Goiter Head Page 2
With that, she gestures to someone in the hallway outside of our hospital room, and soon enough Elliot and I find ourselves on a gurney, being wheeled into the large operating suite. I look up and see that the gallery is full of the other healthcare professionals who work at the Cave.
My thoughts begin to drift, and I think about the fact that the biggest problem with having only a head and no agency is that the only things that truly belong to you are your thoughts. I have dreams about a full-bodied life, but I've never shared them with Elliot. Even now, as I've been given entry into a magical wish-granting operating suite in an underground cave, I don't trust it. Not quite yet.
I have to live (or, die, really) with the fact that if today does not go well, there will be things about me that my twin brother will never know. Things I don't want to share with him unless I can look him in the eyes while standing on my own two feet.
Holy shit. There's a very real possibility that I'll have my very own feet by the end of all of this.
The anesthesiologist starts the IV for the fluids that will make Elliot and I dream while being disconnected from one other. We follow her instructions and begin counting backwards from one hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven…
God, I hope this ends up with me having feet.
3.
Arye
Looking down at Elliot and Bernard from the gallery is a fucking trip. I'm still technically in recovery from my little bout with torture, and they asked to have an agent on standby just in case things go wrong. The thing that could go wrong is currently floating in a glass encased pod, looking very much like a smaller version of Elliot.
A delectable nurse who I haven't fucked yet looks down at my cowboy boots as she brushes by me to take a seat in the gallery. Her lips quirk into a half-smile, and I'm pretty sure I know who I'll be doing tonight. I don't call these my lucky boots for nothing.
Dr. Wu explained the nature of the surgery to me in our pre-op conference, and while genetically washing organs and rendering them neutral for blood-typing has been around for a while, this thing floating in the pod represents something entirely new. The scientists here at the Cave have managed to genetically wash and re-purpose an entire human, and it is really fucking cool. They started with a blonde woman and have ended up with an adorable light brown-haired man. For trans folks who want it, this DNA manipulation will eventually take the place of top and bottom surgery and daily hormone injections. Still sounds a little like science fiction to me, though less Frankenstein and more Star Trek.
Only a handful of people know that this is the body of Edison's late wife. She'd stolen Hedy's soul, and Edison, who is more in love with Hedy than he cares to admit, was the one who saved Hedy's soul and returned her to her body. He's also the one who put a bullet in the head of the thief.
While the geeks on the DNA squad could have made Bernard a bit taller, the body closely matches the height that he experiences on Elliot's neck, so it was decided that it would be less disorienting to keep him at the original height.
The scientists situated around me in the gallery have all sorts of things to say about the state of the body, including the fact that, like his brother, Bernard's new body has a bit of belly. To be honest, it rankles a smidge. Our team had repurposed a body to give to a man who'd never had one, and I don't know, maybe something like that should come with a little more respect and a lot less gawking. Just my opinion.
Elliot and Bernard always looked kind of nerdy-tough with their ZZ Top beard and Elliot's broad stature, but now, looking down from the gallery with the sedative in full effect, they seem almost child-like. Elliot without a beard is smooth-skinned, sharp-jawed, and good-looking, while Bernard looks so close to death that I'm surprised he's still with us. I look over at the floating body in the pod and note the same sharp jaw and cheekbones. The DNA squad had really outdone themselves.
Dr. Wu looks up at the gallery and makes an announcement. “Folks, I am about to begin, and once I start, I cannot stop. I want to warn you that this is a rather violent-looking surgery. After I practically slice Elliot in half to get his brother out of him, we will then need to crack open Bernard's head and place the contents into this genetically modified body. There is nothing about this that will be pretty. If you have to throw up, please step out into the hallway to do so.”
Given my lack of pain and frequent run-ins with torture, I feel pretty good on the vomit front, but I am a little worried about some of the people to the left and right of me. Still, we all lean forward, forearms on our knees, straining to get as close as possible to the history being made below us.
“Let's begin," Dr. Wu says, holding out her hand for the scalpel.
4.
Bernard – 24 hours later
Off to the side I hear a rustling, but my eyelids feel a bit too heavy to move just yet. This is a sound I know intimately, the sound of my brother waking up. The really weird thing is that I'm not attached to him and the sound is coming from a few feet away. I'm a muted kind of thrilled because it means that he's survived this is horrible surgery, and so have I.
Attempting to open my eyes has me humming the Mission Impossible theme music to myself, but I keep at it until my eyelids flutter and open just a bit. The room is pleasantly dim.
Hot damn.
I can't focus my vision yet, but I can fucking blink on my own.
For the first time in my life I'm not blinking in tandem with Elliot. I'm also not in bed with him, either. He is in his own bed, blinking for himself. I also realize as I listen to his soft inhalations and exhalations that I am breathing with my own distinct rhythm, completely separate from his. My eyes tear up at the very thought of it.
I'm also suddenly aware of the sense of touch in a way that I've never considered before. For one, I'm wearing pajamas, and the sensation of cotton across bare skin is amazing. The way the hair on my legs brushes against my pant legs is incredible. Layered on top of my clothing is a blanket and the weight of it is comforting. I'm still struggling with my eyelids, but I let them rest as I take inventory of every sensation. My head nestled against the pillow, the way it supports my neck, the way breathing in and out moves my body underneath my clothing, the way my body feels lying in a soft bed. I'm wearing underwear and I'm aware of my genitals—something I look forward to exploring in the privacy of my own room. I could lay in bed all day and catalog every new feeling.
I curl my fingers in the soft sheets and realize that I have fingers, and that the tips are so fucking sensitive. I wiggle my toes and laugh, marveling at the sound of my laughter.
My fingers, my toes, my laughter.
“He's waking up,” someone says, a nurse maybe, her voice calm and reassuring.
Hedy's voice filters in from the doorway, "Bernard, how are you doing? Can you hear me?”
I was used to sounds being muffled by Elliot's beard, but now I can hear Hedy loud and clear. Blinking again several times I look up to see my shapely, gorgeous friend. “Sugar Tits! How you doin'?” I respond, lecherous by habit, not with any intent behind it.
Hedy raises a brow at me, knowing that my greeting is horseshit. In the series of sessions we had in the run up to this surgery, Elliot wore sound-cancelling headphones, and I was able to speak freely. Not sure how she'd gotten me to do it, but I'd admitted to my feelings of fear and loneliness, to my hopes and dreams for the future. Doing so had lifted such a weight from me that last week I'd plowed ahead and told her my biggest secret, the one that not even Elliot knows.
Fuck, might as well tell you, too.
I'm gay.
…I know.
Believe me, I know.
I'm gay, and for as long as I've known him, I've had a massive crush on a tall, rangy, sun-kissed Jewish guy from the Bronx with a bit of a thing for cowboy couture. #yeshomo
Yes, I know he's a playboy. I fully plan on a playboy lifestyle myself, I just
want a night in his bed.
“Yep, that's our Bernard,” Hedy responds, looking past my shoulder, her eyes sparkling.
"Goiter Head! How you doin' with that hot little body of yours?"
My body jerks in recognition of that dark Brooklyn accent, and I turn my head—because I can do that now—and Arye Hellbig is right there next to me. Arye is less than a foot away, and he called me hot.
You guys. There is a pulsing in my neck, my groin, and behind my knees, for some reason. Yeah, I'm definitely going to have to explore that, ASAP.
Arye's longish, black hair is shot with silver, as is his scruff of a beard. His skin is bronzed from hours of running ops in the Texas sunshine, and his muscles… ugh. So. Fucking. Perfect. Leanish, with enough heft to be strong. Think love child of Sam Elliot and Nyle DiMarco with piercing blue eyes. He's wearing the soft, broken-in jeans that make me weep for his ass, complete with cowboy boots and a slightly wrinkled pearl snap shirt. A small, almost delicate Star of David hangs by a thin chain around his neck, and he's fiddling with his black Stetson Gambler.
By the state of the chair, it looked like he'd actually camped out in my room, and my heart—I have my own heart now, by the way—does a little flip. Dr. Wu has been concerned about the recent security incidents, and she insisted that an agent stay with each patient. I am inordinately pleased that my protection duty includes Arye.
Hedy and I keep up the charade with funny comments and harmless flirting, and Arye joins in, making both of us laugh. Who knew that you could feel a smile down to your toes?
“Brother?” Elliot's voice sounds rough, but it brings more tears to my eyes. For the briefest moment I feel the loss of the resonance in his chest and neck when he speaks.
“Yes, Elliot? I respond, halting as I listen to my own voice. Unlike the scratchy death voice I'd had before, this one is lighter and airier. It fits with this smaller body, and I really like it.
"Wow,” Elliot replies. "You sound so much younger now." His neck is immobilized, and he can't turn to see me. I want to leap out of this bed and go over to him, but Hedy holds out her hand in a warning gesture. Arye's warm hand presses my shoulder back to the bed, and the touch sends a shiver through my entire body.
"Goiter, did I hurt you?" Arye asks, sounding concerned. I chance a look up at his face, and he's looking at me with a fond expression. I'd rather he be undressing me with his eyes, but I'll take it.
"I'm good, thanks. Just not used to be being touched." But I like it. Turning in my brother's direction, I respond, “We are only twenty-five. Of course we sound young.”
A snort comes from his direction. “True, though today I'm feeling more like eighty-five.” I can't see him, but I know for sure that there's a good-natured smirk on his face.
As we're chatting, Dr. Wu walks in with a big smile. “Gentlemen, this surgery has been a massive success. We've learned so much in working with you, and this will help generations and generations of people to live better lives.”
I feel a heat in my cheeks that I register as a blush, and it feels good to think that I could help someone else in my situation.
“We need to do some imaging of your nerve pathways, and make sure that the blood supply is good in all of your healing areas. The tech here will take you down to the imaging lab one at a time, starting with Elliot.”
The tech follows Dr. Wu, then Hedy quickly turns to follow them, and just like that my brother and I are in different rooms for the first time in our lives. And hell, they've left me alone with Arye. Any other situation and I'd be glad for the time to talk with him, but with his presence I've entirely lost control of my body. My heart is pounding, my skin is vibrating, my eyes are darting here, there, and everywhere. Sensory overload kicks into a new gear, and suddenly I can't keep my eyes open. Holy hell, I'm exhausted, and my eyes are closing faster than I can stop them. This whole having a body thing is no joke.
Arye
God, sleeping in that hospital chair nearly killed me. I'm not in any pain, of course, but my back feels like a question mark. Even so, I am glad that I am the one to watch over Bernard. Poor guy, just that little bit of interaction tuckered him out. I don't think I've ever seen any one fall asleep so quickly.
Gotta say, a lifeless body floating in liquid is very different from the living, breathing being on the bed, who is currently snoring softly. Based on what I saw in the pod, I was expecting someone a bit taller, maybe a bit broader, but the thick glass walls of the pod had magnified his size, and the small man on the bed is only an inch or two taller than Hedy. Bernard always seemed larger than life while connected to his brawnier brother, but to see him lying there, pocket-sized and vulnerable, fires up a protective instinct so strong that I want to crawl into bed with him and hold him against my chest.
Eh… that sounds far too much like cuddling for my taste.
Bernard and I always got along prior to the surgery, and frankly I was looking forward to getting to know him better without Elliot tagging along. That's no hit against Elliot, I like the man a lot, but I have a hell of a lot more in common with Bernard than I do his brother. Which is why I really should not be thinking about sending the DNA team flowers for the perfection that is Bernard's mouth.
What I need to do right now is get a grip, and ignore the fact that my mouthy, irreverent, straight pal looks like the perfect little twink. While being helpless and in need of my assistance.
Fuck, he's catnip.
“Arye? “
Bernard's voice sounds reedy and scared. I get up from my desperately uncomfortable position on the chair and lean over him, putting a broad hand against his narrow shoulder, since he seemed to enjoy that before. “Bernard, what's wrong? Are you OK? Do I need to get the doctor?”
He looks a little embarrassed, his cheeks go pink. “Shit, no. Please don't do that. I'm sorry, I just had a nightmare about drowning in water. It was the strangest thing.”
I nod leaving my hand on his shoulder. “Makes sense, your body was in that solution for quite a long time as the genetic engineering took place.”
He nods his head, thoughtful. I don't think we've ever gone this long in conversation without him cracking wise and trying to get Elliot to do something stupid for him. It's disconcerting as all get out. He shivers, and I find an extra blanket to tuck in around him. I forget that everything is new to him right now, and without thinking too much about it, I lean in and card my fingers through his hair. "It's gonna be all right, Goiter. Promise."
His breath catches with the contact, and his eyes widen. “Thank you for being here. I'm not sure that I'm allowed to say this, but it feels a little lonely not being attached to Elliot anymore.”
I should move back, or at least stop running my hands through his hair, but I don't. “Do you wish were still attached to him?”
He shakes his head and looks determined. “Absolutely not. I have my own heartbeat, my own lungs, and even my own dick. Life is really looking up; it's just going to take some adjusting,” he answers, hope and fear dancing on his tongue.
I stand up, trying to neutrally pat his shoulder instead of thinking how much I'd like to show him what he can do with that brand new dick of his. “That's what I like to hear. Keep it on the positive, my friend. Think about all the cool things you'll get to do. And with that Serum X running through you, you'll be out of this hospital bed in no time."
He nods, looking so fucking vulnerable.
Whooo, buddy. I might be in a spot of trouble.
5.
Bernard – three weeks later
Let me talk to you for a moment about masturbation. I haven't had sex yet, but if it is anything on par with masturbation then I cannot wait. Masturbation is the bomb.com.
I mean, holy shit, right?
And you know what? The more you do it, the better you get at it. My first pull session was, let's be honest, a bit of a mess. I'd forgotten about ejaculation somehow. To be fair, I was aware that Elliot masturbated, but
we had a don't look, don't listen, don't talk about it rule with that kind of thing, and I hadn't queried the details.
Bet your sweet ass I'm querying now. Masturbation is awesome.
Also? The best thing about masturbation is that you can imagine anybody in any situation in any position, ever. No one can control what's going on in your head. And the things that I have done to David Tennant, The Rock, Jason Momoa, and Shepard Smith (don't judge me), have frankly been shameful.
Word to the wise: LUBE. I'm not circumcised, and the slide of soft skin over hard cock felt so good that I didn't consider it. Mistake. Lube would have been super helpful, 'cause I am rocking some major tug burn right now, and I am not going to Dr. Fisher for that.
Anyway. My favorite go-to fantasy is still Arye. If I thought I had a crush on him before, that was just child's play. When he touched me and ran his fingers through my hair, I thought I was going to cream myself and die from my heart hammering in my chest. Damn, he turns my crank.
Speaking of which, I wonder what blow jobs are like? I'm guessing that getting them is like Christmas and the Fourth of July all at once, but I'm a little worried about the experience of giving them. Would I be any good? What about the taste?
Also? Now that I have all of my own equipment, guess who's got two thumbs and a Cocky Boys subscription? This guy. Let me tell you… the things that I am learning are fucking hot. The stuff they do with cum looks like it's fun, and I wouldn't mind exploring that. I was reading an MM romance where they called it fluid bonding, and I nearly busted a nut laughing. By the way, if masturbation is my favorite thing, then full body laughter is a close second.
Also, I really like being kind of a shorter man. After watching tons and tons and tons of porn (in between PT and therapy sessions), I can tell you for sure that I'm a bottom, and people seem to fit a little better if the top's a little bigger than the bottom. Some of the videos I've seen switch that up, and that's really hot, too. I would not mind playing around with topping on occasion, but I really do think I'm a bottom. A greedy, greedy bottom. With a drawer full of toys that I haven't been brave enough to explore.