Transformations: Morpheus Ch. 02

Transformations: Morpheus Ch. 2

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Morpheus

Every civilization before Christianity had gods. From the Babylonians to the Egyptians, the Greeks to the Romans, and the Scandinavians - each had gods that guided the world and ruled over man. Somewhere along the way, the gods died, either in great battles or through treachery, or they simply flew away. In modern times, we believed these gods to be superstitions, myths used to explain the eruption of volcanoes or the rising and setting of the sun.

I was thirty years old in 1967, attending Berkeley on an art scholarship. Truth be told, my art had suffered from the counterculture I found myself drowning in. Drugs and sex had replaced charcoal and paint - of course, I wasn't alone in my aimless existence. It seemed like the entire world was taking one long LSD trip. I lived in a simple apartment surrounded by half-finished paintings. My scholarship paid for the room and my tuition, but it left little for food and my recreational activities.

I would supplement my income by selling my blood, doing odd jobs, and occasionally by taking part in paid studies at the university - drug trials and the like.

One day, I saw an ad on a bulletin board for a drug study that paid two hundred fifty dollars - quite a sum for the time.

I went to a building on campus at the specified time. Over a hundred of us showed up, most of us strung out on something or other. I was fairly clean at the time, but some of the people were pretty far gone. I remember one girl who stripped naked and danced around the room saying she could see everyone's aura and we were all so beautiful.

The ones who were really amped up got tossed out. They didn't want anyone so high they couldn't function.

They led us into interview rooms one at a time.

Inside the room was a chair and a desk. On the desk was a stapled stack of paper and a pencil.

A blonde nurse came into the room. She wore standard nurse's attire for the day: a white dress, white flat shoes, and a white nurse's cap. She was young and pretty. Her green eyes sparkled when she saw me.

She looked away quickly when I returned the stare. "There's a test on the table. It's multiple choice. You have twenty minutes."

I sat down and smiled at her.

She looked down at her watch. "Hey, you have twenty minutes. Get started - if you don't pass, you don't get to be in the study."

I opened the test. It was an IQ test with math, verbal, logic, and stranger things involving spatial awareness and pattern identification. I began recording my answers.

"Do you live in San Francisco?" I asked as I circled my answers.

"No talking," she scolded.

"Just making conversation. I haven't seen you around here."

"It's a big city," she said.

"Oh, I would have remembered you if I had seen you."

She blushed. Then she shook her head and looked at her watch. "Fifteen minutes."

I flipped the page. "I know this great Greek place a few blocks from here. I'd love to take you there."

She chewed her fingernail. "I'm sure most women find you very charming, Mr. Morrison. But I've been inoculated against your particular brand."

I laughed and flipped the page. "And what is my particular brand?"

"Oversexed starving artist," she said and flashed me a venomous smile that would have sent most men scurrying.

"Well, I'm hardly starving, and one can never be oversexed." I matched her gaze and she faltered a little in her icy demeanor.

She looked at her watch. "You have five minutes."

I leaned back. "Actually, I finished five minutes ago."

She stared at the closed paper on the table. "What? How?"

"Oh, I just marked at random. Four choices per question - statistically, I should have at least 1/4 of them correct."

She picked up the paper and turned it over. I saw her startled look. On the back, I had drawn her in detail, standing in her nurse's uniform, chewing her nail. Beside this was her profile, emphasizing her flowing blonde hair and big eyes. Beneath this, she lay nude on a bed, covering her breasts and looking at me with a shy expression.

I stood up.

She was mesmerized by the drawings.

"So, you were only right in your estimation of me in one out of three. I'm not starving, I'm not oversexed, but I am an artist."

***

I sat in the waiting room. She had mumbled I should stay there till they graded my test; however, she felt sure they wouldn't accept my random answers.

I had lied about that last part.

A few minutes later, she came into the room. "Eric Morrison."

I stood up and she blushed again. "Follow me." She turned and walked back toward the interview rooms.

I caught up with her. "I would gladly follow you anywhere."

"Don't do that," she whispered.

"What?"

"Don't flirt with me. I need this job, okay? The drawings were bad enough."

"Oh, did they grade those as well?"

"Four men graded your test - I feel like they all know what I look like naked now."

"Hmm, yes, I have a good eye. I thought I had you about right. Of course, for your next sitting, I'll need to get you naked."

"That is never going to happen."

"I wouldn't bet on that - let's face it, your track record on estimating my chances thus far is abysmal."

She sighed and glared up at me. "How can somebody so intelligent be such a..."

"Prick? Tool? Dick? Which word were you looking for? I'm sure it was phallic in nature, whatever you were about to say." I smiled and she blushed.

She gritted her teeth. "I was going to say 'asshole'."

"Darn. I was hoping your obvious sexual infatuation with me would show through. By the way, what's your name?"

"You can call me Nurse."

"Nurse what?" I asked as we walked past the interview rooms to a dark staircase.

"I'm sure we'll never see each other again."

"Oh, there you go making predictions again - honestly, you should steer clear of Vegas."

She stared straight ahead, and I was mesmerized by the motion of her hips on the stairs. At the next floor, she said, "Hutchins. I'm Nurse Hutchins."

"First name or last?" I asked.

When she stared at me I feigned a look of innocent curiosity. "You know damned well that's my last name." She stopped by an old style frosted glass door. "Inside."

"No," I said, leaning on the door frame. I stood close to her.

"Don't do that," she said.

"I don't take orders from you."

"They're waiting on you. Inside." She avoided my eyes.

"Let them wait. I need a first name."

She sighed. "Please just go in."

"First name, and then I'll do whatever you command. I'll be an obedient little patient. I'll even stop trying to stare down the front of your uniform." I smiled down at her.

"Melody. Melody Hutchins. Now, would you please go in?"

I smiled and bowed at the waist. "Nurse Melody Hutchins, your wish is my command."

"You are such a prick," she whispered.

"There, that's my girl. Just keep that phallic imagery till we meet again." I said as I opened the door.

She turned with a huff and rushed away.

I watched her go. A few steps from the stairs, she seemed to sense my eyes on her. She stopped, stood up straighter.

"Look back," I whispered to myself. "Come on. One little look."

She stopped on the top step and looked shyly over her shoulder at me.

I was smiling at her.

She turned quickly and flew down the steps.

"Mr. Morrison?"

I turned back to the door I had just opened.

The room was identical to the interview rooms downstairs, right down to the desk and chair.

Only this room had two chairs.

A small man in a gray suit sat on the far side of the desk. He had an American Flag pin on his lapel. "Mr. Morrison, please have a seat."

A tall, solid man stood behind him wearing an Army uniform. He was an officer, and from the eagle insignia, I identified him as a Colonel.

I walked in and sat down.

The man in the gray suit held out his hand and I shook it. "I'm Dr. Thompson. The gentleman standing behind me is Colonel Stafford."

Thompson was smiling, but the Colonel looked at me like I was something he scraped off his boot.

Thompson opened a folder in front of him. "Eric Morrison, thirty years old. Graduate student in Art at Berkeley."

"That's me."

"Perfect score on the aptitude test," Thompson said as he held up my test. "I especially like the girl." He pointed at the nude of Melody.

"As do I," I said. I smiled up at Colonel Stafford. If anything he scowled harder.

I pointed at Stafford. "He doesn't like me much, does he?"

Thompson shook his head. "Not much."

"Does he talk?" I whispered.

"People like you never take anything seriously. Whole goddamned world's just a joke to you, isn't it son?"

I leaned toward Thompson and smiled conspiratorially. "He does talk."

"Eric," Thompson said. "May I call you Eric?"

"Please do."

"Eric, have you ever used mind altering substances?"

"You mean in the last hour?"

Thompson laughed.

"I rest my case," Stafford growled.

"Yes, emphatically yes."

"Ever used LSD?" Thompson asked.

"On occasion. Have you?"

Thompson laughed again and closed the folder. "I like you, Eric. We're here to test a new drug, something akin to LSD. But, instead of having harmful side effects, we believe this drug could permanently enhance a person."

"Enhance?"

"We believe it will make you smarter - expand your mind the way LSD claims to but can't deliver. We also believe there will be physical changes."

I pondered that for a moment. You have to remember the time period. Drugs were literally everywhere, and I had taken pills without knowing what they were before.

On top of that, we were talking $250.00, not to mention the cute blonde nurse.

"Well, my only questions are: When do I get paid? And will Melody Hutchins be my nurse?"

Stafford gritted his teeth. "Hippies."

"Umm, actually, I'm not a hippie. As a matter of fact, I intend on voting for Nixon next year," I said as I leaned back in my chair. "I think it's high time we had a real Dick in the White House." I gave Stafford my best smile.

He didn't return it. "The blonde isn't cleared for this."

Thompson nodded. "Would not having Nurse Hutchins be a deal breaker for you?"

"Definitely. She and I have developed a relationship based on trust and mutual affection. We're a team."

Thompson grinned. "In that case, welcome to Project Olympus."

***

I had more paperwork to fill out. When I went back into the hallway, I found Melody waiting for me. She had a deer in headlights look I found irresistible as she led me along the hall.

"Miss me?" I asked.

"Why?" she asked.

"Why what?"

She stopped and faced me, putting her hands on her white starched hips. "Why me? This was just a short gig for me - one night of extra pay. Now I'm locked in for God knows how long."

"Locked in? You didn't have to take the job..."

"Oh yeah? I work six days a week at San Francisco General. My boss just called and told me I was on indefinite loan to the US government, and I had to sign some really scary documents, Eric, stuff about state secrets and penalties for treason," she whispered.

I brushed a lock of her golden hair out of her eyes. "I'm sorry."

She knocked my hand away. "Don't touch me."

I sighed. "I came on too strong earlier. You're right, I can be a real prick."

"Why did you have to ask for me? Seriously, you made real trouble for me. I liked SF General."

"Sorry. Really."

"Follow me," she said. "No, actually, walk beside me. You're a pervert."

I laughed. "You're catching on. Where are we going?"

"Upstairs. You have to stay at least overnight, maybe longer."

"Mmm, is there a bed?" I said and smiled.

"Damn it, Eric! Knock it off."

"Nurse Hutchins, are we on a first named basis? If you're going to call me Eric, I'm going to call you Melody."

She led me to a stairwell. "Stop flirting with me and you can call me anything you want."

"Nurse Hutchins it is then."

"You're ghastly."

The third floor was basically a hospital floor. Nurses went in and out of rooms all along the corridor. She led me to a room midway down the hall.

Inside were two beds separated by a curtain on a track in the ceiling.

A pimple-faced hippie wearing a bright colored tie-dye smiled at me behind his full brown beard and John Lennon glasses. "Welcome to the Ritz, man." He stretched on the bed and started to light up a joint.

"Mr. Pike, please put that out," Melody said.

"Aww, come on, baby," Pike laughed.

"They'll call the cops on you, Mr. Pike. I'm serious. They're really straight-laced."

"Squares, man. Don't they know this is San Francisco?"

He tapped it out and stuffed it in his jeans pocket.

Melody closed the curtain.

I hopped on the bed and patted the other side.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," she whispered.

"Whoa, Nurse Hutchins, language!" I whispered.

"Please stop, okay? I like you. You don't have to try so hard, Eric. When this is all over, I'll go out with you, but please don't make my job difficult."

I smiled. "Finally. I was beginning to think you were immune to the magic that is me."

"Jesus, your ego. You're going to need a bigger room. Now, be good or I won't go out with you."

"I'll be an angel."

"Yeah, right." She sighed. "In a few minutes, I'll come back with a liquid medication. You're going to drink it and sit quietly for a half hour. After that, we'll take your vitals and see what effect the medication is having. You might have to stay for a day or two for observation."

"And, a day after that I'm taking you to Fisherman's Wharf. Wine, candlelight. Afterwards, I'll take you back to my garret and show you my etchings."

She burst out laughing. "Your etchings? Seriously?"

I smiled. "And then I'm going to make love to you, Melody Hutchins. I'm going to make love to every inch of your beautiful body and ruin you for all other men, leaving you breathless and satisfied."

She stared at me and blinked as I smiled.

"Jesus," she said as she turned around and disappeared through the curtain.

I looked at the curtain. "You're smiling, aren't you?"

She gasped on the other side. "Shut up."

***

In an empty room on the same floor, Nurse Evie Price held up the strap-on and smiled. The attached dildo was pink and about seven inches long. She was stripped down to her stockings and garter belt. "I am going to fuck you so hard."

"With that piece of plastic?" The head nurse asked in her thick Russian accent.

"Yes, this piece of plastic." She knelt down over the blonde head nurse and licked her lips. "It's my cock."

"It is a plastic cock. I don't like plastic cocks. I'd rather have your tongue, your fingers."

Evie stepped into the strap-on and pulled it up, the plastic base of the dildo poised over her red haired pubic mound. "Suck my dick, slut."

The head nurse laughed. "You are insane."

Evie smiled. "You are beautiful."

"Once. Not now."

Evie lay down on the bed beside her, brushing her blonde, almost white hair with her fingers.

The head nurse was tall with an hourglass figure, her strange almost almond shaped eyes giving her an exotic look. The lines on her face only deepened her beauty, though they were not laugh lines.

"You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," Evie whispered. She kissed her.

The head nurse reached down and adjusted the straps on the dildo. "This needs to be tighter."

"Mmm, I like it tighter." She rolled the head nurse onto her back. Evie crawled on top of her and positioned the plastic cock at the entrance to her pussy.

Evie smiled down at her as she pushed forward with her hips.

The head nurse gasped as the dildo slid inside her to the hilt. Then she wrapped her legs around Evie's waist.

The woman's almond shaped eyes opened wide.

"Don't like a plastic cock, huh?" Evie whispered.

"Shut up and fuck me, you little bitch."

Evie began moving her hips, thrusting the dildo in and out as the head nurse bit Evie's shoulder.

"Unnh, harder..."

Evie laughed.

"Shh!" The head nurse whispered.

"You're the one making noise," Evie giggled. "Besides, the rooms are soundproof."

"If they catch us, they'll sack us."

"Then try not to scream when you cum!" She thrust harder with each stroke.

The head nurse began mumbling in Russian.

A minute later she bit Evie hard, her fingers clawing at Evie's back as she came.

Evie rolled off her when she felt the head nurse go limp beneath her. She lay panting beside the older woman.

"Evie Renee Price, you are very good at fucking."

"Maria Anastasia Marapova, you're not so bad yourself."

***

Morpheus

Dr. Thompson walked into my room followed by Colonel Stafford. Another doctor was with them. He was taller than Thompson, but thinner.

The two doctors wore clean, white lab coats.

"Mr. Pike, Mr. Morrison?" Thompson said. "This is Dr. Balenger. He'll be assisting me. I take it your nurse explained the procedure?"

"Yeah, man, we're drinking some liquid LSD and getting mellow," Pike laughed.

The Colonel stared at him.

Pike looked unfazed.

"It's not LSD," Thompson said. "As I told you earlier, it is mentally and physically altering, but not LSD. Your nurse will be here after you ingest the medication..."

"In case we have a bad trip?" Pike asked.

Thompson nodded and looked away. "Good luck, gentlemen."

Stafford smiled at me. "I'll be back when the screaming starts."

"What?!" I asked.

He just laughed as they left the room.

"Man, I think G.I. Joe was trying to scare us," Pike said.

"Yeah? Well, it's working."

"Naah, man, he's just trying to get in your head. The man is always trying to keep the good drugs away from the populace."

I stared at him. "Hey, Pike? You took the IQ test, right?" The guy was so fried, I couldn't believe he passed it.

"Sure. Easy shit. That spatial awareness stuff? Dumb asses don't understand that if you look at things as being not just three dimensional but five, six, or seven dimensional? You can fold that shit up in your head easy peasy."

I pointed at him. "Mathematician?"

"Post-doctoral, man." He pulled out his joint and lit up.

"That shit's going to fry your Univac brain, Pike."

"No, man, I understand shit better when I'm stoned."

I laughed and went back to my bed. "You think it's smart to mix Mary Jane with whatever they're getting ready to give us?"

"Fuck, yeah, man! Grass makes everything better."

Melody came in the room pushing a cart. Two plastic tumblers rested on the stainless steel cart top.

She was wearing heavy, black rubber gloves that stretched all the way to her elbows. She looked at Pike. "I'm going to give Mr. Morrison his dose first, then I'll be right with you."

"Right on, man," Pike laughed, an acrid cloud rising up above his head.

Melody sighed. "Mr. Pike, please put that out."

He tapped it out in his bedstand ash tray.

Melody walked to my bedside and closed the curtain. "Leave. Put on your clothes and walk out the door."

"What?" I asked.

"Eric, listen to me. There's something not right about this. See these gloves? Eric, the men who poured the liquid into these tumblers? They were wearing space suits."

"Space suits?"

"Things like space suits. They had helmets and oxygen tanks. Whatever they put in these tumblers? They're deathly afraid of it."

I took her hand. "Hey, come on. You think they would come here to Berkeley of all places to test something dangerous? The news would get a hold of it and crucify them."

"Eric, please, I'm frightened." She put her arms around me and held on tight.

"Wow," I whispered. "I knew you liked me."

"God, shut up. Just please, get up and leave."

I smiled at her as she stepped back.

Then I held out my hand.

"Please don't do this," she whispered.

I kept my hand out.

She picked up the tumbler and handed it to me. "God forgive me."