Remix Chapter 13 Euphoria
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Remix, Chapter 1: Backbeat free porn video
Remix, Chapter 1: Backbeat
By Brevdravis
The first thing that James noticed was the stiffness in the right
side of his face. As he opened his eyes, the pull of the skin along his
cheek caused slight pain when the scabs upon it tugged. Judging from
the amount of hardness along his face, he realized he must have torn
the flesh from at least half of it.
He began to open his mouth, feeling the small scrapes of metal on
the inside of his lips. Braces, twisted and protruding, which cut
slightly into him. The pain was mild, but it served to sharpen his
awareness. Gingerly, he brought a hand up to his face, and ran it along
the healing wounds. The slight contact did not hurt much, but it
brought home the amount of injury he truly had. He noted with some
distraction the small IV that was inserted into the back of his hand.
Turning his attention away from himself, he looked about the room
where he was. Across from the steel bed where he lay, a television
mounted on the wall blared out some inane sitcom. About him, there were
numerous tables, all with closed drawers. The walls were slightly off
color, and rough from what he could see. The floor too was a white
color, but speckled with numerous flecks of some other material. Set
against one wall, a doorway lay wide open, with a hallway beyond.
It wasn't the nicest hospital James had ever been in, but it
would pass muster.
James turned his thoughts back to the last memories he had. He
recalled drinking. Actually he remembered drinking quite a bit. He
hadn't driven or anything, had he?
It took a moment before James remembered writing his suicide
note. He sighed inwardly, realizing he must have fucked that up too.
Can't he do anything right? It was obvious what had happened. He must
have taken the drugs and they didn't do what he had hoped. He must have
had his stomach pumped, and now here he was.
He reflected a moment more. But that didn't make sense, his still
slightly exhausted mind interjected. If he had tried to commit suicide
he wouldn't be alone here. There would be a suicide watch. Heck, they
probably would have chained him to the bed. And why the facial
injuries? It didn't feel like burns, so the only way he could have got
them is if someone had dragged him to the hospital on his face. James
chuckled slightly at the thought of his overweight landlord trying to
manhandle him to a car by dragging his legs. Not very likely.
"Oh, you're up." The voice was his mother, Anne. Oh God. The last
thing he needed after an unsuccessful suicide was his mother. He waited
for the recriminations, as he turned towards the door.
"How are you feeling?" the young looking woman at the door asked
him. Young? James stared at his mother; at least she looked and sounded
like her. The woman in her late thirties who looked back at him had an
expression of concern on her face. There was no anger; just an
affection and what seemed a sense of worry. His mother?
James never remembered her looking that way. The woman he
remembered was older, almost fifty. It was a rare moment when she
didn't criticize him, and the concern that this woman was showing was
totally the antithesis of that scorn. An instant or two went by before
James finally realized that she was his mother, but she had gone
through some radical transformation. She must have had one of those
makeover shows do a number on her. That would probably explain her
changed attitude as well.
"I'm okay, I guess." James mumbled. The drugs he had taken must
have done a number on his vocal chords, or his hearing, because he
could have sworn that the voice that he answered her with was several
notes higher than it should have been.
Smiling at him, Anne moved into the room from the doorway. As she
did so, James glanced over her form. She had obviously lost some
weight, falling from the hefty woman size to the full-figured woman
size. Her curly hair was worn a bit longer than she used to wear it,
but the dark blonde coloration was the same. He noted with some
distraction the lack of grey in her hair. She continued on, pulling up
a metal chair with a plastic seat, and sitting on it, next to the bed.
"That's nice hon." Anne commented, her gaze moving up to the
television that blared in the room. "What are you watching?"
"I wasn't watching it. It was just on." James commented, unable
to believe how good his mother was looking. It was like ten years had
been peeled off in an instant.
"Good. Rots your brain." Anne replied, picking up the remote
control and switching the set off. The silence in the room was a bit
disconcerting, but he didn't comment. How much longer was she going to
keep this up before she lowered the boom?
"You look nice, mom." James tried, a bit unsure of what to say.
He knew there must be something wrong with his ears, because his voice
still didn't sound right.
There was a pause as Anne looked at James. He waited for the
lecture, mentally bracing himself for the load of crap she was about to
dump on him. She took a deep breath, then spoke some words that shocked
him.
"I don't think you should go riding with Randall anymore." The
comment was brief, and said in such an offhand manner that James was
momentarily dumbstruck. Randall? Her second husband and he had never
gotten along, even when they had gone out riding together. But they
hadn't been riding together in years, ever since that one time.
A flood of memories raced through James' mind. Images, neither
real nor unreal, flashed before his eyes. A laughter; a savage burning
laughter that he would never forget. He glanced down at his hands
again, past the IV, to truly look at them. The small scar on the back
of his wrist that had been there from childhood was larger, no longer
almost completely melded with the rest of the skin. The hair on his arm
no longer was the deeper blond that he remembered, but a thin light
brown that covered considerably less. He was back in that hospital, two
days after nearly killing himself on a motorcycle.
His eyes widened, and a broad smile crossed his face. It hurt to
smile like that, pulling hard on the scabs that coated his face, but he
knew they would heal. He was back! He hadn't forgotten anything. He
remembered it all: His life, Los Angeles, the Navy, College. Everything
was there. What year was it? He had to remember. There was so much to
do. He began to chuckle, and while it pained his body to do so, he had
to laugh.
"James, are you alright?" Anne's voice cut through his inner
monologue, and she stared at him with a severe expression on her face.
"I'm fine, mom." He replied, trying unsuccessfully to wipe the
smile off his face. He wasn't fine. He was better than fine. He had
been given his life back and he had no way to explain that to the woman
in front of him. In fact, he reflected, I better not tell her. First
thing that will get me is slapped right in to the nearest mental
institution.
His mind whirled, trying to remember what he had said to her
earlier question back in... God, he couldn't remember the year! He
remembered that he hadn't gone out with Randall ever again, so he must
have agreed with her.
"You're probably right about that, mom. I don't know what I saw
in motorcycles anyway." You got that right, he thought to himself. The
last time you sat your ass on a motorcycle was at sixteen and it left
you right where you are now.
"I'm not saying you shouldn't ride, but I think that dirt bikes
are a little too dangerous, honey." Anne continued. Her face smiled at
him softly. James looked into her hazel eyes, and nodded.
"Yeah." He agreed, leaning his head back into the pillow fully,
and noting the long hair that pressed into the back of his head. Oh
lord, he mused, this must have been the year I wore my hair long. He
swore a silent oath to get a haircut as soon as he got home.
"Maybe in a year or two, you can get your license and try again,
but I just don't think..." She was reading a speech, James realized,
shutting off his attention. He remembered how she would go on and on
for the better part of forever. He nodded, not knowing what he had
agreed to, but not really caring. His mind was occupied with his
memories, trying to recall everything possible about what was going on.
The year, dammit, let's see counting back... Nineteen ninety three. It
had to be. The year he went off to college was the ninety three, ninety
four school year. SHIT! Idaho! What the fuck was he going to do in
Idaho? All they had up there was blue skies and cow shit! Hang on, it
wasn't that bad. This was college, remember.
"...good news is that the doctor says you're healing a lot faster
than normal for..."
College! He could do it right this time. No more trying to bang
everything that moved. Hell, he hadn't been successful the first time,
since Nineteen year old girls wanted nothing to do with a kid. Two
months from now. Hmm, better write off Rush week, even though he
recalled that it had probably been planned already. Well, he'd just
have to cancel now, wouldn't he. No frat would be stupid enough to let
a sixteen year old in.
"...although they're a bit concerned about some things that
showed up in your CAT scan..."
At the thought of college girls, he found himself becoming
slightly excited, a mild bulge beginning to form in his sheets. Shit.
James had forgotten how easily aroused he had been at sixteen. He'd
have to work doubly hard to not make the same mistakes he had before.
Remember, buddy, he told himself, you didn't get laid the first time.
Well, not willingly at any rate. Oh shit. Mental note: do not go to
Delta Tau Delta party! Underline that one twice! He had no intention of
losing his virginity to a guy the second time around.
"...so we're going have to have you stay here until they finish
the..."
Do the military again this time around? Why not? If he finished
college at eighteen he could be an officer at nineteen. Heck, he could
probably get into the academy this time through, with what he
remembered! Retirement at thirty-nine, with a nice fat severance
package. So many potentials lost! Not an instant to waste. Two months
seemed like an eternity.
"...love you. James, I know that you're in a lot..."
Tests? The last few sentences that Anne had spoke reverberated in
his mind. He didn't remember staying for tests. Not after two days.
"...so, I guess I'll let you rest. Call me if you need anything."
Anne finished her statement, and headed towards the door, pushing the
small chair back into position. She closed the door behind her, leaving
James alone in the silent room.
Tests. Something about his CAT-scan. Dear lord, that spirit
didn't give me cancer or something did it? James remembered those final
burning words along with that laugh. One letter would be changed.
Arrgh. Why did he have to be so stupid? It would be something
debilitating, wouldn't it. It had to be. Something that destroyed his
life without giving him the chance to live it right. Something like
changing him to HIV. Didn't he have a canker sore on his mouth earlier?
Oh God, canker to cancer! No, he touched his lips, he didn't have any
of those. What else, could it be though? He ran through the various
combinations of his name, trying to find an embarrassing nickname made
by changing one letter. Nothing jumped out at him. Well, whatever it
was, he'd find out soon enough.
James reached for the remote with his left hand and flipped the
television on. On the screen four people sat around trying to figure
out a way to get into some girls pants. Oh yes, James thought. Some
things, like prime time television, would never change.
***
The next morning, James awoke to find a large portion of a scab
on his pillow. Sometime during the night, it had just fallen off. With
some disgust he flipped the vile sloughed skin away with a gesture of
his left hand. Ambidexterity had always been one of his few talents,
not that it ever came in useful in this day and age. He touched his
face, amazed to feel the new skin under his fingers. It was smooth, as
all new skin is. Now he knew that something was wrong.
James distinctly recalled spending weeks indoors, embarrassed by
his injuries. What had taken weeks to heal, had been reduced to a few
hours. Not only that, but the few teeth in his mouth that he remembered
being loosened were solidly set. There was a deep, overriding fear
welling up inside James.
"What the fuck?" he asked aloud, his hands touching his face
where his injuries were mysteriously absent. "Nobody heals that fast.
Nobody."
"Oh, you're awake?" A tall blonde woman in a nurse's smock looked
in the door at the sound of his voice. "I'll tell the doctor." She
rapidly disappeared from view.
James sighed, running his fingers through his hair, pushing it
back from his eyes. Get a fricking haircut, he reminded himself. He
remembered wearing his hair long, but not to the middle of his back. He
must have gotten a haircut soon after the accident.
His contemplation was cut short by the arrival of the slight man
in scrubs entering the room. He was tall, wearing a closely cropped
beard under a pair of what James had referred to as "Birth Control
Glasses" in the Navy. There was a calm expression on his face as he
walked towards the bed.
"Good morning, James." The doctor commented, looking not at
James' face, but at his throat. There was a puzzled expression on the
doctor's face, but he spoke calmly and quietly. "I hope you slept
well."
"Well enough." James replied, waiting for the shoe to drop.
Doctors only spoke calmly and quietly when they wanted their patients
to stay calm and quiet. From the expression on the doctor's face, he
wanted James to stay calmer than a corpse.
"That's good, Jim. I'm Doctor Hubbard." The doctor paused a
moment, "You do like Jim, right?"
"No, I hate Jim." James stated flatly, "Jim is redneck with a
shotgun and a case of beer."
A hint of a smile crossed Hubbard's face, before he resumed his
calm expression. "Alright, James, do you mind if I sit down?"
"It's a free country." James replied, trying to remember that
this man thought of him as sixteen. A little patronization was to be
expected.
The doctor pulled over the same chair that James' mother had
occupied the night before, and leaned back. He pulled up a clipboard,
that James had not noticed him carrying earlier.
"I've already spoken with your mother, and she felt it was best
if I filled you in on your condition." His voice was deathly calm, as
if he was about to announce a funeral.
"Well, don't keep me in suspense." James stated sarcastically. He
knew that the man was trying to spare his feelings, but James would be
damned if he would wait any longer to find out what was wrong.
"Alright James, first off, the good news. You're healing at a
rate that is unbelievable. It seems to be slowing down a bit, but if it
stays at the current rate, you should be in perfect health fairly soon.
Your face has almost completely healed, with no scar tissue, which is
very lucky indeed considering the depth of the abrasions. Your teeth
have already become set in their positions, and you will be seeing your
orthodontist to have your braces removed tomorrow. You're already ready
to move, but we've kept you here because of some other problems."
So, healing rapidly. Great! No more braces! Better! If the bad
news wasn't too bad, James couldn't imagine a better life. One of the
major problems of his social life, his damned braces, would be forever
removed. James nodded at Hubbard with a smile on his face.
Hubbard breathed heavily, but maintained his beatific expression.
"Now the bad news. For some reason, you seem to have had a
genetic, well, for lack of a better term, switch flipped. Your body is
behaving, on a cellular level, as if you were a fetus."
What? That had to be wrong? That would explain the healing
though. However, he must have had his metabolism speeded up to
incredible levels. He glanced at the nearly empty IV near him, and
realized how many of them he had gone through in the last day. He
recalled the nurse coming in at least seven times to replace empty
bags.
"So what, I'm going to die?" James asked, recalling that horrid
disease, Hutchison-something. The disease that made kids die of old age
at ten. It had something to do with metabolism.
"No, James, and that's the interesting part. Everywhere the cells
in your body have been replaced, like your face, the cells are behaving
normally. It's strange, but our best guess is that when you've had
every cell in your body replaced by new ones, you should return to your
standard metabolism."
"So, I guess I'll lose scar tissue," James stated, looking down
at his hand. Indeed, the scar there seemed a bit less puffy, and closer
to the look it had had when he was older.
"I'm afraid that's not all," Hubbard explained, leaning a bit
closer to James' reclining form. "I'm sorry, but there is an
abnormality, well, not really an abnormality, but a variation, in the
new cells."
"Please cut to the chase, doc." James groaned, looking at the
doctor with a sharp expression. "I don't need the long version."
"Yes, you do. Now calm down, James. This is going to be very hard
to explain."
James merely nodded, his gaze fixed upon the doctor.
"The new cells are identical to yours in all ways, with the
exception of the twenty-third chromosome pair. Have you taken much
genetics in school?"
"I'm not an illiterate, doc." James replied, a bit peeved. "The
twenty-third chromosome pair is the only chromosome pair to vary in
size and shape depending upon the person's sex. In males it is an ecks-
why, and in females an ecks-ecks."
"Well, good, I'm glad you can save me some time." Doctor
Hubbard's voice showed no sarcasm, just that same, infuriating calm.
"So, I guess you can understand the implications when I tell you that
every new cell in your body carries an ecks-ecks chromosome pair."
How the fuck did that happen, James wondered. Ecks-ecks? That's
the genetic marker for a female. Female? Oh my God.
"Now James, I want you not to panic. I want you to realize that
normally this would be a self correcting failure of the genetic code.
However, the problem is that your body is seeing your current cells as
the error, and is replacing them, and not the variants."
"Replacing them, with these, uh, female cells?" James tried to
keep the fear out of his voice, but failed rather miserably.
"Yes, James. At the rate you're currently, uh, healing, our best
estimate is that every cell in your body will be replaced in about one
month."
"But that won't change anything!" James smiled. The vast majority
of the human body's development was in the womb. Since he was already
fully formed, he supposed the worst that could happen would be that he
would only be able to father girls, since his testicles would be
working from ecks-ecks cells. Fucking coyote tried to fuck with the
wrong fucking person in the wrong fucking way! James felt like crowing
in triumph. He was back and it would work! One letter changed indeed.
Such a pity that spirits didn't know about human development.
"I wish it was that simple." Doctor Hubbard's voice was calm.
"Normally you'd be correct and it wouldn't change anything save a few
minor characteristics, since your body is almost fully developed.
However, as I said earlier, your body seems to have had another
"switch" flipped. The one that tells cells to form organs, bones, etc.
Combined with your speeded-up metabolism, I'm afraid that I have bad
news."
"Bad news?" James hadn't really been listening to the last
statement; he was too busy congratulating himself for winning his "Bet"
with an ancient spirit.
"Yes James, I'm afraid that, well, look. Feel your throat."
Smirking, James reached his left hand up to feel at his neck. It
felt the same as always, a smooth line from his chin to his collar
bones. Smooth. James felt up and down several times, noting no bump in
the middle where he knew there should be one. No Adam's apple.
"What the fuck?" James breathed rapidly, checking his throat
again. It was gone! When he swallowed his throat went through the
motion, but there was no rising lump that he had always felt before
when swallowing.
"I'm afraid that that is the most obvious symptom that we have so
far observed. We estimate as more and more of your original form is
replaced there will be other, much more noticeable changes."
"WHAT THE FUCK?" James shouted, his hand still on his throat.
"WHAT SYMPTOMS! WHAT?"
"Please calm down, James, your mother is right outside and I
don't thing she wants to hear that kind of language. I know I don't."
"I DON'T GIVE A RAT'S ASS!" James shouted looking at the doctor
with pure rage in his eyes. "WHAT SYMPTOMS?"
"To be honest, we're not sure. We assume that your bone structure
will be the first and most subtle change. After that we expect the
standard development of primary and secondary sexual characteristics
for your gender."
"For my gender? You mean my sex?" James' voice took on a more
calm tone, but the intonations were icier, with a vicious comment.
"Primary sex characteristics? A fucking pussy? Is that what you're
saying?"
"Calm down, James. To put it into vulgar terms, yes. You are
correct." Hubbard's voice matched James' icy tone with one of his own.
"Genetically, you are currently female, and you will, thanks to this
condition, take on all of the characteristics associated with that."
Female? James breathed heavily, his eyes threatening to tear.
Talk about a change! One thing, oh God. He had sworn he would do
anything. It looked like he would have to do exactly that. He looked
away from the Doctor, trying desperately not to sob.
"No, please no." He looked at his hands, thinking that he could
already see them shrinking, losing the strength that would in later
years allow him to play the guitar for hours on end.
"I know this is a lot to accept." Hubbard spoke to James' back,
continuing the conversation in that same unemotional tone. "I've
already spoken to your mother. She'd like to see you as soon as we
finish talking here."
"Can't, I mean isn't there something you can do?" James turned
back towards the man in the chair. His eyes took on a desperate cast.
"James, I can only do what I've already done. Your mother has
already arranged for you to visit with a local gyn... I mean doctor.
She'll take over your case when you get home."
"Home?" James asked, his eyes wide. "You're not going to keep me
here?"
"James, believe it or not, all doctors are not glory hounds
looking for a new disease to publish on. Your mother practically begged
me not to make this into a research circus, and I agree with her. What
you need right now is family and time to adjust, not a bunch of us lab
coats poking at anatomy you aren't even used to. "
He stood up to leave.
"I'll send your mother in." He spoke quietly, and turned towards
the door. He was halfway there when James addressed him.
"I'm sorry. I'm just really, really scared." James' apology
seemed to brighten the mood of the doctor, who turned and smiled at
him.
"Hey, I, well, I don't understand, but I've helped lots of people
with terrible conditions. Yours is frightening, but it's an experience
that many people would kill for." The smile on his face brightened.
"Like me."
With that said, he left the room, leaving James alone with his
thoughts.
To be continued...
Alma
- 13.03.2021
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