Second Chance - Cover

Second Chance

SECOND CHANCE is copyright protected. Any use, including reprints, without specific written permission is forbidden and illegal

Chapter 26

DoOver Sci-fi Sex Story: Chapter 26 - 43 year old Carl watched helplessly as Death came for him in the form of an overloaded produce truck. Suddenly he found himself in the body of a 14 year old boy, injured in the same accident. Now Carl had to learn how to live as Brian and cope with a new life and a loving mother.

Caution: This DoOver Sci-fi Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/Fa   Consensual   Science Fiction   DoOver   Incest   Mother   Son   First   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Petting  

Sore.

I was soooo sore.

It hurt to move, stand, sit, breathe, and think. It even hurt to sit and think about breathing. Rebecca checked my bruise and pronounced it "favorable."

"What the heck is favorable?"

"FAVORABLE is when you stupid men do stupid things to get yourselves hurt, but not bad enough to die, or be permanently impaired. You're favorable, so stop whining and man up."

Someone was in a mood today...

Benjamin understood that we men are an endangered species and need to stick together. He came over to where I was sitting and laid his head in my lap for some comfort time. "Well ... at least someone loves me, today. Because if NOBODY loves me, then I should probably go find some other women to love, since the women I love don't love me anymore ... I'm afraid that NOBODY loves me.

"I'm so sad. NOBODY loves me. I just know it. And Nobody loves me so bad that Benjamin and I will have to go live in dumpsters, and eat dead rats, and dead pigeons, and you know ... stuff like that..."

I was really laying it on thick, and the babies were giggling at their goofy daddy. Millie was holding Millicent and watching the whole exchange with a look of hilarity on her face. Mr. Bell was wise. He held his peace and let us play it out. Someone would eventually give in, and then things would go back to normal ... Well as normal as these things ever are, anyway.

Colleen walked over and plopped James down in my lap saying, "Here. Since no one loves you, why don't you make yourself useful and feed your son?"

"Hmmmmph," I replied. "James loves his daddy, don't you big fella?" We had an understanding. I said stupid things, talked baby talk, and he laughed at me. It was a perfect arrangement. We both got exactly what we wanted.

"Well, I love you!" Winnie pronounced forcefully, when she arrived for breakfast, trailed by Meghan. "If those two skanks don't know what a great catch they've made, I'll take care of you and keep you warm from the weather, and safe from eating dead rats and pigeons."

Meghan, seeing where this was all going, chimed in. "Not so fast, Red Rider," she laughed. "If the ladies of this establishment have colluded to throw Brian to the vagaries of the elements, I'll adopt him and take him back to my house."

Now we were getting someplace.

I'd formally introduced Meghan to the family, and Millie invited her to join us this morning in time for a late breakfast. Because I'd pitched the night before, and due to my aching ribs, I had no formal time to report to the stadium, leaving us open for the better part of the day and evening. Millie guessed correctly that this was a good day to let Meghan see us and decide if she wanted to throw her lot in with the gang.

Colleen had another agenda, however. "Brian. Rebecca arranged for a specialist referral so Tabitha Groten and her mother can get going on that liver replacement. They are scheduled for a full workup in a few days. It looks like it will be expensive. He's in New Mexico of all places. I'm just giving you fair warning for when the bill comes. I ordered first class tickets for them."

"Colleen, does Tabitha need a jet to get her to the doctor? Let's have Jet Services get her to and from, and have them order a car and driver while Mary's there."

I looked at Rebecca and she said, "Doctor Gregorolsen is the best - the very best - liver guy in the country, maybe the whole world. I talked at length to Mary, Tabitha's mother, and she had her doctor email the medical file to me, yesterday.

"Her chances of living much longer without a transplant, are roughly one in ten-thousand. It's that bad. She is, however, an excellent candidate for replacement, so I'm optimistic. Just keep in mind that she is far along in the process, and a lot of damage has been done by not having a well-functioning liver." She smiled, sadly. While she hadn't met Tabitha, she felt empathy for the child, already.

I thought about her words and said, "Would it help if we contacted Doctor Abrams? Would any of his miracle drugs help, or is it all at the mercy of a liver that's a match becoming available? We can have a jet take her to Sweden, and then bring her back when they're ready."

Rebecca gave that a lot of thought, and then said, "I think the best thing is to do is give Doctor Gregorolsen a chance to do what he does best, then think about Doctor Abrams. He'll need three days to get a base line of all her needs, but I'm really confident that we're giving Tabitha a chance.

"Tabitha absolutely needs a liver. She can't take too many shocks at once, so Doctor Abrams would be better for her after the transplant, when her little body needs help to adjust and heal."

She made perfect sense, so I let it go. As we resumed more normal conversation, I could see Meghan staring at us like we had two heads. Colleen caught it and asked, "Meghan, what's wrong?"

Meghan stared at us – just stared – for some time, and then said, "Does he ... do you ... is this something that you all do often? I mean the little girl with the liver trouble. Do you just randomly pick people with impossibly expensive medical needs and take care of them?"

She seemed so stunned. I wanted to find out what was driving the question and then answer it. "Meghan," I said. "Exactly what do you mean?"

She rephrased the question. "When anyone connected to the team is involved, no matter how little, in a charitable endeavor, we all get busy and make sure EVERYBODY knows all about it. It's good for the team's image.

"I KNOW I would know if you were doing this kind of thing and let it out. So, what's the deal?"

She was asking about publicity, my silent enemy.

Rebecca stopped her right in her tracks. "Meghan, if you are going to be any part of our lives, you will quickly discover that Brian, and the rest of us do not want any kind of publicity about anything, what-so-ever. We keep our private life just that – private. This is rule that is sacrosanct. We do not let anything out about our lives, charitable giving, hobbies, home, or anything else.

"Please love us back enough to respect that."

Good answer. We let it drop after Meghan swore she would never breathe a word about us, to anyone.

The Royals and Cardinals had a game that night. I watched it from our box nursing a sore ribcage, and staying away from writers, broadcasters, agents, idiots, and know-it-alls. We had a wonderful evening, enjoying the event inside a heated sky box, with a wonderful catered meal, and good company.

Mr. J. spent a few innings with us, as did Wayne, Big Bill, Mason Pendleton, and various club and league officials. The babies were perfectly behaved, and Benjamin stuck right beside me, enjoying the catering as much as I did. He was a very well cared for, and well fed companion.

At one point, Little James crawled away from Colleen, towards the skybox door, and Benjamin gently laid down, right between James and the doors. To get out, James would have had to crawl over Benjamin, and done it without any of us noticing, which was impossible. It was even less possible with an eagle-eyed grandmother watching his every move. Millie grabbed him up, as soon as he got bored trying to figure out how to circumvent Benjamin, and took him to her couch so they could "bond."

Mr. Bell settled for explaining the finer points of owning a baseball team to our littlest teammate.

Millicent Jane spent almost the entire evening in my lap. She LOVED occupying my seat, whenever I was in it, and I adored having her company. She was particularly engrossed in putting her fingers in my mouth, up my nose, in my ears, and down my shirt. Anywhere she found an opening, Millie J. wanted to explore.

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