Metabods: Change of Mind (1)
Time for another favourite story of mine. It’s a bodyswap story written by “Mango Deville” on the Metabods site. I really, really love this story and it’s definitely one of the Top 3 Best Bodyswap Stories of all time! /Verus
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, 23-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 23 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 23 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.
(End of part one)
Source: “Change of mind” by Mango Deville on Metabods.com
