Chapter 1

“Oh, shit, my head hurts. Fred failed to mention this part of the deal. I just hope that it’s worth it in the end,” I thought.

“Jim, are you okay?” a terrified female voice next to me cried hysterically, making the pounding in my head that much worse.

“Yeah,” I answered quietly, doing a quick review of the new memories now flooding my consciousness.

I was now Jim Ladner, age fourteen, starting high school in the fall at Marcroft High School here in Anaheim. The female worrying about me was Jim’s, now my, mother Donna. She had been taking Jim to the dentist this morning for his annual dental checkup. I remembered tires screeching, my mother screaming, a sickening crunch, and being jolted right before I blacked out.

Jim’s dad, Frank, was a soils engineer for LA County. His mom worked as a volunteer in the gift shop at the same hospital that I was probably about to visit as a patient.

Jim also had a sixteen-year-old sister Amy who was two grades ahead of him. She was pretty and popular but eschewed the snobbish cliques. They got along well enough for siblings, with no major points of contention between them, although both hung out with different crowds.

Prior to becoming Jim Ladner, I was born Jacob Greene. It was fourteen years earlier in a different time as fifty-seven-year-old Jacob Greene that this all began for Jacob. Long before that, Jacob’s Uncle Fred had come back from WWII in Europe a changed man. He had lied about his age, enlisting at age sixteen. A year later, according to official reports, he nearly died when the bomber he crewed as a gunner was hit by anti-aircraft fire somewhere over Europe.

When he finally got home after the war, everyone commented about how much he had matured during his time in the military. For some unknown reason that Uncle Fred never bothered to explain to anyone, he took a shine to me and I became his favorite nephew. Everyone always teased me that I was the son he never had since he never had any children. There were many gorgeous women in his life, usually two or more at the same time, but no children.

Four of those women taught me about sex. Unbeknownst to my parents, my fifteenth birthday present from my uncle was a three-day weekend at his mansion with four women. Complete nudity was the uniform for the weekend, and all weekend, any time I got a hard-on, one or more of the women would immediately banish it for me. By the time Fred drove me to school Monday morning, I had fucked all four of the women, singly and in groups. I had fucked their pussies, mouths, tits, and asses. They also taught me the basics of seduction, as well as how to keep a woman happy, in and out of bed, once I had seduced her.

Fred rapidly became a multi-millionaire after the war, gradually drifting away from the rest of the family. In the end, I was the only one who stayed in contact with him. I was still surprised when he asked for me on his deathbed. I was even more surprised when he tried to explain what he called the Methuselah Complex.

Supposedly, it was a gift passed from person to person--eleven times so far--literally starting with Methuselah. Whoever currently possessed the gift would be reborn when they died, usually into the body of someone between the ages of eleven and fourteen who had been born around the time the dying bearer of the complex had reached puberty. The reason a particular body was chosen was unknown, and occasionally the new body was slightly older, although never older than seventeen.

The previous occupant of the body would have just died--usually from drowning, head injury, electrical shock, or something else the gift could heal without it being obvious. When the transfer took place, the previous inhabitant’s memories remained, allowing the new occupant to ease into their new life.

Fred offered the gift to me, explaining that eventually, everyone grew tired of living. This had been his fifth re-embodiment and he had lived almost three hundred years. The first two hundred fifty had been fun, but this last lifetime had finally gotten to him. Each lifetime had been much the same as the previous one, enough so that he had become bored. He was ready for the ultimate gamble, to see if there really was an afterlife.

I jumped at the chance he offered me, but only after he convinced me that he wasn’t pulling my leg. The fact that Fred had never been much of a prankster, and that he had shown an uncanny ability to pick both stocks and the winners of sporting events, also helped convince me. Who wouldn’t want the chance to do it all over again?

The transfer was quick and uneventful. I held the palm of Fred’s right hand against my forehead while he mumbled a prayer of some kind. At first, I thought he’d pulled a fast one on me, but suddenly found that I understood the words he’d just spoken.

“Congratulations, Jake. I suggest that you memorize facts starting in 1961. Know who wins all the major sporting events and pick a few stocks each year that do exceptionally well. Learn when the stock market collapses and surges, and when the prices of precious metals, oil, and other commodities jump or drop.

When I commented about being worried about remembering what to say to transfer the gift when the time came, he told me not to worry, I would remember every word of it, no matter how many years had passed. He explained how the best friend of his original embodiment had passed the gift on to him for much the same reason that he was now passing it on to me.

“With a little work and lots of thought, you’ll end up this rich, too. Just don’t get too greedy. If you make too much money gambling, you’ll piss off someone with hired guns. If you get too obvious with the stock market, the SEC will investigate you. Make enough to live on comfortably but don’t overdo it. Other than that, just enjoy life, and don’t take it too seriously,” he wheezed.

Fred died three days later with me at his bedside. He spent as much time as his condition allowed telling me of his adventures and misadventures. The thing that ate at him the most was suffering through the deaths of loved ones for the first two hundred fifty years. That was why he never married this time, and changed the beautiful women in his life frequently enough that he formed no strong emotional attachments to any of them. Personally, I thought that was a bit harsh, but the old adage about not judging someone until you walked a mile in their shoes came to mind. I realized that, if this thing actually worked, I would be walking in his shoes someday.

His sister and I were the only relatives at the funeral. He left me $250,000 and left everything else to his surprised sister. She and the rest of the family were sure I’d inherit everything. I didn’t tell her that he’d given me something far more valuable. She was just as surprised that I wasn’t upset about her inheriting most of his millions. “He gave me his friendship, his trust, and was someone I could ask about the vagaries and mysteries of life a young teenager faces. His honesty and advice kept me out of serious trouble and made me a better person,” I told her emotionally. I honestly felt that way about him even before his parting gift.

For the next fourteen years, my hobby was compiling and memorizing lists. Melody, my wife, thought it an odd hobby. I never neglected her or the kids because of my new hobby. The hobby was relatively inexpensive thanks to the internet and I did most of my research at home, so she was content. Thank God, I didn’t end up with Alzheimer’s. My beloved Melody passed away four years before me from cancer. I was lost for over a year without her. If I hadn’t had my lists to keep me occupied, I might have followed her much sooner than I did.

I spent a little money to hire a college student majoring in economics to do the stock market research for me. I explained that I wanted to write a story about time travel and wanted to know the best way to utilize prior knowledge of the markets to my best advantage. His lengthy report was significantly different from what I’d gleaned. Still, many of the individual stocks he recommended buying and holding long-term were the same ones my own research suggested. In addition, he explained about buying on margin to multiply my gains from the same amount of cash. He also covered short selling, put options, call options, and how the rules varied in each of the worldwide markets.

While I read his suggestions several times, I realized that I would never be able to remember even a tenth of what he suggested, so I stuck with memorizing a moderate list of what stocks to buy, as well as when to buy them and when to sell. His research and explanations made me realize just how much I didn’t know or understand about financial markets, which made me more nervous about using the stock market. I did memorize the list of commodities that he suggested I buy futures in. That much I already understood about investing.

Upon my death, my two sons inherited what Fred had left me. The accumulated interest had doubled the total amount by shortly before I died. They also inherited the house and everything Melody and I had managed to accumulate during our life together. Both boys had good jobs and stable families and I was sure their wives wouldn’t let them squander the money.

Sirens pulled me from my musings and back to my headache. A short time later, the ambulance was rushing me to the hospital for treatment. My worried mother clung anxiously to my hand the entire time, except when she had to let go so they could take my blood pressure.

The doctor poked, prodded, and X-rayed me for an hour before he pronounced me surprisingly fit enough to go home. He did manage to sneak in a few stitches on my arm, but assured me that I would be healthy enough to play football when school started. That was something Jim had planned on doing. He loved sports and I was thankful that he was in decent physical shape. Football was also something I wanted to do since I had excelled in football as Jacob Greene. I knew football would help get me into top physical shape, as well as attract cute high school girls.

Dad took off from work early and picked us up from the hospital. After picking up a very worried Amy at home, he took us all out to dinner explaining that he didn’t expect his wife to fix dinner after the rough day she’d had. While we were eating, I asked if I could get a morning paper route to earn some money.

“I thought you wanted to play football,” Dad commented.

I realized how quickly I had come to accept this family as my own, and myself as Jim Ladner. I also realized that I would have a somewhat different relationship with them due to my previous life experiences than Jim had with his family.

“I want to do both,” I replied. Mom and Dad looked back and forth at each other, weighing the balance between work, school, and football. “I’ll make you a deal. If my GPA drops below 3.0 at any time, I’ll quit the paper route and football,” I offered.

That raised eyebrows. “You’ve never gotten a 3.0 before,” Dad reminded me.

“I guess that’ll be my problem, won’t it,” I answered boldly.

Surprised by my answer, Mom shrugged at Dad. “Deal,” Dad answered, “but what’s the rush to get a job?” he asked.

“I’m going to want a car in a couple of years so that I can get a real job to help earn money for college.”

Both parents’ eyebrows shot up again, and Dad looked at me appraisingly. “That’s the first time you’ve ever mentioned college unless your mother or I brought it up.”

I shrugged. “Maybe that accident today knocked some sense into me,” I offered, getting a chuckle from everyone at the table and a blush of embarrassment from my mother.

Amy outdid herself taking care of me at dinner, as well as later when we got home. She refused to let me get up for anything at all--well, except to go to the bathroom. She even deferred to me, letting me choose the TV program we watched. I snickered inwardly, surprised at how well I remembered this episode of Man From U.N.C.L.E. from nearly half a century earlier. “I’ve seen this one. Go ahead and watch your show, Sis,” I told her. She beamed, flipping to Dr. Kildare, followed by Gomer Pyle.

I couldn’t stand those shows the first time and couldn’t stand them now, either, but suffered silently through her shows until I couldn’t keep my eyes open. “G’night, sis,” I said, giving her a quick hug.

She surprised me, giving an emotional hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was so worried when Mom called,” she said, the emotion evident in her voice.

It felt odd sleeping in a strange bed, but I was tired enough that sleep found me quickly, even in the different surroundings.

My new mother woke me the next morning to check on me, only leaving when she was satisfied that I was going to live. Obviously, I couldn’t explain that the Methuselah complex had completely healed the head injury last night while I slept. She told me that she was driving Dad to work and then heading for her volunteer job. She would also be going to the insurance office on her lunch break to see what they found out about the car. My guess was that the car was totaled since the whole passenger side of the car was concave, which I was sure meant it had a bent frame.

I took a couple of minutes before showering to examine my new body in the bathroom mirror. I had sandy brown hair and hazel eyes. I thought I was decent looking with a good physique--albeit perhaps a bit thin. I was currently a little taller than Jacob had been at the same age, and the important part, a good seven inches of cock already, promised even better things for the future. I gave those seven inches a test run in the shower and was glad to find out that they worked quite well, thank you.

After dressing, I went down to find something to eat. Amy still wasn’t up yet, so I decided to repay her kindness of yesterday and fix her breakfast. Rummaging through Jim’s memories, I learned that Amy loved omelets. Good, so did I.

Twenty minutes later, I knocked on her bedroom door. Getting no response, I cracked the door open. “Is it safe to come in?” I asked. “Amy?” I called out quietly when she didn’t answer. I peeked in slowly. She was still asleep, and as the door opened, I could see that the sheet covered everything except the top of her shoulders. Too bad, I was hoping for a quick peek at her.

For too many years now, I had considered anything younger than forty to be scandalous and wouldn’t even consider seriously checking out a teenager. Jim had only just begun to discover the opposite sex. He was still checking out the pictures of women in underwear in the department store catalogs his mother kept in the house. Spying on his sister hadn’t occurred to him yet.

I set up the TV tray (when did we stop using those?) next to her bed and put her breakfast on it. “Wake up lazy,” I said quietly.

Amy startled when she saw me next to her bed. “What are you doing in here?” she gasped.

“I made breakfast for you to repay you for being so nice to me yesterday,” I explained.

“I take it Mom is still home,” she yawned after looking the food over.

“Nope, she left an hour ago,” I replied.

She looked at the food again. “Yeah, right, the only thing you’ve ever cooked is toast--and I remember you burned that,” she teased.

“Hey, you’ve cooked omelets before. I figured that if you could do it, anybody could,” I retorted.

She looked skeptically at it, opening it carefully with the fork as if she was opening a letter bomb. “You really made that?” she asked. I nodded. She cut a small bite and tasted it, worried just how bad it would taste. “Hey, this is really good, Jim. Thanks,” she said before reaching for another bite.

As she stretched, the carefully held sheet slipped, revealing a bra-encased breast. I turned my head as she scrambled for the covers. “Now I know why you did this--you were hoping I wasn’t under the covers,” she accused playfully.

“Relax, sis, I took Polaroids before I covered you back up,” I teased.

“What?” she yelped, jumping up enough that both bra-encased breasts came out from under the sheet again.

“Relax, I was just kidding,” I laughed. “I made sure you were covered up before I came in.”

“How did you know?” she challenged.

“I peeked, of course,” I teased, still laughing as I left her room and closed the door.

Half an hour later, she made it downstairs. “You didn’t really take Polaroids, did you?” she asked nervously.

I hugged her. “You’re my sister. I can tease you and fight with you all I want, but I’d never do anything to hurt you,” I said solemnly. She hugged me back emotionally.

When she went to do her chores, I reviewed Jim’s memories of the chores he had to do. Jim had ignored the lawn last weekend. Amy usually had one or more girlfriends over to tan out by the pool by late morning or early afternoon--the excuse Jim had used last weekend not to mow the lawn.

Deciding to skim the pool and check the chemicals first, I got everything out that I would need. After chasing the floating bees and other detritus with the skimmer, I checked the pH and added chemicals so that Amy and her friends could use it in a couple of hours.

I chuckled inwardly as I pushed the old-fashioned reel mower around the yard. There were so many things to look forward to, like the prevalence of power mowers, weed eaters, and leaf blowers. For now, I donned gloves and pushed the mower and the edger by hand, raking and sweeping up the mess the edger left. I even weeded Mom’s flower garden.

Heading in just as Amy and her friends Dawn and Joyce came out to use the pool, the girls stopped me. Joyce wanted to see the stitches and make sure I really was okay, and Dawn teased me about having a concrete skull.

After brushing off the dirt and grass that was stuck in the sweat on my body, I downed a big glass of water and went out running. I figured that I didn’t have as much time to get in shape before football practice began as I wished I did. Memories etched indelibly in Jacob’s mind of the pain and agony of the first weeks of football practice each year pushed me past the first mile and through the second before finally calling it quits.

“What are you doing?” Amy asked, concerned, coming into the house when she heard me return.

“Getting in shape for football season--it’s not too far away,” I panted.

“Take it easy,” she cautioned. “We saw you run past the side gate at least four times.” I’m sure her two-piece swimsuit was quite daring for 1965, but it had enough material for at least two dozen thong bikinis--probably more.

The girls eventually came in to escape the heat outside, so I went out and started swimming laps--well, mini-laps since the pool wasn’t that big. When my arms finally refused to carry me any further, I went back inside to shower and collapse. As I walked past Amy’s room, I overheard Joyce talking in hushed tones. “Brad wanted me to suck on his thing.”

“Did you?” Amy asked, slightly breathlessly.

“No, but he said that if I won’t to do it, he’ll dump me and find a girlfriend who will,” Joyce whispered anxiously.

I’d heard enough to know what was going on. After my shower, I changed clothes. The girls were doing their nails at the kitchen table when I came out. I made sandwiches and cut up fruit for everyone, then took it to the surprised occupants of the table.

“Joyce, as one of Amy’s friends, I need to warn you about something,” I said seriously enough to get everyone’s attention. “I wasn’t eavesdropping, and I apologize ahead of time, but I want to warn you about Brad.”

The three girls blushed, pretty sure what I’d overheard. “Just what did you hear?” Amy insisted angrily.

“That doesn’t matter, and I promise that it will never pass my lips. Brad’s brother, David, and I hang out together all the time. I’ve heard enough of the stories Brad tells his friends about the girls he dates to know that he pressures them to do things they don’t want to do. His friends all know the next day about everything he makes his girlfriends do. He starts by pressuring them to perform oral sex.”

The girls were blushing seriously and fidgeting by now. “Then he pressures them into going all the way, physically forcing them if they won’t do it voluntarily. So far, his parents have had to pay for two abortions that I know of. Then, after a month or so, he dumps them and looks for a new girl. I get mad hearing him brag about forcing the girls. I just wanted to warn you what you were getting into.”

By now, tears were running down Joyce’s face, so I went back to my room to let Amy and Dawn comfort her. Half an hour later, there was a timid knock on my door. I scooted the top half of my body out from under my bed where I’d been cleaning and was surprised to see all three girls standing just outside my open door. “Come on in, it’s almost clean in here,” I said, motioning towards the bed as I crawled out from underneath it and stood to greet the three girls.

To say that I was surprised when Joyce hugged me would be an understatement. “Thank you for warning me. I know it must have been embarrassing,” she said in barely more than a loud whisper. “I wondered why he was interested in me,” she said dejectedly as she sat on my bed with Amy and Dawn bracketing her for emotional support.

“Brad likes the girls he dates to be ... uhhhmmm ... well endowed,” I said finally, blushing as I cupped my hands over my chest imitating a large pair of boobs. Of the three girls, Joyce definitely had biggest boobs. Dawn was taller and thinner and had the smallest breasts. Her slender figure and pale blond hair told me she would probably always be that way. Amy’s tits were a happy medium between the two girls, and like me, she had sandy brown hair. Joyce’s hair was dishwater blonde.

The girls were blushing and fidgeting again. “We called Amber. She dated Brad last year. She says that everything you told us was the truth and wishes that someone had warned her. Basically, you saved me from being raped,” Joyce said emotionally, standing up and walking over to where I was sitting. My cock lurched when she straddled my lap and sat down. Then she kissed me. Out of habit, my tongue pressed between her lips and I gently explored her mouth. She was moaning into my mouth as she responded, her tongue dueling with mine until she finally pulled back, breathless and flushed.

“Wow!” she gasped, “Where did you learn to kiss like that?”

“Oops,” I thought and just shrugged, not really in a position to explain.

“That was a thank-you. I want to give you a reward, too,” she said, still breathing heavily.

As she crossed her arms and grabbed the bottom of her shirt, I stopped her. “That’s not why I did it,” I said. “I just didn’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I know,” she replied, still struggling to pull the shirt off anyway. From the way her nipples were tenting the material, I knew she’d lost her bra somewhere. “I just wanted to give you a minute to see and touch my breasts.”

“If we’re going to do this, can I make a suggestion?” I asked. I had her stand up and turn with her back to me before sitting back down. She wiggled seductively on the lump she sat on.

“But you can’t see them now,” she protested.

“Oh,” she giggled when I motioned to the mirror on my dresser directly across the room from us.