Blackjack
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A Visit From Blackjack free porn video
Hi!
After seeing the bits on cliches in TG fiction on the Fictionmania
Hyperboard, I decided a story was needed that played a bit with them.
Blackjack was created by the late great Osamu Tezuka;all you need to know
about him for the story is included. It's okay to post this on sites that
don't charge readers.
A VISIT FROM BLACKJACK
by Scott K. Jamison
(Blackjack created by Osamu Tezuka. North American rights held by Viz
Comics, and no infringement is intended.)
Carlton Messrick looked out his window again. The storm was
growing worse. He felt a twinge of guilt at making the medico travel in such
weather, but for what Blackjack was being paid simply for a personal
consultation, he had every right to expect prompt arrival.
At last the limo pulled into the driveway, Messrick's chauffeur quickly
exiting the front to offer an umbrella's shelter to his passenger. A lightning
flash illuminated the visitor for a moment, a figure seemingly from the past in
his black greatcoat. Even from this distance, there was something...sinister
about the man.
A few minutes later, Blackjack was shown into the den by the maid, who
swiftly withdrew. Messrick had firmly indicated what would happen to any
servant who eavesdropped tonight. A pity, really, as it meant he would have
to serve himself.
Blackjack was an imposing figure of a man, tall for a Japanese. In his
black clothing, broken only by a white shirt and red poet's tie, the renegade
doctor seemed funereal in mood. His piercing brown eyes stared out from a
face with an obvious scar running crosswise across it; the skin on one side of
the scar was noticeably darker than the other. A shock of white protruded
from his black hair.
From what Messrick had learned, the operation that had given Blackjack
his unique appearance had been performed by the man himself, and was the
reason he'd never been allowed to graduate medical school.
"Doctor Blackjack, I'm pleased to meet you," began Messrick, extending
a hand.
"Just Blackjack," replied the other man. He made no move to take
Messrick's hand.
"I see. Very well, Blackjack, would you care for some port?"
"Yes. It is a wet night." Blackjack spoke English with only a faint
accent; Messrick's dossier on him said the man also spoke French, German,
Chinese and Russian fluently.
Messrick poured the liquor and handed Blackjack a glass, whereupon the
other collapsed into an overstuffed chair.
Blackjack drained the glass, motioned for another, and asked, "What do
you want?"
"I thought that was made quite clear in our telephone conversation."
"Indulge me. I've found that often, a patient's body language tells me
more than their words ever could."
Messrick sighed. "Very well. I want to be a girl."
"Then why do you need me? Gender reassignment is commonplace these
days. There is nothing I can do for you that can't be duplicated by a dozen
top-flight hospitals."
"They can't help me get what I really want. I can't wait for months of
hormone therapy and counseling, only to get a surgical simulation of
femininity. And the stockholders would riot if I started `living as a woman'."
Messrick was impressed that Blackjack hadn't asked why he wanted to be a
girl. Too many doctors had asked that question. "Besides, look at me! I'm
fifty! I'm fat and balding and big-boned. I could never pass successfully as
a woman."
"You'd be surprised," stated Blackjack flatly. "But you *are* rich.
Surely you could have started years ago."
"I'm rich *now*. My father kept a tight hand on the money until he
passed away three years ago, and if he'd had any idea his only son really
wanted to be his daughter, he'd have disinherited me in a flash. Since I don't
have a living wife or any children, I'm finally free to do as I please."
"I...see. Still, there is nothing I can do for you."
Messrick leaned in closer. "Really? What about...TGR?"
"Total Genetic Replacement. An experimental technique at best, and
incredibly hazardous. To even attempt its use on a human being would be
incredibly unethical."
"Unethical?! Aren't you the man who created his own daughter out of
spare parts?"
Blackjack froze Messrick with a glare. "That is an oversimplification of
the event. A life was at stake."
"I can pay you, Blackjack. You know I have money."
"Yes. Sufficient money will overcome most objections. Still, I'm not
entirely convinced. You do know that TGR requires a donor, someone to be
the genetic template?"
Messrick couldn't resist a smug smile. "Of course, my good man. I
have the very woman in mind already. The skating star, Aiko Murasaki."
He was completely unprepared for Blackjack's reaction. A grin split the
scarred face, a low chuckle gurgled out of his throat, and soon the medico
was slapping his knee and roaring with laughter.
"What's so funny?" growled Messrick.
"I apologize," said Blackjack, sobering himself. "I've met the woman.
*Now* I'm intrigued. But why her?"
Messrick stood and walked to the window. The storm had settled into a
steady driving rain. "I've always been fascinated by the appearance of
Japanese women, their grace and beauty. I've often imagined what it would
be like to be one. And Aiko is one of the most perfect I've ever seen, athletic
and yet entirely feminine."
Blackjack poured himself another glass. "You do realize that TGR will
only give you the data in the DNA itself? You'd have to build any muscles
on your own."
"Of course. Once I have my new body, you can be assured I'll take good
care of it. And I've already arranged the necessary steps to transfer my
holdings to my new female self. Oh, I understand that it may be possible to
set a particular age to start with?"
Blackjack nodded. "Yes. It is theoretically within the treatment's
parameters. I take it that you wish to be younger than the 33 Miss Murasaki
is now?"
"Damn straight! Not too young, though. Don't want to be a little kid
again."
"If all goes as I expect, you will look exactly as Aiko Murasaki did at 16.
Of course, there are still risks. You may prove to be allergic to any of the
numerous chemicals involved in the process. There is the slim possibility of
a failure in the support machinery. And there is always the possibility of
complete DNA rejection."
Messrick shuddered. He'd seen the tapes smuggled out of the
government lab, and the rabbit slowly dissolving into a pile of pink goo.
"That's why I called you, Blackjack. You're the world's greatest living
expert on fringe medicine. If anyone can successfully complete the first TGR
on a human, you can."
"Thank you for the vote of confidence. But I can't eat praise. Here are
my conditions. Six million dollars, half now, half on your survival of the
process. A full expense account for all the medical supplies and machinery
I'll need. Oh, and a fresh blood sample from Miss Murasaki, obtained
*without* harming her."
"Already taken care of. I've got a man in the blood bank she donates to
regularly. But I must ask, Blackjack, what do you do with all that money?
I've heard of some of the fees you've collected; you must be even richer than
I am by now."
The renegade smiled. "I have...hobbies. And they are my own affair.
Now, what sort of working space do you have here in the mansion? I can
start immediately."
* *
Three months later, (two of which had been wasted, in Messrick's
opinion, by emergency calls Blackjack had gone off on,) the two men stood
in the basement laboratory, which looked like a cross between a modern
hospital's operating room and a mad scientist's lair.
The smell of antiseptic and ozone filled the air, as a Jacob's Ladder sent
sparks up its length.
"I've been meaning to ask, Blackjack, what's that thing for?" Messrick
pointed to the Ladder.
"Oh, that? For effect. I find the sound soothing. You've taken care of
your affairs?"
"Yes. Everything is set on my end. And I take it the same is true of
you?"
"I want to do one last physical exam before I start the process."
Soon, Messrick was stripped to his shorts and being poked and prodded
for what had to be at least the twentieth time.
"You know, Messrick, you are still quite healthy for your age, though
you could stand to lose some weight. It is not too late to reconsider."
Messrick grunted as Blackjack examined his toes. "After all this? If
nothing else, I'll make history."
"Or quite a mess. My tests indicate that your DNA is compatible enough
with Miss Murasaki's to allow a smooth switchover, but I have been wrong
before. Twice."
"Stop trying to scare me off, Blackjack."
"Very well. I won't insult you with another technical description of the
process, you now know nearly as much as I do about TGR, but when you
awaken one month from now, you will have the body Aiko Murasaki did at
age sixteen."
Blackjack directed Messrick to take several pills, then gave him three
shots, one in each arm and another in the buttocks. Almost immediately, the
multi-millionaire began feeling woozy.
Still, he was able to walk enough for Blackjack to move him to the
harness. The scarred man attached an IV and a breathing mask, then swung
Messrick into the regeneration vat.
Messrick began to count backwards from one hundred. He didn't get
past eighty-one.
* *
Messrick opened his eyes from a pleasant dream of swimming in an
endless warm ocean. The ceiling was pink. There was only one pink ceiling
in the mansion, that of the special room he'd had prepared for his new girl
self, stocked with everything he'd need to enjoy his new feminine life.
This could only mean the operation had been a success! He tried to
cheer, but his throat, no *her* throat, only managed a dry croak. Well, she'd
have to get some water soon.
Kikyo (for that was the name she'd chosen for her new self) pushed
herself up to a sitting position. A mirror against the wall caught her attention.
There was a lovely young woman with short black hair reflected there,
wearing a flowing white nightgown.
She tottered to her feet, clumsy in her new form. Her fingernails were
still short, Blackjack had warned her that DNA didn't automatically give you
long, manicured nails. Kikyo stumbled across the room to the mirror,
abruptly realizing that it was awfully blurry.
Then she recalled that she was now a bit near-sighted. Aiko Murasaki
wore contacts, and Kikyo had had several sets made up and ready...back by
the bed.
Now much closer to the mirror, Kikyo sensed something wrong. Her
profile didn't look quite right. Then she realized what it was. Where were
her breasts? Surely Aiko hadn't been this flat-chested at sixteen! She felt her
chest and discovered...absolutely nothing! She was flat as a board! But her
face was definitely Aiko's. What was going on here?
Then a pressure, all too familiar, began to gnaw at her consciousness.
Kikyo lifted her gown above her waist...and stared in horror at the all-too-
male object between her legs.
She screamed.
The door opened, and Blackjack strode in, dressed in his traveling
clothes. "Well, well, Kikyo, I see you're awake."
"Something's gone wrong! Look at me! The treatment didn't work!"
"Oh, the treatment worked just fine. Your body is exactly, plus or minus
a couple of scars, identical to Aiko Murasaki's at age sixteen. Right before
she paid me to perform gender reassignment treatment on her. Good day."
Kikyo sank to her, or perhaps it was his, after all, knees and wept as
Blackjack left.
FIN
Okay, I stole the punchline from the "It's Your Fault" story. But I think
it works nicely here. And don't feel too badly for Kikyo, after all she's still
rich and can become a girl the hormones and surgery way...
There's a female-to-male gender reassignment in another Blackjack story,
btw...it's been printed in English, and should be in one of Viz's graphic
novels. Comments please, SKJAM! [email protected]
Sherry
- 25.09.2021
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