Words cannot describe what I saw when I looked in the mirror. I saw a face that looked a decade older than it likely was, sunken cheeks, dull blue eyes, cracked discolored lips, blonde hair in a short cut and thinning on top in an obviously unhealthy way, and finally, a scraggly goatee hanging off of my chin with a little bit of patchy scruff on my cheeks otherwise.
When I turned my head, I could clearly see a tattoo of some word on the side of my neck I couldn’t quite make out right then, and another on the front of my neck looking like a fancy crown with a few symbols below it. My ears were relatively normal looking, sticking out from my head only slightly, but the right ear had two thick rings with points at the end hanging from it, while the left ear had only a single of this type of accessory. Turning back to my face, I could see what looked like scabs or older zits here and there, like the skin had been aggressively scratched and picked at.
I closed my eyes tightly and winced in pain, but this was more mental than physical. The man, who I assumed was my doctor, took this as a cue to put the mirror away. I heard him place it at the bedside and heave a deep sigh. I opened my eyes once again and looked down at the rest of my body that stuck out from the out of the covers on my hospital bed. My arms were thin and relatively toned I suppose, or just skinny. Both were covered in a multitude of tattoos of all different types and quality – and both were covered in the same sort of scabs and blemishes I saw on my new face. The doctor saw the look of absolute shock on my face and decided this was the moment to speak up.
“I know you probably have a lot of questions, and we will work through any and all of them you might have. But for now, maybe just let me tell you what exactly happened with the process and, well, who you are now… By the way, I am Doctor Jenkins, but you can call me Jeremy if you like.”
I weakly nodded .
“OK, well just to rip off the Band-Aid…” another deep breath and a sigh, “If you weren’t able to already figure it out, the body we were able to put you into successfully was that of a heavy meth user who overdosed and ended up dying in the ICU here a day after you arrived in critical condition. He was a John Doe, off of the streets, so we have no way of knowing who he is or if he has any family living until we run his prints – assuming he has any sort of criminal record or his prints are otherwise in the national system.” He continued, "We did a few preliminary tests for compatibility, and found he should be a proper candidate for our process - and it turns out, we were right! We would have liked to have asked his next of kin for their blessing, but for you, time was of the essence as you were fading fast. So it might be a bit unethical, but we jumped the gun."
I had already suspected something was up, but not having spent much time with drug addicts, recovering or otherwise, I wasn’t aware of the signs of heavy drug use other than maybe a few TV ads I saw years ago.
“Until we have confirmation of his identity, we can’t really tell you much more than that. We can tell you he appears to be about 25 years old, give or take a few years. But as you can see, the long term effects of his drug use make him appear far older than he is. We have washed and disinfected the clothes he came in with, or we could also provide you a couple of outfits to help out, since this man was taller and much leaner than your previous body.”
I nodded again.
“So first off, can you speak? Let’s try a few simple phrases like ‘Hello’ and ‘How are you?’”
My mouth was dry, very dry, but I gathered as much saliva as I could so I could attempt to speak.
“He… Hell…” I paused and took a swallow, “Hello… How… How are you?” Hearing my new voice was disturbing. It was so young and gruff. Maybe part of that is from non-use for however long this body was “dead”? But it was still night and day to the voice I was used to hearing in my head for decades.
“Good! That’s very good! I’m happy you can speak all right. Was there any pain in speaking?”
“No… It’s OK…” After saying that, I could sense something odd with my tongue. I ran it across my upper teeth and discovered what I assume was some sort of piercing in my tongue as well. It felt like one of those spherical sorts near as I could tell.
“OK good, do you have any residual memories from the body? We don’t expect you will, since we are pretty sure memories are stored in the brain. But we are curious to know, since you are the first successful brain transplant, if you do end up having any of your donor body’s memories.”
I nodded briefly again, “No… I don’t think so. I still remember everything until the car accident.”
Jeremy nodded, “That’s OK, that’s fine. Like I said, if you do experience anything out of the ordinary, please let me know.” He noted a few things down on a pad of paper. “OK, moving on. Can you raise your arms?” I did as instructed, weakly, but I was able to do so. “How about your feet and legs?” I did the same there, seeing blue hospital socks covering my long narrow feet and seeing some more tattoos peeking out from where the legs poked out from the blanket. “Good! This is excellent! This is much faster progress than I anticipated.”
“How… How long has it been?” I asked, still weirded out by my new younger gravelly voice.
“Since the accident?” I nodded, “It’s been 16 days. I honestly expected you wouldn’t even awaken for another month, let alone be able to fully control your donor body. I’ll be honest, it was rough the first few days, we thought for sure we’d lose you all together. It was a lot of hard work and long hours just getting the brain fully integrated to the donor body.” He looked my way again and smiled, “But hey, you survived and you’re doing far better than I could ever expect! It’s really a miracle.”
Me, a 42 year old husband and father of two, with my eldest boy being just a few years younger than I was now physically… This was a miracle? Sigh. I guess it could be worse, I could be dead after all. I could be as dead as the guy who’s body my brain now resided in. This had to be some crazy dream, right? This sounded like pure science fiction – and yet here I was, a second chance at life… in the body of a meth head.
“So, do you have any other questions I might be able to answer?”
“Can I… Can I see my wife? And my boys?” I asked, worrying I might not like the answer.
No, she wasn’t in the car with me thankfully, she had been across town at the time taking my youngest boy to a wrestling meet at Central High. I was more worried she would be repulsed by how I now look. I’d gone from a slightly above average height Hispanic man with a small amount of pudge built up from poor eating and occasional beers with thick wavy brown hair and hazel eyes, having recently had to wear glasses full time due to my failing eye sight. Now I was a mid-20s white blonde haired blue eyed drug addict, tall and skinny looking like a scarecrow, or worse, a zombie, covered all over with wild, tacky, and probably many offensive tattoos and at least pierced ears (if not elsewhere). Would she learn to love me in this new form? Would my boys learn to accept this change?
“Of course you can! Again, we didn’t expect you to exit your coma as soon as you did. But of course we will contact your family right away so they can come visit you. Your wife has been very concerned, and before you ask, she is fully aware of the change. However, she has not yet seen, well, what you look like now. Likewise, your boys are also aware of the change and are fully supportive.”
I smiled, finally some good news! “Thank God!” I said, “I’m very happy to hear that. Yes, please contact them, I really want to see them as soon as I can!”
“Very well, if you have no other questions, how about we get you dressed so we can at least reduce the shock of them seeing you lying in a bed in a hospital gown with tubes coming out of you.” He said with a warm smile.
He unhooked the IV leading into my arm, as well as the breathing tube around my head, and most awkward of all, the catheter. He helped me to sit up on the side of the bed, giving me the first opportunity to take in my new height, as my feet almost reached down to the floor. I looked down at them, still covered in those cheap blue socks the hospital gives you, but it was so weird to see these long thin feet instead of my familiar short thick ones. I shook my head and said “This is so weird…”
Jeremy laughed a friendly laugh at that, “I’m sure it is, I honestly cannot imagine what you are going through right now, which is why I want you to describe as much as you can so I can include it in my notes.”
I nodded and returned his smile. “It’s just, well, everything man. I mean, I’m totally different now. It’s pretty fucked up… Er, sorry, forgive my language.”
He laughed again, “It’s OK man, I get it, take your time. I don’t expect you to be totally fine with this right off the bat. It will take some getting used to for sure, I have no doubt. But I’m here for you as long as you need me to be.”
He pointed over to a table by the bathroom. “There are your clothes, well, your donor body's clothes. The shoes, well, they were pretty ratty and worn out, so they couldn’t really be saved, but we were able to find some donated boots in your size. Those kinda trendy Timberland type boots that I’m sure will look good on you. How about you go take a shower and get yourself cleaned up and hopefully by the time you’re done, your family will be here, or at least on their way?”
“Sounds good, I think that will help a lot.”
“Good, do you need any help making your way to the bathroom. Try to take a few steps, but if you need any help, let me know.”
I stood, ended up looking down on Jeremy from my new height. A man who I am sure was close to my old height. “How’s the weather up there… Sorry I couldn’t resist! In case you’re wondering, you are now 6’5” tall, and about 165lbs. Believe it or not, it is a healthy weight for your height, but just barely.” He shrugged, “Anyway, so long as you don’t end up going back on meth, and since we are fairly certain addiction, like memory, is in the brain – you likely should not, you’ll gradually get back up to a solid weight over time. Likewise, your skin should clear up and heal as well and your hair should thicken.” He nodded solemnly, “Basically, all of the bad stuff you see with your body now will gradually improve over the next weeks and months. There is no reason to expect you won’t ultimately be a healthy young man, just one with a lot of tattoos!”
I looked at him a little shocked, but then found myself laughing as well. I’d never had a tattoo in my life, I was so damn straight laced that the craziest thing about me was I had a leather Harley jacket because one day I was hoping to by a Harley bike when I retired. Now here I was looking like someone I would have avoided in my life before. It was just too weird I could only laugh. I took a few tentative steps toward the bathroom door and found I could maintain my balance just fine, in fact it was the new height that had any disorientating effect on me more than any sort of post-coma grogginess. I picked up the clothes from the table, some older black jeans that looked like they were in decent condition, some blue green plaid boxer shorts, and a white undershirt that looked brand new. There was also a purple T-shirt with a graphic design that looked like graffiti of some sort that appeared like it would be baggy, even on this taller body. There was also a pack of brand new socks under the boots (sized 14… My old shoes were 10.5), and a simple black belt. They all smelled clean, thankfully, and grime free.
“Well looks like you have a good handle on things. There is an emergency nurse call button by the shower if you get into any trouble, but otherwise I’ll leave you to things and make that call. Again, take your time, take some time to relax, and your family will be here before you know it!” I nodded, smiled, and watched Jeremy leave and close the door behind him.
Entering the bathroom, I flicked on the light and saw my face, my new face, in the mirror above the sink once again. I quickly looked away, both ashamed and repulsed at what I saw there. On the rim of the sink, there was an assortment of toiletries like a toothbrush and toothpaste, some deodorant, and a little bottle of mouthwash. No razor or shaving cream, I guess I’ll have to take care of the facial hair later. In the shower I saw a small bottle of shampoo and conditioner, as well as a small bar of soap, like the kind you’d find at a hotel. I saw a clean towel hanging near the shower door and a smaller washcloth.
I turned back to the mirror and slowly removed the hospital gown. I saw a thin chest that, in better health, would probably be very good looking with what currently looked like a shallow six pack and smaller toned pectoral muscles. Like much of the rest of my new body, the chest was also covered in tattoos. There was a crest on one pec, a small paragraph of wording along the side of my stomach on one side, a name of some woman, Julie, and a date, 12-15-2012, written vertically on the other side, a bulldog head on the other pec, and some various skulls, crosses, and other symbols spread around otherwise. Both nipples of my new chest were also pierced with rings similar to the ones I now had in my ears, looked like. I reached up to play with them, never having pierced my body whatsoever, and just the mere touch sent a pleasant if disturbing shiver through my body. I decided to leave those alone for now. I then took a closer look at the neck tattoo and figured out it was a name too, a last name, maybe my new last name? It said Hollinger written in a stylized sort of way.
I looked down at my new arms, running my hands over each of them, feeling the light dusting of hair as well as the scabs and blemishes. I, stupidly, decided to flex my arms, and surprised myself with the small but solid bicep muscles that popped up, as well as the weak but toned triceps muscle on the backside of the new arms. This body was so skinny, I don't think I have been this lean since I was a 7th grader in my previous life. I flexed my fists as well, watching the forearm muscle dance as I did so, and studying the tattoos on the back of my hand and on the fingers. Love was written across the digits of the right hand and Hate on the left, with a rose and a spiderweb on the back of both hands respectively. Once again, I shook my head at the weirdness of this all.
Looking further down, I saw I was now wearing a pair of cheap plain white boxer shorts. The sort you might buy a dozen for a dollar at the Dollar Store. I hooked my new thumbs into the waistband, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath, and let them fall to the floor. I hesitatingly opened one eye and peered downward, not really wanting to look at another man’s penis, even if it was my own now. With my eye squinted, I couldn’t make out much other than a vague penis shape and a fairly sizable bush of pubic hair. I closed both eyes again, “OK, I have to do this at some point, right?” I thought to myself. Another deep breath and I counted to three and opened my eyes and gazed down.
Well, it was a penis, but I expected that much, what I didn’t expect was the foreskin, nor what appeared to be yet another sign of piercing through the head of this new penis when I experimentally moved the foreskin back. It makes sense that it would have been removed, for sanitary reasons – at that moment I laughed inwardly at the thought of putting it back in later. Well, maybe? I mean, in for a penny, in for a pound, right? I was already never going to be able to hide these tattoos, at least not the ones on the neck and hands, and I didn’t see the piercings I did have as all that intrusive. Well, anyway, I’ll figure that out later. Meanwhile, I stared at my new sexual appendage in wonder. I briefly played sports in high school, just baseball, so on rare occasions when I was otherwise in a hurry, I would shower with the other boys. That was the last time I had seen an uncut penis in my life… more than two and a half decades ago… And now, here I was in possession of an uncut dick myself, complete with a blonde bush of pubic hair in serious need of tending to.
I reached down and started to play with the foreskin. I might be embarrassed to admit now, but yes, I even stroked it a little, getting a feel for the heft and girth of it, as well as the odd newness of having an intact foreskin like this. This new tool was decidedly a grower rather than a show-er. In the initial soft state, it looked to be only a few inches long or so, with most of that length made up of the foreskin itself hanging loosely from the end. But as I “pumped” it, it grew easily beyond one to just over one and a half times the length of the regular sized toothbrush (the only unit of measurement I had handy). I’m wasn’t sure exactly how long that was at the time, but I know now it measures just shy of 10 inches at full mast.
At this point, I was too far gone and lost in the lust of the moment and I continued to jerk off, getting closer and closer to my first climax in this new body. While pumping it with my left hand, I reached up with my right and started to play with the nipple rings. That did it! As I shot my first massive load (it significantly covered the floor and some even made it to the mirror as I was facing that way) I looked at myself in the mirror, seeing the stranger looking back at me, his face… MY face… caught in that orgasmic bliss. I stuck out my tongue like a dog, exhausted from the sexual exertion and saw the silver barbell sticking through my tongue. I flicked it around a couple of times, getting used to the idea of it. Definitely strange and different, but I guess it too is a part of who I am now.
Coming down from that sexual high, I realized I needed to clean up and do so quickly. I grabbed the white boxer shorts, using them as a rag, and cleaned as much of the evidence as I could, tossing the soiled boxers in the small garbage can next to the toilet. I took a few deep breaths to steady my nerves and calm down and finally turned on the shower. I took off the cheap hospital socks and found even my feet were covered in tattoos as well, looking like bones of the feet on both of them. It was so weird to see my long thin toes finally, and even more weird that I seemed to fixate on them so much, even reaching down to feel them individually as I waited for the shower to warm up.
By this time, at least five minutes had to have passed since Jeremy left me to myself. It would likely be at least twenty minutes or more before my family would show up. I took a long slow shower, and even jerked my new dick again. I have to admit, the feeling was quite addictive in a way I hadn’t experienced since I was probably a teenager in my old life. Even the second time, I produced a sizable amount of semen. A funny thought crossed my mind right then… If I am not careful, I just might end up getting my wife pregnant with another man’s seed – though I guess we’re all going to have to get used to the idea that this body, and everything about it, now belongs to me.
The idea of my wife, who even before the accident got me firing on all cylinders without trying, had me fully hard once again. I’d been diagnosed with ED and impotency a few years back, so there was no chance we’d be able to have the little girl we both wanted now that the eldest boy was off to college and the youngest would be doing the same in a few years. But maybe with this new body, with this new penis and sex drive, we can finally have that little girl to raise together! That thought brought a warm smile to my face even as my new dick remained hard throbbing from my groin. Then I had another funny thought, my new dick was the one part of my body I could easily see that actually did not have any sort of tattoo on it, the nearest ones being on the thighs and my stomach near my navel. Though my new ass, pale but firmly muscular like a runner or basketball player, was also tattoo free from what I could see in the mirror, thankfully.
With the shower finally done, I dressed in the clothes I had been provided. I could actually see some potential in this new body. As Jeremy said, in due time I could get to a healthy weight, and the blemishes, scabs, and other signs of drug abuse would gradually fade away. I tried to picture this body in a healthier state, and I could see a decently handsome young man, though one covered in tattoos still, in my near future. I gave myself a smile, and despite the terrible damage done to the teeth and gums, I continued to picture that fitter future version of myself, and how that smile would look then.
At that point, I heard a knock on the main door. “Your family is here, if you are ready to see them?” Jeremy asked. “Yes! Definitely! I will be right out!” I said, shocked once again at the younger tone and raspy voice, but I ignored my trepidation, excited to see my wife and kids for the first time since I said good bye to them before heading to my office that fateful day.