speer and the other doctors had tried to keep it a secret, even from the hospital staff, made for interesting speculation.
He couldn't kick. Hell, that was the problem! He couldn't even move his leg!
Wendy sighed and wistfully told him, "I'll make you keep your promise. Why...." she turned and saw the tenting of the bedsheet covering his loins. "...What can that be?"
She whipped back the sheet and Mike saw his hard-on jutting proud and firm, shaking slightly with ill-repressed desire.
"You sly dog. You weren't tired at all! You just wanted a bit of attention in more fun places!" Wendy grabbed his cock and lay down on the bed, fondling and stroking his erection. A bit of repositioning and she pulled his jerking manhood across the turgid tips of her breasts.
Mike could feel the throb-throb-throb of the blood as it pounded into the nipple. She was really hot for him. And could he deny her for a single instant?
"Go ahead, Wendy, and suck on it. I can feel it."
Green eyes looked up into his and he could read L-U-S-T spelled out clearly in the nurse's gaze. He slowly nodded his head.
Wendy licked her lips, slowly, provocatively, then gripped his pillar of flesh with an almost agonizing power. She slowly brought his cock to her mouth. Her tongue began to flicker in and out like that of a snake.
At first, Mike felt nothing. Then tiny wet spots seemed to grow on his granite erection. The wet spots began to flame and burn as her tongue lingered as she touched it to his cock. The purpled arrowhead was soon completely drenched with her saliva. It began to spread its hood like a cobra, its purpled, turgid, blood-surfeited hood perched high atop the seven-inch-long prod.
Mike felt Wendy's hot breath sensitizing and exciting the delicate flesh of his pole. Then the flames were temporarily quenched as she took his glans into her mouth. She began a slow suction that seemed to draw his length into her wet, dank oral cavern. Her tongue flittered on the underside of his cock, and Mike involuntarily gasped with delight.
The sheer carnal thrill he felt was beginning to boil and churn in his balls. His testicles were roiling around in the rapidly heating semen and sperm held entrapped in the furry little sac dangling at the base of his mighty cock. Mike's control was faulty; he realized that almost instantly. He felt the slow, inexorable push of the fiery come inching along his iron-hard length. With a supreme effort of will, he managed to hold back his ejaculation.
His son's body was not trained in the ways of sex. But how much was mental and how much was physical? Mike was determined that his brain could control any bodily reaction, even to preventing a premature ejaculation.
He concentrated on the erotic feel of her tongue laving his fevered rod, delighted in the wet, rough digit of taste exploring every square millimeter of his flesh hidden behind those ruby red, puckered lips. Her slender needle of searching, probing tongue found the pinprick hole at the end of his shaft. Wendy tried to insinuate her deft little tongue down that impossibly small passage. She knew she could never succeed. So did Mike.
But it gave them both so much pleasure trying!
Her teeth lightly closed on his burgeoning shaft and lightly scored the sides. Tingles volted down his cock and detonated hidden desire in his groin. Again he tried to control himself. This time he was only partially successful. The tiny, crystal clear drop of pre-seminal fluid squirted out the tip of his dick.
A deft, lightning quick swoop of Wendy's tongue lifted that tasty drop and she savored it as one might a fine vintage wine, a superbly prepared steak, a true gourmet item. She renewed her sucking on his cock and burrowed her face far down into his tinder-dry pubic hair.
The feel of her hot breath so near his nuts pulled an involuntary groan from Mike's lips. He was enjoying this immensely. The chick was really great at giving head, and did he ever need some type of sexual release. He could feel tons of his semen hanging heavy in his hairy sac. He hadn't come in several weeks, to judge by the feel of the pressure building up inside him, igniting embers in his belly to full, raging conflagrations.
As Wendy took his cock further and further into her mouth and increased the suction, the fires of lust began to consume Mike's body. His hips started thrusting up to meet her face, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency. As the tempo of his thrusting increased, so did the excruciating, delightfully erotic suction on his pillar of marimeat.
As if a white curtain was pulled across his brain, he became mentally benumbed by the impact of this oral sex act. His body began to respond without his conscious control. His face fucking of the beautiful redheaded nurse reached a fever pitch sooner than it should.
He blasted his balls off into her face, filling her mouth with the long-stored gallons and gallons of his creamy white come. He arched his back in an attempt to reach her stomach with the glans of his cock. Wendy lay there and sucked and sucked and sucked until every pearly drop of his seed was milked from his fleshy fire hose.
Mike looked down at Wendy after his once-proud cock had deflated and hung like a limp worm at his groin. She was smiling lasciviously, her fleeting tongue licking the last of his fiery, white-hot come from her greedy lips.
After she swallowed the last tiny tidbit, she said in a low-pitched, sexy voice, "Just wait till you recover some more! We'll have some really good times together, then!"
With that Circe's promise lingering in his brain, Mike dropped off into a deep, lust-sated sleep.