Body Hopper – Redemption

I borrowed the basis for this story from Mister A's "Body Hopper" stories on Fictionmania. While I enjoyed his writing in a way, the stories also angered me. How dare these hoppers abuse their victims like that? Can't they see the harm they are doing? Don't they care?

I felt it was time to write a story about one body hopper who developed a conscience, and tried to make the world a better place. I may write another tale, or maybe flesh out this story some more - time will tell. I hope you enjoy it - please feel free to post comments below.

At long last, I got off my butt, and sat down to continue my neglected story.

Comments or questions, anyone?

Please note: This is an incomplete story. For anyone who read this and expected more chapters, I do apologize. I think it was too sexually oriented for me to maintain enough interest to finish it.
----------------------------------------------------

And here is the start of another story. Please note that it has a slightly darker tone than my other writing, and a forced sex scene towards the end.

Comments, suggestions, and the like are welcome.

----------------------------------------------------

Chapter 4 in the series.

Note - may be an upsetting subject matter for some.

For readers of my past work, I should tell you that this is an incomplete story, as of this moment. I am working on other chapters, and will post them once I get the entire thing done.

Thank you for your patience, and I apologize if I left you hanging.

Thanks

O.K. Jan, 2012

I awoke with a start. It took me a few moments to get my bearings — I was back in my room. My brain felt a bit fuzzy; probably as a result of whatever the doctor injected me with. I rubbed the spot where the hypo had made contact. There was no soreness, nor any bumps on the skin.

A small town man begins to learn that a little tolerance towards others may not be such a bad thing.

Warning: this story has sexual content of a somewhat explicit nature.

“All in good time?”, I repeated. “This is most definitely NOT a good time. Frankly, my dear doctor, your stalling is really getting on my nerves.”

“So I can tell, my dear...”, he began.

“And would you stop calling me ‘dear‘” I interrupted, “like I am some helpless... woman.” I fairly spat out the last word. “I am not a woman, and I am most certainly not helpless. Let me reword my previous questions in a format that you can hopefully understand: Why have you done this to me?” I actually managed to work some menace into those last seven words, letting him know that my patience was rapidly approaching its end.

Part 2:

Sorry, folks, but this is only a partial answer. More like a historical basis for what is yet to come. I figured I'd best write something, while the ideas were still fresh in my head, and while I had some free time.

Feedback is welcome, as always.