The Ultimate Transplant: From Gay Nerd to Jock Brother
A reworked Interactive Storyline
When you woke, the world seemed out of focus and fuzzy. In the back ground, you could hear voices speaking in urgent tones, but no matter how you concentrate, you couldnât make out what they were saying. A few words came through clearly; âbrain transplant,â âsaved lives,â âhow will we explainâŚâ but none of it made any sense. Blinking your eyes again, the world became darker until the world vanished back into blackness and the voices faded with them.
Later, you again woke from a dreamless sleep to a world that was less fuzzy. Near by, you could hear the beeping of medical equipment, the soft sigh of an oxygen mask flowing cold, and very dry oxygen directly to your nose, and more voices talking, but these seemed too distant to hear.
âWhatâŚâ you managed to croak, your throat feeling dry as though you hadnât had a drink in days. The last thing you remembered was coming home from your brotherâs football game⌠You and your brother Jensen had been arguing with your sister Tabitha and your brotherâs girlfriend Allison in the back seat about whether or not cheerleaders were real athletes. Then there was a scream⌠you werenât sure who, but you thought it was your mother, she was the one driving, but it could have been anyone. After that was spinning, and then blackness.
âTim? Are you awake there?â The voice that questioned you was one youâd never heard. Deep, masculine, but full of concern. âYou can just nod your head if you can hear me,â the man said, stepping into Timâs field of view. He seemed tall, but that was hard to tell from the hospital bed. He had a dark fringe of hair around his mostly bald head, a thick mustache and equally thick glasses. Most comforting though was the white lab coat and the name tag that read âDr. Kerry.â
Nodding slowly, you managed to mouth "water?â
âOh, of course,â Dr. Kerry said. Reaching for a cup near by, he slipped an ice cube in your mouth with gentle fingers saying, âjust suck on that a bit, and nod your head when you need a new one. Drinking may be a bit much yet, but youâll get there before you know it.â The ice felt wonderful as the dried out tissues of your mouth perked up instantly to the moisture. âWhile you suck on that Tim, I need to explain something to you.â
âHow bad?â you manage to croak around the ice cube,
âOh, you. Not very bad at all really, all things considered,â Dr. Kerry said, seemingly focused on things other than your own injuries. âYour left side took the brunt of it⌠your foot and ankle took a fair bit of damage, and youâll be walking in a cast for quite a while, once we get you back to walking, but have no fear, youâll be in shape for spring soccer. Um⌠your left arm has a small break below the elbow, also in a cast, but not as bad as the foot. A few ribs, some stitchesâŚ. you may have a small scar over your left eye, but itâs nearly to the hair line, no one should notice it until you get to my age and have nothing to hide it with,â he finished with a small chuckle.
âNo, what I need to talk to you about is something else that happened. You werenât the only one in the crash, and we, that is, my colleague Dr. Saunders and I, we performed a very radical surgery to save lives, and it was successful in saving a life. But Iâm afraid that is only because your older brother Jensen was available as a donor. Iâm sorry Tim, but their sacrifice enabled us to save a life, while there was nothing we could do to save them all.â
"Iâm afraid that your brother sustained a very serious head injury in the accident Tim,â Dr. Kerry continued. âA piece of metal pierced his skull, very close to the temple. While it wasnât instantly fatal, the surgery was very risky to remove the object. Your father asked that we try, if we hadnât, he would not have survived more than another few hours. Sadly, the brain damage was too extensive, and we werenât able to save him. His body was otherwise fine however, and your father agreed to let us use him in an experimental surgery to save another life. Weâve transplanted the brain of another person into his body, someone who was hospitalized because of injuries far more extensive than your own that was also very near death.â
âThe person whoâs brain has been transplanted into your brotherâs body is⌠Dean Hughes. I believe that you both went to the same school? Though from his age, he must have been a few years younger than you. He happened to be in the same car accident as yours. His entire family was killed except for him. Poor kid was barely clinging on, well his brain was fine. Body was a mangled mess.â Dr. Kerry explained in the doctoral manner, cold and distant, but also oddly reassuring.
Your mind was trying to deal with the more pressuring issue at hand to bother to notice Dr. Kerryâs delivery of the news. Dean Hughes? The school nerd? Everyone at your school knew of Dean, but for all the wrong reasons. Being one of the smartest kids at school had him skip a few years and landing himself in your class. However, that special treatment also made him a prime target for the envious school bullies. On top of it, his scrawny, small frame, pimpled-covered face, and thick-rimmed, coke bottle glasses just begged him to be picked on. He seemed like an alright kid from your limited interactions with, a little obnoxious, but Dean definitely didnât deserve the hazing he got a school. You winced as you remembered Dean getting wedgieâd in the school mainâs quad, hard enough were his underwear ripped in half. A part of you had wanted to help him, but you rather not face the wrath of the school bully. There was also the rumors of him being gay as well, though it was never confirmed. Now the same shy, and possibly gay nerd was residing in your brotherâs athletic body. Not taking the news very well, you started to dry heave. You wanted to throw up, but nothing was in your stomach. Dr. Kerry called for a nurse and your dad rushed in to console you.
Some hours later, you had calmed down and eaten some saltines with water. At least something was in your stomach now. First you had been angry with your dad, how could he let some stranger be in your brotherâs body? Though he broke down and said he couldnât let go of your brother. It had been too much and this operation seemed like a way out. In your fatherâs shoes, you would probably have done the same. Since then your father had left you alone, so you could think things over yourself. Slowly you started to accept that your brother was dead, or at least the brother you knew. Now Dean Hughes had a new lease on life, though that lease came with your brotherâs body.
A few days later, you were discharged from the hospital. You asked when Dean, or your brother, you still hadnât made up your mind, would be released from the hospital. Since Deanâs family had been killed, he would be staying with your family for the time being, mostly to keep up appearances that your brother was still himself after the car accident. The doctor explained that your âbrotherâ would stay at the hospital for a couple of weeks first. He was still recovering from the operation and the hospital staff wanted to make sure that your brother could acclimate to the world. You sighed and stared outside the window. âAcclimateâ, meaning teaching Dean all of those things that no meek nerd would know. He had lost a few years of his life, turned into one of the universityâs most popular jock, and now had you as his younger brotherâŚ
The weeks passed without much fanfare. You fell back into your normal routine of school and soccer practice. At school it was bizarre to attend a memorial for Dean, even though you knew the truth. Your father asked you several times if you wanted to join him on his daily trips to hospital to check up on Jensen/Dean, but you dodged the questions by saying you were busy. Though he knew the excuses were flimsy, he didnât want to push you. Randall, your best friend, stopped by multiple times a week after school to cheer you. Several times you thought about telling him of what happened to your brother, especially when you brought up Dean and his familyâs death, but you couldnât. Dean should have the final say.
One night you found yourself unable to sleep - your head too busy swimming with thoughts of Dean and your now deceased brother. About how he was, all the things you used to do together when you were little, and how much you truly loved him even though you two always fought. He took after your dad a lot more than you did your mom, having broad shoulders, incredible musculature, with amazingly lush blond hair. Unlike you, he was exactly what youâd call a complete stud, being incredibly popular amongst girls, dating a bunch of them, before settling for the sweet and kind Allison. At least they were together now in the afterlife, although to the world your brother was still very much alive. The truth was, your real brother was now gone, replaced instead by that of one of your classmates. A quiet, meek nerd who was bullied by literally everyone. A nerd who now had the body of your handsome jock brotherâŚ
Finally a month after the accident, your father said the day had finally arrived for your brother to return home. Once again you said were too busy to go with him to the hospital, had to stay after school for some reason or another. Arriving to your house after school ended, you paced nervously inside your room. The problem you had ignored for the better part of a month was rearing its head right at you. You jumped as you heard the garage door open and then close. Nervously you crept outside your room and peaked down the stairs. What met your eyes was nothing out of the ordinary.
Your father was talking to your brother, pointing to various things around the first floor. Your heart stopped for a moment. Your brother living and breathing, even though he was dead. You wanted to call out to him, run up and give him a hug, and then have him give you an annoying noogie⌠but you knew the brother you loved was gone. Instead what laid before you was only his body. The force that controlled him was a nerdy, shy boy, Dean Hughes. Nervously your eyes followed him as your father showed him around.
The first thing you noticed was the body language. He appeared very out of place, especially with that slouch. Like he didnât know quite what to do with himself. That slouch was the dead giveaway, your brother always nagged you about your posture and lead by example. Not the strong and fit brother you once knew. Next was his attire, a baggy striped T-shirt, a pair of jeans, and some nondescript tennis shoes. Not very athletic. Clothes to hide his body. You remembered how your classmate Anna said that your brother was a total stud. Anna had a crush on your brother for years, droning on and on about his perfect six-packs and firm pecs, but you did agree, though would never agree to it in person.
Turning around, you ducked behind the corner, making sure neither of them got a glimpse of you. Though you could not clearly see his face. Short disheveled, blond hair that had no products in it. Those blue eyes, which you both shared from your motherâs side. Perfect smooth skin, a feature your brother had been blessed with since the start of his high school years. Not even a single blemish. Absentmindedly, he lowered one of his meaty arms to scratch his balls, but stopped himself short. Perfectly normal for Dean, but not your brother. Your father seemed to control much of the conversation and lead him into a different room.
Slinking back to your room, you buried yourself into your pillow. That was all the proof that you needed that your brother was truly gone. Silently you wept, as the full nature of what had happened came to you. A hour later, there was a knock on your door. Your heart was beating so fast that it felt like it might explode. Luckily, the voice behind it was your fatherâs. You let him in before returning to sit on your bed.
âAhhhâŚI thought you were home. I spied you peaking down from upstairs when I showed Dean around.â Your father pulled your desk chair up right in front of you and sat down. âWell he is laying down in the guest room. Today has been an exhausting day for all us. You hungry, because I am going to cook some dinner for Dean and I?â
You shook your head. How could you be hungry?
âTim, can you promise you will give him a chance? Imagine how it must be for Dean. Lose your entire family and wake up to find yourself in a completely, foreign body. On top of that, one that is completely unlike his own. Sure things are tough for us, but he has no one.â
âSure.â Your father patted you on the back then gave you a hug.
He thanked you then left you to your own devices. Guest room? Guess even for dad, sleeping in his dead sonâs room was too much, at least for now. Plus Dean needed his own space you thought. Shaking your head, you needed to occupy yourself, naturally you turned on your ExBox and hoped Randall was on.
Around midnight, your stomach grumbled. Not hearing anything for the last few hours, assuming that your brother/Dean and father had gone to bed early, you decided to venture downstairs to make yourself a sandwich. Carefully you tiptoed down the stairs, as to not wake up anyone. Though the real challenge would be in the kitchen. Your familyâs bedrooms was down the hallway from your room, but the guest room was on the first floor. Somehow, your sandwich making did not wake anyone. Tiptoeing back to your room with a sandwich in hand, you heard an odd, muffled sound coming from the guestroom. This intrigued you. Setting the sandwich on a nearby table, you crept toward the guest room. The door was slightly ajar and there some light coming from the crack. Making your way to the door, the muffled sound started to get a little louder. Did you dare enter the bedroom? What if Dean was having a seizure or some other side effect from the operation? Your curiosity got the better of you and entered the room.
In the guest room, you could clearly see the light was coming from the attached bathroom. The bed was empty and the TV was on, somewhat hampering the sound coming from the bathroom. A cold sweat was starting to form on your forehead, the sound was starting to become more audible, to extent. Not words, but panting, clearly from your brotherâs voice. Suddenly the sound stopped and you touched something on the floor. You realized what was right in front of you, one of your brotherâs jockstraps, a simple white one. Grabbing it, you threw it out of your way. Crawling, then rolling you finally got a good look on what was happening in the bathroom, though a part of you knew exactly what was happening.
Your brother, or at least his body, was sitting on the toilet. His face was flushed and sweaty with perspiration. He was biting his lower lip to keep himself from screaming. Your attention was elsewhere to notice this facts. One of his hands was greedily, kneading and pinching on his one erect pink nipples, reddening from the obvious fact they had been played with vigorously, and occasionally giving your brotherâs large and firm pecs a squeeze. Going down further was where the real action was happening. The other hand was furiously playing with your brotherâs manhood. Getting a glimpse, you could see his cock and hand glistening from saliva. The person controlling your brotherâs body was all too inexperienced. The movements and gestures seemed clumsy and greedy, exactly what a horny, gay nerd would do given the chance to manipulate a fit and muscular jockâs body.
Noticing that your pants were becoming more constrictive, along with that fact that your boner was now digging into the floor, you couldnât believe that you were aroused by it. Your brotherâs naked body was masturbating right in front of you and you were getting a woody from it. You had always looked up to him, sometimes even envied him, but this⌠was this considered incest? You had heard that term tossed around a lot by some of your friends, especially when talking about their siblings, but you never thought you would experience it first hand. Damn your uncontrollable hormones and overactive imagination. Anything would get your dick hard, you told to comfort yourself. However your eyes were transfixed on your brotherâs body.
You wonder if Dean had done this back in the hospital? The movements were inexperienced and brutish, but there was a certain finesse, in the way this wasnât his first time around the block. Curiosity and pleasure must have gotten a hold of him. Part of you envied him. Access to that magnificent member and those juicy pecs whenever he wanted, even though the thought that it was your own brother disgusted you, well to be honest to a degree. Meanwhile you hadnât even come out of the closet or kissed another boy yet.
Like a switch, your brotherâs toes curled and his body arched against the back of the toilet. His semen came flying out all over himself and the bathroom tiles. Your brother made a small moan, then slid back down onto the toilet. You had just witnessed your own brother coming to an orgasm. Sweat covered his entire well-defined body, making small droplets. His cheeks were a deep crimson. One hand continued to make small circles around one of his nipples, while the other, glistening, was brought up to his flushed face, then smelt the juices. With the hand now gone, you had a clear view of his entire manhood. A jungle of blond hair covered much of its base, while the length and girth of it was beyond human comprehension. Your own dick felt ready to explode.
A few minutes passed and Dean sat on the toilet, catching his breath, though still making those circles on his nipple. Opening his blue eyes, Dean, still not noticing your presence, entered the nearby shower to clean himself off. Guess the masturbation session was over you thoughâŚ, until some faint moaning started once again from within the shower. Not wanting to test your luck this time around, you sneaked back out of the room, grabbed your sandwich, then made a beeline to your room.
Exhaling a sigh of relief, once in the confines of your room, you started to eat your sandwich, while thinking over what you had just seen. Your own brother, masturbating and coming to an orgasm, on top of it you had gotten an erection from it. The idea made you sick to the stomach, enough where you put down the sandwich and pushed it to the side. Not only was your brother dead, but now some horny, meek nerd was using your brotherâs body as his own sex toy. Images of your brotherâs hand greedily tugging his member, while aggressively tweaking his nipples entered your mind. Shaking you head, you tried to get those images out of your mind. But your body told you otherwise, as your erection came back. Damn, this was too much for you to handle.
Making your way over to your bed, you stared up at the ceiling, trying to get some sleep, it being a little after 1:30. Drifting off to sleep, finally, your dreams were filled with your brotherâs orgasming face, massive cock, and him pulling you in for a wet sloppy kiss. You were about to fuck his ass, him begging for you to fill his hole, but your alarm clock went off. Beads of sweat covered your forehead, while your t-shirt was drenched. This was not good.
Grabbing a nearby towel, you wiped off your forehead. This wasnât going to cut it, shower was the only way to fix your problem. Hoping in the shower, you tried not to think of Dean and your brother, but was too hard. The soft moan that escaped your brotherâs lips that you heard earlier this morning pierced your mind. Enough so, where you had to whack off in the shower. Turning you stood there silently as the wet dripped off your body. You were absolutely disgusted with yourself. You had just masturbated to your own brother. Perverse didnât even cover it. Sure it wasnât your brother, technically speaking, just his body. The master behind his controls was one of your classmates. No, you were just trying validate yourself. You broke out of your trance as your father called up to you. Sounded like breakfast was ready.
âAlright, be done in a few minutes. Just got done with a shower.â You hollered back down.
Usually your mother cooked breakfast, due to your father being such an awful. To be honest you were surprised that a fire alarm hadnât been set off. A tinge of sadness passed over you, your mother would never cook for you again and there would be siblings to fight over the comfiest chair with. Guess those people were right when they said the small things hurt the most. Returning to your room and changing into a t-shirt and a pair of khakis, you looked into the mirror. Were you ready to face Dean? He was going to be living in the house for the time being, so it wasnât like you could avoid him. However how could you face him, after his late night activities. No, you shook your head, this was the only way to get your head straight and get these thought out of your head. Plus, like your father said, Dean had not only lost his family, but was in a foreign body surrounded by strangers. He needed all the help he could get.
Beating like a drum at a rock concert, you went step by step down the stairs. There was no running away now. Turning a corner to the kitchen, you saw your father was cleaning up some dishes and pans. Looked like he had managed not to burn the house down. However that was the last thing on your mind as your attention was firmly placed on your brotherâs body. No Dean, you reminded yourself, he wasnât just flesh, but a person with emotions. Dean sat at a table eating a full plate of syrup-drenched pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon and seemed to be concentrating on reading something. Not your brotherâs typical morning breakfast as he often avoided too much sugar and fat, like any other jock. On top of it, instead of his usual protein drink was a cup of coffee. The disheveled blond hair were gone, instead replaced with a nicely parted hairdo. He was dressed in a pair of baggy sweatpants and a grey polo. Certainly not the hunk you had watched playing with himself on the toilet this morning.
âMorning, Tim.â Your father had finally become aware of your presence. âHope pancakes, eggs, and bacon are good enough for you.â
Your gaze was still on your brotherâs body, though he, with his blue eyes, looked up at you. Your eyes met each other and lingered for a few brief seconds. Unexpectedly, he blushed and turned back to whatever he was reading, clearly embarrassed.
âThanks Dad, surprised you didnât burn the house down.â Turning back your attention to your father. Making yourself a plate, not nearly the size of Deanâs, you sat down a seat down from him, while your father sat between you two. Poking here on and there on your plate, your tried to concentrate on your food, or at least appear as though you were. Jesus, he was right there. A part of you wondered if Dean knew you peeked on his session this morning.
âSo Dean, I believe you know my sonâŚ.Tim and vice versaâ Your father trying to bring up some conversation to break the silence.
Dean looked up and looked at your father. âYes, I meanâŚ.I didnât have any friends at school, but I knew of Tim, though I often sat in the back of the classroom. Not really much opportunity to interact with each other.â
He put another forkful of pancakes into his mouth. The brash tones of your brotherâs voice was all too familiar, but it sounded different, it was the word choice as though he talked like he grew up in a sophisticated home. Well he probably was.
âYeahâŚDad I know Dean,â You studied your brother more, now that you were so close. He looked the same, besides that insecure slouch. No indication that Dean had used his new assets to pleasure himself, or more appropriately abused your brotherâs body like some lecherous, horny, gay virgin. âHe is the school nerdâŚâ
You gasped at the weight of your words. âShit, I amâŚ.I didnât mean it.â
Your brotherâs body dropped his fork, then turned beet red, ashamed.
âTim, how could you say such a thing, apologize right now.â Your father firmly stated at you.
âNoâŚhe is right. I was the schoolâs nerdâŚI got picked on a lot. Never had any friends, wellâŚreal friends. I dreaded going to school everyday, but I enjoyed learning so much. Gym was horrible for me. I was a weakling, I will admit that. I wasnât fast or strong, which made me easy prey.â Deanâs eyes, becoming misty, looked directly at you. Your heart tore into two. Your brotherâs look of desperation was too much. You didnât want to see him like this. âAnd now Iâm in this body, and my family is deadâŚâ
Your father got up and put his hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort Dean.
âDean, IâŚsorry I am not good at thisâŚI wanted to so badly stand up for you, but I was too afraid. Honestly I didnât understand why so many people hated you. Sure, you might be a little weird, but hell my best friend Randall is even weirder than you, but I deal with it. But you are brilliant. I mean Nobel Prize brilliant. I swear all those people hated you because you had so much potential. And the teachers, they droned on and on about your intellect. Every one of them wanted you as a student, at least the ones who gave a damn about teaching. I should have stood up for you, but I wasnât strong enough.â You gulped. âBut now I am going to make it up for you.â
Like a bolt from the blue, you realized what you had just said. Was it because of the love you felt for your own brotherâs body that you said such a honest thing. Either way, Dean started to smile. âThank you.â
Your father sat back down, clearly proud that his son was willingly to express his heart so openly with a stranger. The conversation quickly turned to more geeky topics, like video games, movies, and other teenage things. Though at first it was awkward as hell to see your brother speak so adamantly of the things you loved, but you were so caught up in the conversation that you quickly didnât notice. Clearly, your father was out of his depth and let you two boys go at it, not wanting to interrupt your conversation. As the two of you talked, you started to realize that Dean and you had a lot in common. In another life, wellâŚthat wasnât quite true, the two of you could have been the best of friends. As the two of you got into a heated argument on who would win a fight, the Flash or Superman, of course the right answer was the Flash, your father sneaked away. Finally coming to a consensus, that due to the Flashâs superior speed, the victor would be the Flash. Dean assented, but not before giving a very audible pout. Your father returned to the table with a smile on his face.
âLooks like you two are quickly becoming friends.â You winched at that word. Too fast, dad, too fast. âGood thing, because I need to run down to the office to take care of some things. I wonât be back until dinner, so I will leave you some money to order food for lunch. Will you two be fine?â
âYou bet, Dad. I am sure that Dean and I will come up with something to pass the time. If we donât, then we can always burn the house down.â You winked at your dad, as Dean made very uncharacteristic, cocky grin with your brotherâs face.
Ten minutes later, your father was out the door and on his way to work. Now it was only Dean and you. Sure, earlier you had made a giant breakthrough, but it was still your brotherâs body. Your member made a slight twitch at the thought of your brotherâs sweaty muscular body. No, gotta keep this cool. Standing in the main hall, you looked over at Dean. He was inspecting his hard, defined biceps.
âHey, you want to play some Exbox, got one up in my room, along with the newest Dutyâs Call.â
Deanâs face lit up. Appearing as though this would be the first activity in your brotherâs body, the two of you scurried upstairs.
Approached and almost entered the room before you stopped yourself. Peaking inside, your room was an absolute mess, since arriving back from the hospital you had little desire to pick up yourself and not having the usual helping hand of your clean mother. Popping your head back into the hallway, you explained to Dean, that you needed to spruce up your room. He slightly chuckled and explained how it couldnât be worse than his room. Throwing your clothes into your hamper, picking up various pieces of garbage, clearing your desk of various school papers, and somewhat making your bed, which mean throwing the sheets and pillows on top of the bed, the room looked like half way decent, at least for now. But why were you cleaning your room? Dean had just said that his room, his old room, had probably looked worse. You knew why though, your brother had always nagged you about cleaning the room. This was a involuntary, gut reaction, as your brother would always force you to clean your room before Allison or a guest visited.
Returning to the hallway, you saw Dean inspecting some of your familyâs photos on a nearby table. He appeared deep in thought, slightly distraught. The tall football jock in these pictures was dead and he now resided in his body. Not wanting to make Dean more self-conscious, you snuck back into your room.
âHey Dean, you can come in. I think I have things in order in here.â You called out to him as you turned on your Exbox and grabbed two controllers.
Dean entered and showed no signs of being sad again, thankfully.
âWelcome to my own little, paradise.â Waving around to your room, showing it off to its full glory.
Walking over to your desk, he picked up a model of a Panzer IV that you had been working on recently, mostly to keep your mind of your brotherâs death.
âProdigious.â Everyone in school knew Deanâs nerdy catchphrase, now it was abnormal to hear your brother utter it. âOh shoot, you donât mind, right?â
âNot at all. After all, you are a guest.â You sat down and smiled as Dean praised your craftsmanship, especially your painting skills, along giving off a lengthily explanation of the history of the Panzer IV. Once again very strange, since your brother, while he appreciated your hobbies, didnât have the slightest idea what they compromised of. Now Dean seemed, in some areas, to surpass your own knowledge.
âIf you want, I have some unopened models you can work on.â Pointing to a small stack of boxes in a corner.
Dean gasped and went over to inspect his new finds. Meanwhile, you started up Dutyâs Call, while you listened to Dean continued his lecture on the various planes and tanks of World War II you had. And your best friend Randall had told you that only old farts made models. Finally getting to the appropriate screen, you called Dean over. Several minutes later you were both intensely invested in the game. It turned out Dean was a much better player than Randall, though there were a few slip ups here in there. A few times you looked over and saw Dean get angry having to deal with your brotherâs much bigger hands, clearly not used to the strength and ruggedness of them. That didnât stop him from racking up the kills and dominating each match.
âMan you are good.â Turning over to Dean, the two of you high-fived each other.
âYou arenât too shabby either Tim.â Dean smiled, but looked sheepishly on your brotherâs handsome face.
Your eyes lingered a little too long and there was an air of awkwardness. Coughing, you tried to break the silence, thankfully the next match started. Never in a million years would you have ever seen your brother play Dutyâs Call. While he hadnât seen video games as bad, he had always preferred staying outside and practicing on his sports instead . Now he was right next to you, and on top of it kicking your ass.
Eventually, there came to be a match where Dean faced off someone better. He started to get worked up. This mostly involved getting up, yelling at the other player for cheap-shots, and jumping up and down. Looking over again, though secretly, you saw your brotherâs bulge bounce up and down through the motion. This was not good. Feeling a tightness in your pants, you did the classic leg over leg to hide your boner. Just when you thought you forgot about this morning, the images started to come back. That adonis was sitting right next to you. Steadily your own skills got worse, as your concentration moved on to more⌠sexually simulating ideas.
âTim, come on, what are you doing?â Dean yelled at you. âStop dying and start killing.â
As the match came to an end, Dean had barely edged over his online rival and triumphantly did a little dance, which looked extra ridiculous in your brotherâs body. Definitely not masculine or sportsmanlike.
âDamn, that was good. No thanks to you. Just when I thought we could be the dream team.â He mockingly said to you. âWhat happened? I mean you were a machine, but thenâŚ.â
Fortune favored you, as a message appeared on the screen. Randall had just signed online and invited you to a match. Hearing his voice, you quickly grabbed your own headset. The two of you talked, meanwhile Dean continued his domination and trash-talking. You tried to stay on track, getting a few kills here and there, but your brotherâs bulge jostling around was distracting, even hidden underneath that sweatpants.
When the match ended, of course with Dean on-top, Randall spoke up. âTim, is that your brotherâs voice I hear? You bet me a million dollars that he would never touch a controller. But really what the hell? Is he playing?â
Dean looked over at you as you gulped. You must have looked like a deer in the headlights. He seemed perplexed, as he waited for the next match to start, unaware of Randallâs question. Did you tell the truth or lie to Randall? There was no way your brother would be caught dead playing any video game, let alone Dutyâs Call. But on the other hand Dean seemed like a pro.
âNah, Randall, I think he is calling me. Probably wants me to throw some ball with him.â Giving off a forced laugh to hide your nervous reply.
âMan, I swear I heard him say telling you to concentrate on the game. Must have been a shitty connection.â You gave off a sigh of relief. Looked like Randall had accepted that answer.
Turning back over to Dean, you got a sight certainly to behold. While your brotherâs blue eyes were concentrated deeply on the screen, one of his meaty hands was scratching his crotch. The hand came out and wiped some moistness off his shirt, then returned to its absentmindedly scratching.
âUhhhâŚDeanâŚ.â
Coming to the realization of what he had been doing, Dean became flushed. âSorry, bad habit. My mother scolded me all the time because of it. I have to remember harder now, because you knowâŚâ
He waved down his body. âA grown man canât be⌠scratching his balls, a teenager might have a little more leeway.â
Playing a few more matches, Dean fell on your bed and tossed the controller off the side, clearly content. âThanks, Tim I needed that. First time since the accident that I have felt like myself. Though these damn calluses did not help. Get in the damn way. Makes me want to lotion and soften my hands up.â
He held up his hands to show off his calluses. Your brother had always trained so hard, usually tearing tendons and breaking bones, but he always got back stronger. Those calluses were proof of his hard work, now Dean wanted to get rid of them. Another part of your brother would be gone forever. No, he wasnât a replacement for your brother. He was gone and now Dean had to make his own choices, rather than try to live up to your brotherâs life. You had to accept that, even though it hurt.
âGlad to help.â
â
For the next few hours you showed Dean off your model making supplies and paints, comic book, video game, and movie collection, that he was free to use, and debated the finer details of comic book continuity. There was a small break to order and eat pizza, which the both of you scarfed down, even though a piece of grease pizza and soda was the last thing your fit brother would eat. Part of you wanted to remind Dean that he had to keep his body in shape for appearanceâs sake, but he could have this small piece of normalcy. Naturally your discussion during lunch was familiar grounds of nerd culture. Eventually the talk lead to if the newest War of the Stars movie would be good, especially after those awful prequels, but was stopped when the doorbell rang. Who could this be? Making your way to the door, you opened the door to find an unexpected guestâŚ
Opening the door revealed an unexpected face, Henry Detmer, one of the proclaimed nerds of your high school and the closest thing that Dean had to a friend, as far as you were aware of. Henry was on the shorter and heavier side. From an eyeball estimate you guessed him to be around 5'6" and probably weighed around 200 lbs. Due to his weight he was always out of breath and wheezing, thus got the nickname of Wheezy at school. Zits galore adorned his face, making it look like his face had an awful sunburn until you realized the real reason. You wondered what he was doing here along with how he knew your address. Part of you was tempted to close the door on his face until he talked up.
âHiâŚ.uhhâŚTim, I was wonderingâŚâ He asked demurely, clearly nervous at what he was saying. âI was wondering if DeanâŚ.I meanâŚif your brother was home.â
Shit, Dean somehow must have told Henry of his situation. It made sense. With his family gone, the only real connection to his old life was the person standing in front of your house.
âSure, I will go get himâŚ.can you go sit in the living room.â You waved your hand inside and pointed to an adjacent room. Closing the door behind Henry and making sure he followed your orders, you headed back to the kitchen.
Entering the kitchen you came upon Dean fondling your brotherâs pecs. He moved them up and down, then pinched where your brotherâs nipples should be, closing his eyes as he gave off a small moan. That damn erection came back. Your presence was still unnoticed. What did you do in this type of situation? No, this wasnât the time for pleasantries. You needed to find out why Henry was here.
âDean, Henry Detmer is here, why is he here?â Demanding in an authoritative, slightly annoyed voice that he was feeling up your brotherâs body.
Dean jumped up the air, immediately putting his hands down and turning a beet red. Damn straight he should be embarrassed. He had done a lot worse this morning, but at least that was in the privacy of his own room.
âI can explainâŚâ Dean stammered off having been caught red-handed. âWhat would you do in thisâŚ.â
âI donât care about this, at least for now. Why is Henry here?â
âTim, I had to tell someone. Henry is all I had left. Sure your father has been helpful visiting me every day, but I needed someone who really knows me. If you were in my situation wouldnât you tell your friend, the one you are always with.â
Closing your eyes, you realized if you were in a similar situation, one of the first people you would tell, after your family of course, would be Randall. The two of you had been friends for most of your life. A friendship that would last the rest of your life. Obviously Dean and Henry had that same connection. Sighing, you nodded, understanding the bond between friends.
âWell, he is waiting in the living room if you want to see him.â
Resolving that issue for now, not wanting to bring up that other one for now, the two of you walked into the living room, where Henry waited. Henry stood up from the couch and walked over to Dean, inspecting his new body at first. Tears streamed down from his eyes as he hugged your brotherâs body. âDean I thought you were honestly dead. I was so angry at you. I thought you had left me all alone.â
The three of you talked for a while. Henry and Dean gave an explanation of how Henry came to know of Deanâs new life. While in the hospital Dean had called Henry, which took major convincing to make him believe what had happened. Though they were afraid of what might happen if Henry showed up to the hospital asking for your brother, so they made a promise to meet when Dean arrived back to your house. But why keep it a secret from your father and you? Dean wasnât ready to tell either of you. Your father, due to seeing his sonâs body latch onto a life he didnât know. You, because they didnât know if they could trust you yet. After this morning, Dean trusted you, which let Henry trust you.
Thirty minutes later, the pair asked if they could have some private time alone, which you allowed them. Henry and Dean went off to his room, while you went to your own room.
For the next hour, you returned to playing Dutyâs Call. You briefly thought about doing some of your homework, but that could wait until Sunday. Eventually you quit the game in disgust as round after round happened where you were dominated by the same 12 year old. His screeching had finally proved to be too much as he repeatedly called you a noob. Collapsing on the your bed, you looked up to your ceiling. Looked like another person had been brought into the fold of knowing the truth behind Dean and your brother. Henry could be trusted, but what if Dean told the wrong person. Imagine the news blitz that would happen. Especially when Doctor Kerry said that the operation was technically illegal, remembering the mountain of paperwork that your father had to sign. Most likely Dean would be whisked away like an animal by the government, never to be seen again.
Heading back downstairs to get a glass of water, you realized that hadnât heard Henry leave. Was he still here? The clock in the kitchen said the time was 3:00 pm. There would be another two hours until your father came home. Probably be a good idea to tell Dean, in case he wanted to keep Henry a secret.
Stopping in front of his door, you could hear a familiar sound, a soft moan. A moan that you had heard earlier this morning. As your thoughts drifted off to your brotherâs ripped naked body, a tightness started to form in your pants. You sighed. Slowly you were starting to accept that your hormones were too much. Knocking on the door, trying to give a chance for Dean to clean up from his self-pleasure, you heard a gasp, but certainly not of your brother. Wait, was Henry still here?
Slamming the door opened, you saw Dean, quite naked, on the bed with Henry, equally naked, on top of him. He was bent over sucking on one of your brotherâs pecs, while one of his hands was toying with the other free nipple. Dean, on the other hand, had his hand wrapped around your brotherâs large manhood. Anger and jealous consumed your body. Anger that Dean was using your brotherâs body in such a manner. Jealous that fat tiny Henry had gotten more experience with a guy than you had.
âSUCK ME, HENRY!â Dean screamed out, still unaware of your presence. Henry meanwhile slid down and positioned his mouth directly above your brotherâs leaking member.
You werenât going to allow this fat dweeb to violate your brotherâs body. Rushing up to the pair, you grabbed Henry by the shoulders and tossed him off Dean, before he could commit the deed. Deanâs expression turned from pleasure to one of horror. Quickly he grabbed the sheets and covered your brotherâs body. Meanwhile Henry, who had been flung straight across the room despite his wait, was completely stunned. Seeing the opportunity, you grabbed his shirt and propped him up against a wall and started to form a fist. The fist was raised then brought down. Nearly.
âTim, donât. It isnât his fault.â Your brotherâs raspy voice was the only thing that stopped you from pummeling him.
Turning around, Dean walked over and held back your punch. Your hand unclenched and lowered, then pointed at Henry, who was now bawling and holding his hands over his face.
âYou better leave.â
Henry grabbed his belongings and scurried out the door. You followed him to make sure that his pimply face left. Locking the door behind him, you were on the warpath now. Dean had a lot of explaining to do. Sensing this, he was dressed in the kitchen.
âTim, you donât understandâŚ.this body has needsâŚI mean your brother must have had a high sexdri-â
âNo, you need to shut the hell up for a second.â You cut off Dean before he could finish. âI donât care who initiated that. You canât be using my brotherâs body like your own personal sex toy. You need to respect who he was. Not just a lump of muscles and cock at your ready disposal. I know what you did this morning. Masturbating yourself. Pawing at my brotherâs chest like a pervert and horny dog. And now you almost let that fatass Henry suck you off!â
Dean turned a beet red, unaware that you had observed him running the paces with your brotherâs body earlier this morning. He put his head down in shame. âHenry is my friend. I wanted him to help me. You donât know. This body has an itch. And I canât scratch it. Maybe your brotherâs girlfriend Allison could have helped, but sheâs gone. I canât give this body what it wants.â
âHave some damn self-respect!â
âTim, you arenât going to tell your father what happened?â
You should after seeing how Dean was using your brotherâs body. âNo.â
Completely disgusted, you stormed back off to your room.
Original: âThe Ultimate Transplantâ Interactive Storyline on Writing.com
