Date: Sat, 10 Jul 2010 07:59:17 -0700 (PDT)
From: Henry Brooks <hankster1430@bellsouth.net>
Subject: Who Am I  Chapter 4

Who Am I?

Chapter Four

When I woke up Sunday morning, I found myself nested up against Stuart's
rounded butt.  Stuart was either fast asleep or pretending to be asleep.
My first inclination was to pull away, but I was beginning to feel so
helpless, hopeless and alone in the world, that snuggling with Stuart was
comforting to me.  I had a morning woodie when I woke, but when I realized
what was happening, I quickly lost it.  If Stuart was playing possum, I
wondered if he was disappointed that I lost my erection.  I lay against
Stuart for awhile, and finally pulled away and did my morning things.  When
I came out of the bathroom, freshly shaved and showered, Stuart was sitting
up in bed.

He smiled at me and I smiled back.  "You smell like a whore," he told me.

"It wasn't meant for you," I answered.  "I'm trying to entice some gorgeous
dame."

"Seriously," Stuart said.  We haven't gone to church in ages.  I'd like to
go today to pray for your recovery, I'd really like it if you went with
me."

Once again, I told Stuart the truth as I saw it, and I knew how hurt he
was.  "I don't know if I want to get cured, Stuart.  I'm functioning in my
profession; my income has not been impacted, and I'm straight.  Think about
it.  I might meet Mrs. Right and have children.  Wouldn't that be
fantastic?"

Stuart looked crest fallen.  "Yes," he said.  "We've talked about adopting
for years.  I'm sorry now, that we never got past the talking stage.  If we
had kids together, you might want to stay with me."  He started to get out
of bed.  He looked so sad, my heart went out to him.  I nearly grabbed him
to hug him.  Nearly!

"I'll go to church with you," I said simply.  It didn't seem to boost his
spirits at all.

In the end I was glad I went with him.  I didn't recall any of the ritual,
but it came back to me as the service progressed.  I wished that my
personal memory would respond as well.  After church, the two of us went to
brunch and then we decided to take a long walk in Central Park.  I wasn't
sure at first where the park was, but as usual Stuart guided me.  I was
going to need his guidance for the foreseeable future, and notwithstanding
my threats of leaving him, I knew I couldn't do that for quite a long time.

We found a park bench and watched a boys' soft ball game for a couple of
hours.  We talked to each other about everything.  Stuart never tired of
filling me in on my prior life.  He always made sure to tell me about some
of the good times we had enjoyed together.  It was hard for me to imagine
engaging in some of the sex acts he spoke about, but at least I wasn't
gagging anymore when he spoke of such matters.  I still had no desire to
have sex with Stuart, but I knew that I would be devastated if I lost his
friendship.  The knowledge that I couldn't leave him for awhile was
reinforced in my head.

Shit, it suddenly occurred to me, we never went looking for twin beds.
Well OK, next weekend!  I wondered if subconsciously, I didn't want to.
For sure, Stuart didn't want to.

"What would you like for dinner?" Stuart suddenly asked me.

"Do you do all the cooking?" I asked.  Stuart nodded.

"I'm sorry," I said.  "I really have to learn how to cook so that I can
pitch in."

"I really don't mind," Stuart said.  "Cooking is kind of my hobby.  You
don't have to learn."

"Nevertheless, I want you to teach me.  Do you have any ideas for tonight?
We can start our lessons immediately."

Stuart started to laugh and grabbed my hand.  He dropped it just as
suddenly, realizing that he had disobeyed my conditions.  I wouldn't tell
him, but I really didn't mind.

"We'll start easy," Stuart said.  "I had planned on pork chops with baked
sweet potato and applesauce tonight."  Just to refresh your memory, it's
one of your favorite dinners."


The next morning we were the first ones in Dr. Lundgren's office.  He
hadn't arrived yet, and when he did, he rushed into his office, looked at
us, held up two fingers and said, "I'll be with you in two."

Five minutes later he called us into his office.  "Sorry to be late," he
said.  "I was all dressed and ready to go to work, but my partner got
frisky and seduced me back into bed."  Stuart laughed, and I winced."

"Sorry," Lundgren said, addressing me, "I think of you as a gay man and you
think of yourself as straight.  I'll have to watch myself."

I was impatient with Dr. Lundgren's sexual escapades so I said, "About my
MRI, Doc, what's the verdict?"

He looked first at me and then at Stuart, then back to me.  I felt like
strangling him.  Finally he spoke.  "I guess you did hit your head on the
night table after all.  You have a tiny blood clot in the portion of the
brain that is associated with memory.  We can dissolve the clot with a
laser beam, but I don't know if your memory will be restored, and for
certain, I don't know what will happen to your sexual orientation.  But
like I told you at your MRI, that part of the brain must also have
something to do with determination of sexual orientation.  Whether you
revert to homosexuality or not, you have set my course in life for the
foreseeable future.  I am going to do research on that part of the brain,
using straight and gay brains.  Who knows?  I may discover the genetic
cause of homosexuality.  But I digress.  I'd like to operate on Wednesday."

Stuart grabbed my hand and smiled at me.  I pulled away.

"What if I don't want to remove the clot?  What if I want to remain
straight?" I asked.

"I can understand how you feel," Lundgren said, "but that's not an option.
It's too dangerous.  The clot could come loose from the brain tissue,
travel through your blood stream and through your heart.  That could cause
a stroke or worse, death."

Poor Stuart gasped.

"You say that you can't guarantee that my memory would be restored?" I
asked.

"I have no way to tell if any of the memories of your former life will be
restored.  The only thing I know for sure is that the clot must be removed.
It's a simple procedure.  We'll drill two tiny holes in your cranium and
insert a camera and a laser beam to melt the clot away.  If I operate
Wednesday, you can probably go home Thursday evening or Friday at the
latest.  I would urge you not to hesitate in removing this potential
killer."  Dr. Lundgren knew how to be graphic and get to the heart of the
matter.

"Please," Stuart said, "do it."

"For your information," Dr. Lundgren said, "Stuart is your medical
surrogate.  We can get a court order and declare that you are not able to
make your own decision in this matter, and the court can order the
procedure."

I was truly conflicted about what to do, but the simple truth was that I
had a blood clot in my brain and it was dangerous.  I knew I had to have it
out, and I nodded my assent.  Stuart let out a sigh of relief and Lundgren
said, "Good."

"Dr. Sharpe's internal examination is fresh and I can use it as a valid
medical clearance for surgery."  He reached into a drawer of his desk and
pulled out a sheet of paper.

"Here are instructions for neurosurgery," he said.  Follow them, and get to
the hospital no later than 7 AM on Wednesday morning.  I'll see you in the
surgery.

When we left the doctor's office, we took separate cabs to work.  I told
Ben that I would not be in the rest of the week, and would have to play the
following week by ear.  I cleaned up as many of my cases as I could, and
turned the rest over to one of the associates.  Before I left for the day,
Ben hugged me and wished me well.  He promised to come see me on Thursday
morning because he didn't think it was wise to visit on the day of the
operation.

Stuart arranged for Tuesday to Thursday off, with Friday a possibility.  We
both put in a full day trying to tie up loose strings.  Stuart got home
only five minutes before me.  When he saw me, he forgot his promise.  He
wrapped his arms around me and started to sob.  I let him.

"I'm going to be just fine," I told him.

"May I say something?" Stuart asked.

"Sure."

"I don't care what you are praying for, but I'm praying for you to come
back to me and to fully share OUR bed again."

I still hoped that somehow I would remain straight, and move into the
mainstream, but I couldn't say that to Stuart.  "Che sera," I muttered, but
then I added, "Stuart, straight or gay, I want to be your friend forever."

Stuart gave one heartbreaking sigh and ran out of the room.

He cried all evening and when we went to bed, he was still not himself.  I
couldn't help it.  I broke our rules.  I took him in my arms and literally
rocked him to sleep.  I was very careful not to let my cock touch any part
of his body.


When Dr. Lundgren came out of the operating room, he went right to the
waiting room to find Stuart.  He put his hand on Stuart's shoulder and
said, "The operation was routine and went just fine.  Except for a tiny
area of shaved hair, he's going to look like himself.  They have taken him
to ICU.  The law permits only immediate family into the ICU, so I told them
that you were his half brother, and you can visit him anytime.  He was
awake during the procedure and I am sure he can talk to you now."

"But Doctor," Stuart asked, "What about his memory and his sexual
orientation?"

"It's too soon to tell.  He's still foggy.  Just be patient.  We'll know
something in a few hours."

Stuart ran to the ICU and found the nurse's station.  He asked where I was.
The nurse consulted my chart and asked, "Are you his brother Stuart?"
Stuart nodded and the nurse winked.  She obviously knew the score.  She
personally took him to my cubicle.

"He just dozed off," she said, "but you can sit at his bedside if you'd
like."

"I'd like," Stuart said.

As the nurse left, she drew the curtain around the bed.  Stuart kissed me
on the forehead, and sat down in a chair beside my bed.  He took my hand
closest to him and squeezed it tightly.  He wasn't exactly sure, but he
thought that maybe he felt a slight squeeze back.

I continued to doze for over an hour.  At times Stuart thought that I was
going to awaken, but each time I would slip off into sleep again.  It was
Stuart who finally dozed off just as I awoke.  We were still squeezing each
other's hands.

I looked around me.  The curtains were drawn around my bed, affording me
and Stuart complete privacy.  Stuart was squeezing my hand and his head was
resting at the edge of the bed.  He was completely asleep.  I struggled to
remember where I was and what brought me here.  For sure I wasn't home.  At
home Stuart would be in the bed with me.  With my free hand I began to
stroke, Stuart's soft, silky blonde hair.  Stuart stirred and woke up.

"What's up, stud?" I asked.

"Not much, super stud," Stuart answered.  "I haven't been getting much
lately."

"Well, we'll have to take care of that won't we?"  I took Stuart's hand,
which was squeezing mine, and I laid it on my crotch.

"Thank you God," Stuart sighed.  "My honey's back."

As soon as Stuart got me home, he put me to bed and he lay down beside me.
We were both naked now as in the old days, and Stuart began to fondle me.
That first evening at home, I was not very mobile.  I could only lie flat
on my back and let Stuart do all the work.  Stuart was happy to do so.  He
let his tongue explore the length of my body. He was in no hurry.  He had
all night.  His tongue lingered, for as long as he could manage, on every
inch of my flesh.  It was Stuart and not me who finally could bear it no
longer and he finally began to suckle my balls and he ran his tongue up and
down my shaft.  I could only moan and groan in pleasure as I got harder and
harder.

"I know that I prevented you from doing this when I was sick?" I said.  "I
was crazier than I thought."

Stuart didn't bother to comment.  He was too busy sucking my cock.  His
tongue caressed my head, and he licked up and down the shaft.  My balls
began to constrict, and Stuart withdrew.  He covered my cock with a thick
coat of goo, and sat himself down on it.  He pushed down until my blessed
thing was all the way up his ass.  He bounced up and down until I came
gushing inside of him.  Most of the cum was subjected to gravity and oozed
out of his ass.  Stuart reached under himself, and scooped up some of the
cum.  He offered it to me, and I ate it.

I was not able to reciprocate at this time, but Stuart could care less.  A
few days later, I was able to totally satisfy him in every way.  Now he was
happy again, in and out of the bedroom.

One month later, I went to Dr. Lundgren's office for a follow up visit.

"There is something you need to know," I said.

"Sounds serious," Lundgren said.

"It probably is.  It's a confession meant only for your ears.  Nobody else
must know.  Agreed?"

He nodded.

"I'm not cured," I stated as simply as I could.  "I can't remember my past
life and I'm still straight."  The doctor opened his mouth to speak, but I
held up my hand to silence him.

"The day before surgery," I continued, "I was packing some stuff to take to
the hospital.  In a dresser drawer, buried under some personal junk, I
found a journal.  It was mine.  I don't think Stuart knows about it.  If he
did, he would have urged me to read it to help me regain my memory.  It
spans the years from the day I met Stuart until just shortly before I lost
my memory.  I read it, and it made me see how much we meant to each other,
how much I had loved him once.  Finally I realized how devastated Stuart
must be at the change in me.  I was destroying his life.  But more than
that, the journal filled in gaps in my life that Stuart couldn't; like my
feelings about my parents; like how lucky I was to have met Ben Gross; the
fact that I had the hots for him, which would forever go unrequited, and
stuff like that.

"When I woke up after surgery and saw Stuart sleeping on my bed, I was
overwhelmed with love for him.  I knew without a shadow of a doubt, that he
was the best person, the only person I could share my life with.  I vowed
to have sex with him and live with him as a couple.  Closeted gay men say
that they can make love to a woman if they fantasize that they are with a
man.  Well, I fantasize that I am with a woman when Stuart and I make love.
He's a fantastic lover and he can do things to me no woman would, but that
still doesn't mean that I would rather be with him than a beautiful woman.
The bottom line is that sex is only a small part of a relationship, and I
can't think of anyone I'd rather have as a companion in the journey through
life, than Stuart."

"Why are you telling me all this?" Lundgren asked.

"Because I thought it would have a profound effect on your research."

"Yes, of course it would.  I appreciate your telling me.  Do you think you
will ever tell Stuart?"

I shook my head.  "I love him too much," I said.  "I could never hurt him
again."

Dr. Lundgren dropped his head as if it was hurtful to ask the next
question.  "Closeted gay men often cheat on their wives with other men.
Have you cheated or do you think you will cheat with women?"

"In all honesty, Doc, I have already cheated once, and I know I will
continue to cheat.  In my defense, I keep Stuart happy in the bedroom.  I
know what he likes and I do it for him.  I just pretend he's a beauty
queen, whom I just crowned Miss America.  We make each other happy just
being together, and I don't feel guilty."

"Good luck, pulling it off ," Dr. Lundgren said.

As for Dr. Lundgren, his research kept running up against brick walls.  He
had plenty of volunteers who wanted to go straight, so to speak.  No matter
how he stimulated that section of the brain, the subject's sexual
orientation remained the same.  After ten or so years, he concluded that I
was an anomaly, and he abandoned his research.

What has become of me?  I grow fonder of Stuart every day.  To use that
corny old line, he completes me.  There are even times, I don't have to
fantasize that he's a woman to get it up for him.  The anticipation of the
way he is about to make me feel is erotic enough, and produces the desired
effect.  But maintaining the erection remains a problem.  I have to resume
fantasizing that I am with a woman, in order to continue our love making.

While Stuart more than satisfies my lust, I have three lovely, willing,
female fuck buddies, who satisfy the emotional part of my sex life.  None
of them is aware that I live with a man, and I will hide that from them as
long as I can.

Every day I ask myself if I can hide the truth from Stuart forever.  Then
one night, just a few days ago, as Stuart slept in my arms, I had an
epiphany.  Stuart is too smart to fool.  Surely there is a difference in my
passion, and in my ability to satisfy another man sexually, than when I was
gay.  Surely Stuart would be aware of the difference, no matter how subtle.
I am convinced that Stuart is aware of the truth, and is willing to accept
crumbs for my love and companionship.  When I suspected that he knew the
truth, my love for him became even deeper.  I hugged him tighter to me,
crying myself to sleep, knowing that I could never be the man he so
desperately desired and deserved.


The End