Beep… beep… beep…
Beep… beep… beep…
Tom’s head tried to make sense of the noise. Was it a smoke alarm? The stupid infusion machine finally finishing? Someone’s alarm clock?
Beep… beep… beep…
Fine, awake. Make noise stop. So annoying.
Beep… beep… beep…
Tom heaved his eyes open. God, he had to take a piss. What a bizarre dream.
Bleary-eyed, he craned his head up as the insistence from his crotch asserted itself fully. He looked down only to find he was sporting morning wood. Morning wood? But one of the side effects of chemo is ED, he thought to himself.
“Good morning, Mr. Allen,” said a cheerful voice from off to his left. “Let’s get you up, since you’re finally awake.”
“Hrngh? How long’ve Ah been asleep?” asked Tom.
“About three hours,” said the voice, which finally resolved itself into a small, trim, Filipino man with an ID sticker that read “Ron”. “Don’t you want to see the results?”
“Results of hwut?” replied Tom, clearing his throat again.
“Of the Mind Store procedure, silly. Remember?”
Tom bolted upright in bed and looked over toward Ron. Behind Ron was another hospital bed with a sheet draped fully over the inhabitant.
“Is that… is… is that…”
“You? Yes, that’s your former body. It died as soon as the transfer was complete; there was no willpower to keep it going any longer.”
“So’m Ah…”
“Yes. You’re in the former body of Colton Bradshaw, age 23.”
“Ah’m 23 years old agin?? It worked? But whah’m Ah talkin’ this way?”
“Mr. Bradshaw, apparently, grew up in the South, at least by the accent. Alabama or Mississippi, if I know my accents.”
“But Ah thought he was from Wyomin’!”
“We don’t know a whole lot about him. He didn’t have any family or next of kin come to speak for him. All we had was what we got from his employers.”
“And what kahnda work he do?”
“Mr. Bradshaw was an oil and gas worker for American Fuels.”
“A roughneck? Ah’m a roughneck? But if Ah’m me, whah don’t Ah talk lahk me?”
“Some memories may remain. Some skills may remain. Some personality traits may remain. But if you concentrate on what is Tom Allen rather than what was Colton Bradshaw, those Colton things will fade away. Now let’s get you up so you can take a look at yourself.” Ron stuck out a hand to steady Tom as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
Tom stood up and looked down—way down—at Ron. “Jaysis. How tall’m Ah?”
“Your license says 6’3” but it’s also from when you were 16… I’m 5’5” and you don’t look 6’3” to me. I’m gonna guess 6’4” or 6’5”. We’ll get you measured.”
Tom stared into the mirror. Whoever this young man was, he was quite a specimen. Broad shoulders tapering to a trim waist, strong legs, strong arms, a thick blonde-brown beard, and plenty of chest hair. And between his legs, still insistently poking outward and upward, was an enormous dick, with two good-sized balls underneath.
“Jaysis. Look at me!”
“I… have to say you’re definitely one of the lucky ones. You look kind of like one of my exes,” said Ron.
“Ah do?”
“Yes… except he wasn’t as, uh, fortunate as you in the meat and two veg department.”
Tom smiled. It WAS a pretty impressive tool. Unthinking, he touched it, and it twitched. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron’s attention move instantly to the big rod.
“Looks lahk somebody misses his ex,” said Tom. “Ah need a shower, but this thing ain’t gonna take care of itself.” He grinned at Ron and headed toward a door marked Shower.