Basket of Thoughts

Bob couldn’t believe it. The operation had been a success. He once again had use and feeling of all his limbs. His fate was not as gloom as he had started to believe it would be.

He had become a quadriplegic after falling and breaking his neck. He became a prisoner in his own body. All he could do was talk and think. He preferred the latter. That however, only drove him into depression. All he thought about was how this must be fate. He had been a shady, bum contractor who had screwed over countless people. The way the laws are, filing lawsuits against a contractor is a fruitless battle. Bob was aware of that and continued to pillage in the real estate boom at the time. He masked his financial worth by having all his investments in other people’s names. Several people had tried to sue Bob but the lawyers always told them that he had no money to go after. Truth was, Bob had plenty of money. That was how he was able move his arms and legs again.

He read of an opportunity for quadriplegics. It was a new surgery they were trying to do that they hoped could help them gain control of their limbs again. It was a hard sell because they needed funding and someone to test it on. He decided he was going to not only fund the project, but be their first test subject as well. He didn’t care what the details were he just wanted the chance to be himself again. He knew he deserved the fate he thought he was going to always have. Now he was going to take the chance to do something about it.

He had a meeting with the researchers to discuss the details of the surgery. The surgery was transplanting the head off a quadriplegic onto the body of a fresh cadaver. They would fuse the head to the body and integrate it again to the nervous system. Following the transplant they then would have to revive the whole body. The likelihood of survival on the first test was not good.

Bob didn’t care. He would rather be dead than the current state he was in. He was also intrigued by the idea of a new body. The researchers also theorized that, if the body was younger and healthier than the previous body, the potential was there for extending your life by decades. He could get back those lost years he thought. The researchers said they would contact him immediately after they felt they could do a successful human test.

He couldn’t have received the call at a better time. Bob’s body was starting to fail.

“Mr. Shay, we feel confident we can do a successful test procedure. We can come pick you up now if you would like?”

“Yes, of course!” Bob replied hoarsely.

He felt vibration, and his eyes shot open. He could feel the restraints on his arms and legs as soon as he jolted to life. It felt amazing. Even more impressive was the new body. What was now turning into a splendid day for Bob, had already been a tragedy to the Millers and the town of Dexter. Thomas, the son of Jill and Greg Miller and the high school’s senior star running back, had died earlier in the day. He had been driving behind a truck and a piece of 1 inch copper piping fell off it’s rack. It bounced off the pavement and pierced through Thomas’ windshield and through his left eye. It killed him instantly as the pipe penetrated his brain. He had been driving back home after filling out paperwork with a research program. He was a bright kid and wanted to make an impact on the world. Sure, he was a star athlete and was on the verge of leading his team to a state championship but he wanted to do more than that. The paperwork he signed was an agreement to donate his body to the cause of science. He didn’t think that his lifeless body would be back in their hands an hour and a half later.

“Mr. Shay, are you with us?” The surgeon asked.

Bob looked at the surgeon and nodded yes.

“Hold still please, while we undo the restraints.”

With the restraints off Bob sat up and moved his arms and legs at will. He couldn’t believe he now had the body of an 18 year old star athlete. Mesmerized by the fact he could move his limbs again he just stared at them in amusement. A gloved hand with a clipboard broke the focus on his limbs. He looked at the clipboard and watched as his hands took hold of it. To feel something again was surreal. He stared at the document on the clipboard but he wasn’t reading the text.

“If you can just sign below Mr. Shay.” The surgeon said.

Bob didn’t even bother to read it. He signed his name at the bottom, gleefully. It brought back memories of signing all the paperwork at house closings.

He handed the clipboard back to the surgeon.

“Very good, and just to reiterate what you signed Mr. Shay. We assume no responsibility in any possible side effects from this procedure.”

“No, of course not.” When the words left Bob’s mouth he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. The thought hadn’t crossed his mind that his voice would change. The thought left as quickly as it came as he deemed it a worthy sacrifice to be mobile again.

The surgeon noticed the initial surprised look on Bob’s face when he had spoken. “Ah yes… That was a theory we had upon successful procedure. It proves true that the vocal chords of the body over take those of the head. Glad you signed those papers first.” The surgeon let out a nervous snicker.

“It’s a small price to pay. I can’t thank you enough. You gave me my life back.” Bob replied in Thomas Miller’s voice.

“What other possible side effects do you theorize?”

“Well, let’s just hope this is the only side effect Mr. Shay. Besides, you’ve already signed the papers and we are officially not liable. Now, please excuse me. I need to journal my observations. You are also now free to leave. I will follow up with you in a week.” The surgeon turned around quickly and walked out the room.

A week had passed and Bob came back to speak with the surgeon.

“How has the first week been? Have you had any other side effects to mention other than your voice?” asked the surgeon

“It’s been amazing so far…. I can’t say it’s a bad side effect but boy, let me say I’d forgotten what it was like to have a sex drive.”

“Anything else? We can use all the details we need regarding this new surgery.”

“Just silly little things. They just started to happen. Every now and then my left eye will lose vision for a few moments and I get a piercing migraine. Once the pain subsides the vision comes back. Also, there have been a couple moments when my limbs move on their own accord.”

“Interesting.” Replied the surgeon as he wrote notes on his note pad.

“Ok, do you have anything else to add for now, Mr. Shay?”

“No, I don’t believe so. Should I be concerned about either of the side effects I did have?”

The surgeon shrugged. “We will know in due time. We shall follow up again in a month.”

Things changed drastically for Bob in the next few weeks before his follow up. The symptoms of the shooting pain and vision loss became more frequent. He also was experiencing more involuntary limb movement than he was comfortable with. He would have the same helpless feeling he had when he was a quadriplegic.

It felt a bit awkward when he had gone for a 5 mile jog with no actual input on his behalf. The worst part was he went to a house he didn’t recognize. He even tried to walk straight in but the door was locked. His arm pounded on the door. He could hear someone one walking toward the door inside. Bob could only think, what the hell am I doing?

The door opened and an attractive man in his young 20’s opened the door. He stared at Bob and asked “Hi, can I help you?”

Bob lunged forward and embraced the man. He staggered back trying to get Bob off of him but the embrace also felt familiar in a strange way.

“Who are you!? what the hell are you doing?” the man inquired, still struggling to get out of Bob’s involuntary hug.

“I’m Bob, I don’t know what’s happening!”

The man melted in his arms after hearing his voice.

“Tom, it can’t be. It can’t be.” Tears started to well up in the man’s eyes. He even reciprocated the hug.

“No, you don’t understand.” Bob declared as he felt increasingly uncomfortable embracing this young man.

“Maybe I don’t want to. Although, your face was much more attractive before. Thankfully, you’re always the bottom.” The man brought Bob inside with an excited smile.

“What’s going on here?” Bob demanded an answer. It didn’t really matter what he was thinking right now, Thomas Miller’s body was in control. His fingers frantically taking the man’s shirt off.

“I don’t know, but I like where it’s heading” the man replied.

He was now fumbling with the man’s pants and he dropped to his knees. This can’t be happening Bob thought to himself. He closed his eyes as the man entered his mouth. Bob would have been sick to his stomach but this body was no longer his to control. His only saving grace or so he thought, was the man didn’t finish.

“Let’s go downstairs, now.” The man said as he withdrew his member from Bob’s mouth.

Downstairs they went, against Bob’s accord but with Tom’s. “I’m sorry sir, I have no control of this. I don’t even know who you are!”

The man replied “I know who most of YOU is and that’s good enough for me.”

The downstairs room was a BDSM dungeon. Bob’s body willingly went over to the cuffs on the wall. He faced the the wall and before he could speak the man slapped duct tape on his mouth, then proceeded to cuff his legs and arms to the wall with no resistance.

“I missed you so much Tommy. The great thing is no one will look for you now so you can stay here with me. You don’t have to hide how you feel either. It will be you and me forever like we always talked about.” The man kissed Bob’s neck and commenced with what he had planned.

Bob was conflicted, he had feelings of joy and even moaned of pleasure as the man thrust inside him. When the man finished he unlocked the cuffs.

Bob remained in place still unable to control his body. Searing pain ripped through his body as the whip struck his back. The shock of pain that was sent through his body had given him control again as if it flipped a switch. Bob clenched his hands in anger after the feelings of violation overcame him. He turned and charged towards the man. He was greeted quickly and painfully with a quick overhand right that knocked him to the floor. Once again, he lost control of the body. The man seemed to recognize a change in body behavior and backed off from a further assault on him. The man looked at Bob, amused. Gears were clearly turning in his head. As much as Tom used to enjoy the pains in the BDSM dungeon he may need to be careful with this new rendition of him. Also, why was he continuing to look at an ugly, older man’s face? No sooner had the thought crossed his mind, he grabbed a black vinyl mask and put it over Bob’s face. The man became excited and said manically “You can stay with me forever and no one will know!”

That was exactly how Bob lived the rest of his life. He was the sex slave of Thomas Miller’s secret lover. Karma had finally caught up to Bob and after a lifetime of screwing others, he now found himself the one being screwed.