"Welcome To the New You Courtney!"

Welcome To the New You Courtney!”

By

Jamey O’Donnell

He stared at the box wrapped in brown paper, sitting on the card table across the room from him, it being the most obvious thing to look at, as the room was practically empty. There was the old metal and wooden office chair he was tied to, a small oriental area rug on the floor, the box and the table, and a fancifully framed mirror on the far end of the oblong room he was in.

That was it. Nothing more.

It was a strange room with strange lighting.

Recessed lighting behind the ornate floral designed cove base where the walls and the ceiling met, giving off a fluorescent glow, and the walls were covered with an old, cheap wood veneer paneling better suited to a recreation room of a family basement.

Chester Wadsworth had no idea where he was or how he got there. All he knew was that his head was splitting, and he had a terrible itch around his neck that he couldn’t scratch.

He tried not to think about it, because the more he thought about it, the more it itched.

His eyes had just opened less than a couple minutes ago, so he figured he’d been unconscious.

How long he’d been out was anyone’s guess.

For a few seconds, he couldn’t even remember his name or who he was, but it all came back to him after a minute. Now he was trying to retrace his steps to figure out where he was and how he got there.

The room had no windows, so he hadn’t a clue to whether it was day or night.

His neck was also sore. He couldn’t even crane his neck down to see the rest of his body, but he knew for damn sure he was tied to that chair he was sitting in. He tried moving his hands that were behind him and he could not, not even a tiny bit.

The itch was really starting to annoy him.

His throat was dry as a bone in the desert and he was desperate for a drink of water.

“Hello?” he whispered, barely even audible to his own ears, and the words hurt his throat as he whispered them. Whatever the hell had happened to him, it sure didn’t feel good around his head and neck area.

“Hello?” he whispered again, this time a little louder and with a little less pain. “Is anyone there?”

His voice sounded kind of girly to him, he thought. He was really in some serious hurt.

He was pretty sure he was alone, since he was sitting toward the back of the room and his peripheral vision seemed to be better than he ever remembered it, and all he could see in there with him were the objects mentioned earlier.

There was a door with a small circular window, about the size of a face to look into, and blackness on the other side of the glass.

The more conscious he became, the more he started to panic.

“What in the hell am I doing in here? Where am I? What is wrong with me?” were the thoughts running through his gray matter.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a light come on through the window on the door, then he saw the face of a middle aged man wearing glasses looking through the window at him for a few seconds, then the face went away.

“Hey!!!” he managed to speak in a half yell, but really hurting his throat that time.

“Come here! Where am I?” he yelled again.

The face on the other side of the window appeared again, with a finger pressed to his lips, as if to shoosh Chester, then the door slowly opened and the face appeared as a head around the door.

“Don’t yell. Speak softly. Your sutures will not be able to take the strain” said the man behind the door.

Then the man walked into the room, shutting the door behind him.

He was a portly man about 6 foot tall, wearing a suit under a white lab coat, with very shiny patent leather shoes, and sporting a stethoscope hanging from his neck, appearing to be a doctor of some sort.

“You’ve been unconscious for almost two weeks and in bed. Today we decided to sit you up and bring you around.” said the Doctor.

“Who in the fuck are you, and why have I been unconscious? What sutures?” asked Chester.

Just as Chester asked him that question, he noticed a very sharp, painful pang coming from his waist area, but his neck was too sore to look down to see what it could be.

“The best way to answer your questions will be for you to first look in the box. In order for you to do that, I will have to untie you, but for that to happen, I will have to bring in a couple of my associates. Please sit tight, pardon the pun, and I will return shortly” said the Doctor as he left the room, shutting the door behind him.

The pain around Chester’s mid-section was starting to become unbearable, and his neck was itching so badly, he felt like he could cut his head off to make it stop.

The doctor returned to the room, followed by two men, both in their mid to late 20’s, dressed in Oshkosh overalls, and both men appeared to be twin brothers, both suffering from a severe case of Down’s syndrome.

“These are my son’s Oscar and Willard. They do not speak, so don’t bother speaking to them. They are going to tie a belt around your chest and around the chair to prevent you from falling out of the chair when I untie your hands. Besides, the shock of what you are about to see will most likely cause you to faint, so for your protection, I must insist on the belt holding you on to the chair." said the Doctor.

At the instruction of the doctor, the retarded men strapped a big black belt made of nylon around Chester’s chest and around the chair, buckling it tight behind him, securing him to the chair. The doctor then walked behind Chester and untied his hands, then walked back to the front of him.

“Your hands are untied. Try to move your arms around to the front of you” said the Doctor.

Chester moved his arms from behind him, and winced as his arms started to fill back up with blood that had been cut off with them strapped behind him, holding them up to see for himself.

At that point, the doctor instructed his sons to move the card table over to Chester, in order for him to have full access to the cardboard box.

“The answers to your questions are in the box.” said the Doctor.

Just as the Doctor had spoken, Chester reached up to scratch the itch around his neck and was puzzled, then horrified to find stitching all across his neck under his Adam’s apple.

“What the hell have you done to me?” Chester whined.

“Look in the box” answered the Doctor.

Chester reached across the table to pull the box closer to him and tipped the box down so he could see inside, and what he saw caused him to faint immediately.

What Chester saw was his own head in the box, surgically removed from his body.

The Doctor began to administer smelling salts, bringing Chester around, and then he ordered his sons to remove the mirror off of the wall of the far side of the room and bring it to him.

The men set the mirror on the table between Chester and the box, positioning it so Chester could see himself, and he screamed, this time loudly, dramatically hurting his throat,

Instead of himself, he saw the head of a beautiful woman with platinum blond hair sewn on to his shoulders, with all the facial expressions that Chester was making, including all of the eye and mouth movements. There was, however, a shaved spot just above her right forehead and another on the left side of her head just above her ear, with both areas stitched up.

“You have made history Mr. Wadsworth, and you should be very proud. In the name of science, I congratulate you,” said the Doctor.

Chester felt like the room was spinning and he was about to enter a different dimension, thrust into the worst nightmare his brain could never imagine, leaving him incapable of speech.

“Welcome to your new you. Your name is now Courtney. Courtney Stodden. In case you don’t know who you are, you are an internet star, famous for marrying a B list actor in Hollywood old enough to be your grandfather. You were kidnapped close to a month ago in Los Angeles, and brought down here to the jungle of Oaxaca, Mexico, to my estate.

The person you use to be, Chester Wadsworth, was also kidnapped from Ontario, California, and brought down here as well.

I have transplanted her head and lower extremities on to your upper torso, which has never been done successfully in human history…until now.

In order for you to have the same memories as you did before, I had to remove your frontal and temporal lobes and transplant them into Ms. Stodden’s brain, which is now your brain.

This was the first part of the procedure.

The same surgery was done with your brain, taking her frontal and temporal lobes out of her head and putting them in yours. This was done so she would still have her memories and personality. Unfortunately, the poor girl died of heart failure during the procedure, making her surgeries unnecessary going forward, so she is essentially dead.

You, however, survived every step of the way.

After the brain surgeries were complete, and enough time had passed, you were then ready for the head and lower extremity transplant, which took a total of 41 hours to complete, and here we are now to see our masterpiece, and that would be you Courtney. You are our masterpiece.” said the Doctor. “Your upper body and your brain seem to be working perfectly, but you will require months of therapy to regain full mobility. The question still remains on how your lower torso will react to the surgery.”

All the while the doctor was talking, Chester was affixed to the mirror, watching his expressions change, his eyes blink, and the tears flow down his now beautiful cheeks.

The doctor then cut away the shirt, exposing Courtney’s new hairy chest, with her beautiful head sewn on to it, causing her to cry, and then scream.

The doctor then reached down and removed the scrubs she was wearing, pulling them off of her, leaving her completely naked now in the chair.

The sons were then instructed by the doctor to tilt the mirror down so Chester could see his lower half, and once again, he fainted.

What he saw first was that his penis was gone and replaced with a vagina, and his once muscular hairy legs had been replaced with two beautiful slender and shapely womanly legs, and presumably the ass to go with them.

The doctor had created a combination of beauty and the beast, but the beauty was now tainted with the body of a 35 year old truck driver better suited to drinking beer and smoking cigarettes.