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AKA: the longest chapter I've ever written for any book!

CHAPTER 4

I woke up in a hospital bed, with two nurses staring down at me. Behind them stood three doctors and another pair of nurses. They were all holding clipboards.

“Oh,” said the nurse closest to my face. “He’s awake.”

“Just ignore him right now,” said the older doctor in the back. “As I was saying, the patient suffered a massive heart attack. He was admitted within an hour of first symptoms, so we were able to administer thrombolysis and perform and angioplasty before the heart suffered any significant damage.”

“So, I’m okay?” I asked with a groan, trying to sit up. The nurse put her hand on my chest, awkwardly pushing me back down. I wanted to jump out of that bed and shout for joy. When I was blacking out, on the edge of that dark, rainy highway, I was sure that I was dying. But now, I hardly had any energy; I couldn’t even push through the nurse’s gentle hold.

“You need to relax, Mr. Benson,” said the nurse.

“Please be quiet,” the doctor said to the nurse. “Let me finish. The angioplasty operation was quick. No complications with the sedation. The patient should remain here for monitoring for the next forty-eight hours before being sent home with beta-blockers—the standard protocol, as you should all know by now.” He aggressively eyed one of the younger nurses, and she shied her gaze to the ground. “Moving on.”

The doctor led the team of nurses away from me, towards the next patient, and the doctor started his speech all over again.

I was alone, with so many questions. I couldn’t believe that I’d actually suffered a heart attack. I’d never had a heart attack before; I was young and healthy. I didn’t eat garbage food and I hardly ever even drank soda. I exercised regularly, and I didn’t have any conditions… But that terrifying near-death experience on the highway really gave my heart a shock. Maybe I needed to start being more careful; I wasn’t a kid anymore. Sure, I was still in my twenties, but I was getting older.

I started to sit up, though I wasn’t quite sure why. I had an IV connected to me. I grabbed the tape, pulled it back, and then I started to pull out the needle. Next, I grabbed one of the little monitors on my chest and pulled it off. The glue was strong and it pulled out a few of my translucent chest hairs. “Ouch,” I grunted.

Then, a nurse looked back as the machine hooked up to me started to flatline. “Sir!” she yelled, cutting off the doctor’s speech. They all looked over at me. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to go,” I said.

“No,” she said, rushing over suddenly. “You need to rest for the next day or two. You aren’t in a condition to leave. You just underwent an angioplasty.”

“I don’t know what that is,” I said. “But I really have to go.”

Now, the doctor, looking frustrated, walked over. “Mr. Benson, it’s important that you rest. Any strenuous activity could trigger a second attack, and it will undoubtedly be more deadly than the last one. Your heart needs time to heal; it’s a resilient organ, but right now, it’s damaged.”

“I really think I’m fine. I have to get a truck to Halifax. By the way, where is the truck I was in? Was it towed?” I said, though I had no idea why I was putting up a fight; I really didn’t care about getting that truck to Halifax; my health was so much more important.

“Just relax,” he said.

I had to fight the urge to leave to make myself lay down. It wasn’t easy. I kept eyeing the exit. My hands were trembling. I felt like I’d pounded back four strong coffees.

“Can we get him something to help him relax?” the youngest nurse asked.

“He’s fine. He just needs to settle in. Perhaps he needs to make a few phone calls—to let his boss know that he’s in the hospital, and perhaps to get a family member to walk his dog.”

“I don’t have a boss or a dog,” I said.

But the doctor didn’t care; he just walked away, taking the nurses with him. One of the nurses looked back. “Seriously, Mr. Benson. Just relax. We’ll have a TV wheeled in; that will help you take your mind off of things for a while. I’ll come back in a few minutes to reattach your IV. You need those fluids. They’re helping to dilute your blood.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Okay. Thanks.”

She turned around and started to leave.

“Oh,” I said. “Was there anyone else with me?”

She glared at me. “Excuse me?”

“In the car,” I said. “When I blacked out… was there a girl with me?”

“Not that I know,” she said. “But I can ask the paramedics when I see them. I think Richard was the one who brought you in, and he still has two hours left on his shift.” She smiled and turned away. Now, I was thinking about that strange encounter in the car, with that girl. What was her name? Mallory? Mackenzie? Maeve? No—it was Marissa. I could picture her perfectly, as if she was real…

But there was no way that encounter was real. There was no way that I actually picked up a hitchhiking ghost on the side of the highway! That was probably all a weird dream that I had while they were operating on me.

I felt a small pain in the side of my chest. I pulled up my robe and saw a small stitched-up scar. It was about two inches long—that must have been where they went in to do their angioplasty, which I think has something to do with inserting a balloon to open up some valve or artery or something; I don’t know—I’m not a doctor, but I know that it’s a pretty serious little operation. And I really should have just taken the time to rest, so there were no complications…

But those urges to leave came back. I found myself gazing around the room, trying to spot any spying nurses. They were all gone, making their rounds around that hospital, checking in on all of the patients who had come in in the night. I strained to sit up, against my better judgement. I pulled up my robe and saw the little monitors hooked up to me. I knew they were going to beep when I removed them, but that big machine was close to me. I eyed the various knobs and saw one for volume. I turned it low before pulling off the monitors again. It still flatlined, but it wasn’t as loud this time—not loud enough to make the nurses come running.

I slipped my feet onto the ground. I felt a cool, air-conditioned breeze tickling my crotch. My heart was racing now. “What the hell are you doing?” I whispered to myself. I looked down, feeling a tugging on my penis. There was a tube stuck in there. Horrified, I grabbed it and pulled it out slowly, looking away. It wasn’t a nice feeling: a rubber tube sliding out from the urethra…

And then a strange thought crossed through my mind: ‘You don’t need to lay in a hospital bed to relax. You can just take it easy in the truck, and then check into a hotel once you get to your destination.’ Maybe it was true, but that thought went against my better judgement. I really didn’t care at all about getting that truck to the client…

But still, I found myself standing up, groaning as my legs wobbled. I could still feel some of that drug in my system: the powerful anesthesia that kept me asleep while they worked on my heart. I bit down on my tongue, trying to fight the urge to leave. And for a moment, I was able to overcome those strange urges. I sat back down and took a deep breath. I eyed the pillow on my bed and I thought about going back to sleep. But that clear mind didn’t last long.

I stood up again with a grunt. I swayed from side to side. A horrible nausea surged through me. I took two steps forward. My robe opened up in the back, and I felt my exposed ass against the cool air of the hospital. I looked around for my clothes.

I had no idea what my plan was. I didn’t even know what town I was in, or where my truck was. Why wasn’t I staying still? What was I trying to prove?

“Sir?” said the nurse behind the counter. I ignored her and kept moving towards the exit… though I had no idea where the exit was. “Sir? Where are you going?”

“I—I just have to use the bathroom,” I said. “Where is it?”

She stared at me for a moment, not sure what to do. “It’s down there,” she said, possibly against her own better judgement. I went down the hall towards that bathroom. On my way, I saw into one of the hospital’s ‘rooms’ (they weren’t really rooms, but squares divided by curtains). There was a girl, about nineteen-years-old, in the bed, sleeping peacefully. I paused and looked at her face, thinking for a moment that she was the girl I picked up. But this girl had platinum blonde hair and rosy skin. Marissa’s hair was darker, with copper ends—a style that was really in about twenty years earlier—but that didn’t mean that she was actually a ghost from the year 2002.

There was a man sleeping in a chair next to her—possibly her boyfriend. And between them was a bag, on the floor, full of clothes: her clothes. I froze and stared at it. Then, working aggressively against my better judgement, I snuck into the room. I tiptoed over to the bag and lifted it up. It was a bit heavy, with shoes inside. I backed out of the room with that bag, heart pounding. I don’t think I was supposed to be doing anything to make my heart race like that; it still hurt whenever it started smashing against my ribcage.

I was almost wishing the nurses would come and stop me; maybe I was acting all loopy because of the anesthesia. That was surely why… Why else would I be stealing some girl’s clothes? Now, I was inching down the hallway, passing the bathroom, looking for the exit with my robe open in the back. I walked by a pair of nurses; they eyed me strangely and then they kept on walking, apparently thinking nothing of my strange appearance.

I stumbled, feeling suddenly lightheaded. I grabbed the chair rail on the wall to hold myself upright, and then I took a deep breath. “I only have twelve hours left,” I whispered to myself, but I’m not sure why I said it—I didn’t even know what it meant. Twelve hours to do what? What the hell was I even talking about?

“Are you okay, sir?” asked a janitor. She was staring at me with a mop in her hands. “Do you need me to get you a nurse?”

“No,” I said quickly. “I’m perfectly fine. Thanks.”

I strained to stand upright, and then I bit my tongue as I fought the pain in my chest. Was I having another heart attack? Was I going to kill myself? Why wasn’t I turning around and heading back to that hospital bed, so the nurses could ensure my survival?

“Don’t worry,” I whispered. “It’s not a heart attack. It’s just soreness from the surgery.” And again, I wasn’t sure why I said it, or who I was saying it to. My brain was completely messed up. I was in no condition to be leaving on my own.

I turned a corner and saw a glass door, leading to a parking lot: the exit. I perked up. I felt my eyes glowing bright. Then, I paused. My head turned left and I saw into the nurse’s break room. There was a nurse in there, brushing some mascara onto her eyelashes. I stared at her for a long moment before she noticed me. She stared at me for a moment and then smiled; I returned the smile.

I kept walking, but I didn’t go far. I took a seat in the triage waiting area. I let out a sigh of relief, sure that my insane escape attempt had come to an end. Now, I was just going to rest in that seat until I had the energy to make it back to my bed. I stayed there for the next ten minutes, until that dolled-up nurse emerged from that break room. She looked around, saw me again, smiled, and then went back to her shift. Her scrubs were a bit too small on her body, riding up and exposing the butterfly tramp-stamp tattoo, which looked like it couldn’t have been more than a few months old.

Once she was gone, I stood up. I started heading back towards my bed, back down that hall—and I was sure that’s where I was headed, and then I suddenly took a hard right turn, grabbing the door handle of that break room before letting myself in. Now, moving quickly despite the pain and stiffness, I rushed to the bag on the table. I unzipped it and saw the nurse’s things: her wallet, her women’s hygiene products, and the makeup she’d just been using. I took everything out but the makeup, and then I grabbed the bag and spun around.

What the hell was I doing? What had come over me? I rushed back into the hallway, and I turned back towards the triage waiting room. With quick, small steps, I rushed to the front door. It opened as a paramedic came in from his smoke break. The breeze from outside lifted up my robe, exposing my penis to the entire waiting room, but I was in too much of a rush to care. I hurried by the paramedic, making him stop to stare at me. I went out, barefoot, onto the pavement, feeling the cool autumn air. The ground was still wet from the rainstorm.

“What am I doing?” I whispered aloud to myself.

I looked around, unable to spot that truck in the parking lot. I could only assume that it had been towed to a lot somewhere, probably on the other side of that town—and I still had no idea which town I was in!

I didn’t have time to figure that out. I zipped across the parking lot and then I spotted a city bus. I had no idea where it was heading, but I knew that I needed to get away from that hospital before I was caught stealing those clothes and that bag of makeup. So, I ran, as fast as I could under the circumstances, and I made it to the stop before the bus pulled up. I got a weird look from the driver as I stepped on, and then I got an audience of weird looks from the passengers when another breeze exposed my penis to them all.

I took a seat, heart pounding, head swirling with confusion. I made eye-contact with nobody as I turned my gaze down. The bus started to move, and I didn’t get off until it reached its final stop, at the other end of town. As I stepped off the bus, I turned to look at the very-confused bus driver.

“Excuse me,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“Where are we right now?”

“Industry Avenue,” he said softly.

“In what city?”

“Edmundston,” he said, almost sound like he was asking a question.

I perked up. Shediac wasn’t far! About four hours by car, and that gave me plenty of wiggle room—though I still had to figure out how I was going to get there, seeing as I had no idea where my truck was, and there was no way the hospital was going to tell me without making me rest there for two days…

I shook my head suddenly, groaning. Why did I care about going to Shediac? Shediac wasn’t even on my way to Halifax, and I couldn’t just leave the truck in Edmundston, or I wouldn’t be paid. I drove that damned truck across the entire country; I couldn’t just leave it now.

I suddenly remembered Marissa, and her goal of getting to Shediac. Then, I remembered her telling me that she was going to commandeer my body. Is that what she was doing now? Is that where these strange urges were coming from?

I shook my head again. No—it was impossible. Ghosts aren’t real, and even if they were, there’s no way that they can just sneak into someone’s body.

“Are, uh, you going to get off?” the bus driver asked.

“What’s the fastest way to get to Shediac?” I asked.

“Shediac?” he said. “You could, uh, get onto a Greyhound. There’s a station just a few blocks from here—that way. Are you okay, fella? You look very… pale.”

I didn’t feel okay. I hardly had an ounce of energy in me. I needed to rest—badly. I had no idea what the hell I was doing. I was almost tempted to tell the driver to call 911, so an ambulance could take me back to the hospital, where I could be under the supervision of caring nurses and doctors. I was less likely to die of stupidity in a hospital.

“I’m fine,” I lied. “Thanks for the help.”

I stumbled down the road, trying to tie up my robe in the back so fewer people would see my ass and penis. I spotted the Greyhound station. My heart fluttered with a strange combination of joy and absolute confusion. Getting on a Greyhound would get me closer to Shediac—but it would take me further away from my truck, and it would mean having to loop back to find that truck in Edmundston. Nothing I was doing made any sense. Why couldn’t I reel myself in? Why wasn’t that drug wearing off, so I could collect my sensibilities?

I managed to make myself stop. I managed to take a deep breath. Then, I saw a bus coming, and on the bus, in bright letters, was EDMUNSTON HOSPITAL. It was my lucky break: my chance to get back to my hospital bed before I screwed myself up in the worst way possible. Then, after resting for a couple of days, I could ask them to tell me where my truck was, and then I could finish the delivery—possibly even on-time.

I started walking towards the nearby bus stop. I felt a tension, like something was fighting me. My body corked back, trying to spin me around, but I fought, mustering up a surprising amount of willpower. I took another step back to the bus stop, away from the Greyhound station.

“Don’t do this,” I whispered to myself, but I have no idea where those words came from. What was I telling myself not to do?

I kept walked, stumbling slightly. My legs were starting to lose strength. That powerful drug was still in my veins, still making me feel lightheaded and lethargic; I should have never left the hospital. I was apparently the only person insane enough to run away from the hospital within hours of being treated for a serious heart attack.

“Stop,” I said, though again, I had no idea where those words were coming from.

The urge to turn around was powerful. I wanted to go to that Greyhound station so badly! I bit down on my tongue and squirmed, groaning. Then, I suddenly stopped walking. Why wasn’t I moving? What was happening?

I decided to ask: “What’s happening to me?”

“Just give up, Lou,” I replied to myself.

My heart fluttered before sinking into my stomach. Why did I just reply to myself?

I looked over and saw an old woman staring at me with wide, nervous eyes. She backed up, keeping her distance from me as a gust of wind grabbed my hospital gown, exposing my penis to the world. I must have looked truly insane.

“Just let me use you for the next twelve hours,” I said aloud—but those words weren’t my own. “It’s important.”

“Get out of me!” I cried. I spun around, expecting to see Marissa standing there, but she wasn’t there—because she was inside of me.

But I was sure she wasn’t real; I was sure that she was just part of my imagination; even when she was in the truck, after I picked her up on the side of the highway. I was having some sort of mental breakdown and she was just a repercussion: a hallucination, a confusing dream, or maybe a nightmare.

“If I leave you, I won’t be able to get back in,” she said to me. “And it could be a hundred years before I get this opportunity again.” I suddenly started walking towards that Greyhound station.

“Stop,” I said.

“No. I’m running out of time,” I said back.

“I don’t like this. Stop it!”

Now, at least six people were stopped and staring at me. My gown had blown loose. The strings were flapping with the wind, and my ass and cock were exposed to the whole city of Edmundston.

“You’ll survive, Lou. I’m just borrowing you.”

“I just had a heart attack!”

“And I saved you,” she said using my tongue. “You should be grateful. And look—if I have to wait one-hundred years, I won’t get to meet Max. He’ll be dead and I’ll be stuck here. I don’t want to be stuck here for eternity, Lou. I’m sorry that you’re being inconvenienced, but I need you to cooperate.”

“Sir?” someone called out. “Do you need help?” He started to approach me.

“Stay away from him!” the old woman shouted. “He could be dangerous!”

I forced a smile. “I’m not dangerous. I—I’m just… on the phone.” I pointed at my ear. “It’s a Bluetooth earpiece. They’re, uh… new.”

“He’s showing his penis to everyone—including children!”

I reached down and pushed the gown between my legs. I scrambled to tie it up, but it wasn’t easy to catch those flapping strings. “I just had a heart attack! I haven’t had a chance to get dressed.”

“Someone call the police!” the old woman screamed.

“He needs a doctor,” the man said. “He probably wandered away from the psych ward. Sir! You’re going to hurt yourself. It’s very important that you take a seat until some help can come for you.” He began to approach me again.

“Don’t go near him! He’s dangerous!” the old woman shouted.

“Can it, lady!” I shouted—but those words weren’t my own; they belonged to Marissa. “Mind your own business, you old hag!” Then, I spun around, towards that Greyhound station. “C’mon, Lou. We’re running out of time. We have lots to do.” I started lurching forward, taking big, awkward steps towards the Greyhound station. “Stop fighting. You’re just wasting time.”

“I don’t want to do this,” I cried.

“We can talk about it on the bus. Now’s not the time for this. They’re going to have you arrested for indecent exposure.”

“He’s talking to himself like a lunatic!” shouted the old woman.

“Sir—please come and sit on this bench. Help is on its way,” said the man.

“Don’t go near him!” shouted the old woman again.

I tried to fight Marissa; I could fight her. I felt like I was slightly stronger than her. With enough willpower, I could resist those steps, though it wasn’t easy. I could focus hard to stop her from getting her way…

But I did still feel bad for her. If I wasn’t having a mental breakdown, then her plight was actually quite sad. She’d been stuck on the side of that highway for twenty years. She died so tragically. All she wanted was to talk to this guy, and maybe I just needed to let her do it.

I groaned. I looked around at the crowd of concerned citizens. Maybe I did just need to shut my mouth and get away from them all—before the police showed up.

So, I gave in. I let Marissa take my body over to the Greyhound station, and I kept my mouth shut. I reached into that bag and pulled out a dress, which I used to tie around my body, holding my gown shut, covering my ass so that I wasn’t ‘exposed’ to anybody.

A block before the bus station, a police officer pulled up near me. He eyed me and he eyed the crowd following me. The old woman rushed over to the cop and started shouting at him to arrest me, but he just stared at me, trying to decide if I was worth arresting. I tried to ignore him, going on with my day. Finally, he called out to me. “Are you okay, sir?”

“I’m fine. I just left the hospital and I don’t have any clothes,” I said.

“Just, uh, try to keep yourself covered up… please. We got reports that, uh, you were uncovered.”

“It’s windy,” I said.

“Do your best.”

“That’s it!” the old woman shrieked. And I didn’t hear anything else; she stayed to fight with the cop and I scurried away, off to the bus station. I was lucky that I wasn’t arrested. I was lucky that I wasn’t taken into a police station for the rest of the day, ruining both my day and Marissa’s.

I went into the bus station and rushed towards the counter. The place was empty, except for an old man sitting in the corner, asleep and snoring as he waited for his bus to come. The young man didn’t look up at me. His gaze was down at his phone. And on his phone was a pornography scene: a girl who looked a lot like Pam Anderson sucking a big, fat tattooed cock.

He didn’t look up at me. His lips were parted. He was panting slightly. His eyes were totally glazed over. He couldn’t have been older than nineteen years old, pimples on his cheeks.

“Um, excuse me,” I said.

And then he gasped, pushing his phone onto the floor and perking up with a dark red face. “A friend just sent that to me!” he gasped. “I just clicked on it and didn’t even know what was going to come up.”

“I need a bus ticked to Shediac,” I said, and I wasn’t sure if it was me asking or Marissa.

“I swear, that was just a message from my friend,” he said.

“I don’t care. I just need a ticket to Shediac.”

“Sh—Shediac?” he said. “Um, okay.” He looked down at his binder. “The bus comes in two hours. There’s one stop on the way.”

“Shit,” I said—but this time, I was sure that it was Marissa speaking. “What time will it arrive?”

“8:00 PM.” He looked over and saw his phone on the ground, which was still playing that porn video. Now, the Pam Anderson lookalike was spreading her butt cheeks as the tattooed cock was being pushed into her tight asshole.

“That only leaves, like, two hours,” I whispered. “Is there no way to get there faster?”

“That’s it,” he said. “There’s a bus to Moncton in thirty minutes, but that gets to Moncton at 7:00 PM. I guess you could take a cab from Moncton to Shediac. I swear my friend just sent me that video. He’s always doing it; he thinks it’s funny, getting me in trouble while I’m at work.” Then, the young man used his hands to cover the bulging erection that was towering in his pants.

“A cab from Moncton to Shediac would take close to an hour,” Marissa whispered from within my body. “And then there’s the matter of paying for the cab… Okay—give us the Shediac bus.”

“Us?” the man said.

“Uh, me—sorry,” I said. “I’ll take one ticket.”

“Sure,” the young man said. He leaned over and grabbed his phone, turning the video off. His cheeks were still burning red. “I really need to talk to my friend about this; it’s so inappropriate. The cost of the ticket is ninety-six dollars, fifty-five cents. You paying with a card, or what?”

I patted my gown, quickly realizing that I had no money. My wallet was in the truck, and I had no idea where that truck was. “Shit,” I muttered. “No, no, no. I need to get on that bus.” I looked up at him. “Any way you can just do me a huge favor and give me the ticket? I, uh—promise I won’t tell your boss about that video you were watching.”

“I told you!” he snapped suddenly, narrowing his eyes as his body tensed up. “I wasn’t watching it! My friend sent it to me! I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Well, nevertheless, we’ll keep it between us if I can just get a ticket for that bus.”

“No way,” he said. “It won’t print a ticket unless I process the funds. That’s not how it works, bro. If you don’t have money, I can’t help you.”

“You really want me to tell your boss that you were jerking off to porn behind the counter?” I said. And those words came from Marissa.

He stood up and took a deep breath. “I told you: it was a joke message from a friend that I accidentally opened! He told me it was a meme! And go ahead—tell my boss. My boss is my uncle and there’s no way he’s going to fire me.”

Suddenly, I turned away and started walking away from the counter, towards the bus station bathroom. “That’s it?” I said. “You’re giving up like that?”

“He’s not budging,” Marissa said with my mouth. “We need a new strategy.”

“I think we just need to give up.”

“We can try one more thing, and then we can take a shot at hitchhiking.”

“Hitchhiking? Are you serious?”

“I don’t think it will come to that,” she said. “I want on that bus, and we have two hours to figure this out, one way or another.”

I pushed open the bathroom door—for the women’s bathroom. “You know I’m still a man, right?”

“Nobody’s here,” she said. “It makes no difference. Let’s just get out of this annoying gown.”

I reached around and untied the dress-belt, letting the gown float open. I slipped out of the soft-blue gown, and then I bent over to open that bag of clothes that I stole. “What are you doing?” I said.

“We need an outfit,” she said.

“I’m not wearing women’s clothes.”

“No—you’re not. I am. I just happen to be using your body.”

“Hell no!” I said, and then I stopped myself, using that straining willpower to bring her to a halt.

“Let me do it, Lou! You’re going to make this whole thing a waste of time!”

“I’m not wearing a dress.”

“Ugh,” she groaned with my voice. “It’s not like anyone knows you here. I’m going to put on makeup. You won’t even be recognizable. Just relax a little bit—will you?”

“Stop it,” I said as she began to use her own willpower to override me. She slipped a tight white dress out from the bag. It had pale yellow flowers printed on it, and it was cut up the sides, tied together with crisscrossing laces. “I’m not wearing this! Are you kidding me?”

“It’s actually really cute,” I said, and my voice was starting to sound more feminine. She was making my voice sound more feminine, straining my vocal muscles to soften the tone and raise the pitch. “I love the flowers—and the cut at the bottom is so my style.”

“Get this off of me,” I said, feeling the tight, soft fabric all around me. “Why are you doing this?”

“What do you want me to wear?” she asked. “I can’t meet Max in that nasty hospital gown—it smells like they didn’t even put detergent in the washer. This is way more my style.”

“I don’t like this,” I said.

“If you keep fighting, you’re going to give yourself another heart attack,” she said to me, in that girly voice that I think she was trying to practise. It was a bit different every time, as if she was testing out different inflections, trying to see just what she could come up with using the limitations of my tongue.

“Please stop this nonsense,” I said as she dug some heels out from the bag—or I should say, as I dug out the heels.

“Will these fit your feet? You actually have really cute feet. But you need to deal with this toe hair. Ew.  At least you keep your crotch shaved.”

“Stop looking at my crotch,” I said.

“We need panties. You’re bulge is too obvious.”

“Stop this already!” I was trying to override her, but she was pushing hard to override me. It was quickly becoming a battle of willpower. I could stop her for a few seconds at a time, but then she would push through, getting another article on my body. “Do you actually think you can make me look like a chick?”

“Oh, definitely,” she said. “That’s why I was so happy when I saw you. You’re about as perfect as I could get—unless you had been a girl, of course. But I have to work with what God gave me. So please—just let me use your body for the next eleven hours. Let’s stop fighting; You’re just slowing the process down and making it frustrating.”

“I really don’t like this,” I said, but I had to give in. I was losing the energy to keep fighting. It was strangely exhausting, even though it wasn’t a physical battle. It was an emotional and mental marathon, and I felt like I had nothing left. There was a strange sense of relief, just letting her take me over for a few minutes, even though I hated what she was doing: brushing makeup onto my face, using some goopy product to push my hair around until it looked somewhat like a girl’s haircut.

It was the eyeliner that made me want to start fighting all over again. That eyeliner made my eyes look… feminine. I didn’t like seeing myself like that, and she insisted on staring in the mirror for long periods of time. And then she kept saying things like, “You have to admit that you look cute,” as if she was going to make me feel better about it. “You’ve got the most adorable dimples.”

“Stop,” I groaned. “Or I’ll get into a cab and head straight back to the hospital.”

“With what money?” she asked with a giggle. Her female voice was starting to sound more realistic. I didn’t know my vocal cords were capable of producing girly sounds like that.

“And what’s your plan? You’re going to get a bus ticket with what money?”

“Girls have other ways to pay.”

“What are you talking about?”

And then I saw her grinning at me in the mirror: me, dolled up, grinning at myself. I was unrecognizable, strangely attractive in an uncanny sort of way. It was the lip-gloss that made me feel especially emasculated, making my lips shine, looking plump and kissable.

Then, I found myself back at the counter. The young man was once again paying no attention, staring down at his phone. This time, he was being more careful with his screen, keeping it turned away from the public, keeping his hand around the screen so nobody could peer over to see what he was watching (porn).

I didn’t have to say anything; he smelled the perfume that I was wearing: a sweet, gentle smell that was actually quite nice. But I didn’t want it on my body. I didn’t want it anywhere near me. And now, I was dreading the moment he realized who he was looking at. I was dreading his reaction. He was going to laugh, and it was going to be humiliating…

That’s what I thought. Instead, his gaze grew wide and he scanned my body, blushing all over. “Hello, miss. How can I help you?”

“Hi there,” Marissa said with my body, using that voice she’d worked on in the Greyhound bathroom. She made me lean over the counter, crossing my arms, pushing my butt into the air. That dress was short; if there had been someone behind me, they would have seen the thong she put on me: that narrow strip of fabric that was holding my cock and ball sack in place. “I really need a ticket to Shediac.”

“There’s a bus leaving here in… seventy minutes. It’s due to arrive at 7:00 PM.”

“I don’t have any money,” I said.

And then he paused, staring at me, and then he turned a shade of white as he finally realized he wasn’t staring at some seductive babe—just a man dressed like one.

He stuttered. His face flushed. His jaw was left open, but no proper words came out.

“Surely, there’s another way that I can… pay you,” I said. Now, the urges to fight back were strong, but Marissa was putting in all of her might. She’d been waiting a long, long time for this opportunity, and she wasn’t about to let me ruin it. I tried to pull myself away from that counter. I wanted to run back into the bathroom, wash my face, and then run away to the hospital, but her willpower was stronger than ever. I managed to twist my body. I managed to turn my head away—but she fought until I was back at the counter, staring at the young man.

I bit down on my tongue, eliciting a small “ouch!”.

“W—What are you suggesting, Miss?”

“I’m open to ideas,” I said with a smile that did not belong to me.

“I’m sorry,” he said, turning his gaze down. “I—I don’t know what you mean, but—but I have to go on my break. Do you want to buy a ticket or not? I’ll be back in forty minutes if you want to think about it.”

“Do you want to spend your break with me?” I asked with a small wink. I tried to pull myself away again.

He stood there, glossy-eyed, stunned, and in shock. He stuttered again, and then he looked away. “I—I don’t know what you’re trying to suggest, miss.”

“I’ll suck your cock until you come on my face,” I said. And those words were just as shocking to me as they were to him. We both gasped. A coldness crept down my spine. Had Marissa lost her mind!? Was she trying to ruin my life?

“No!” I said.

“No?” the man said.

“Sorry,” I said. “I meant to say, there’s no way that you can turn down an offer like that. I promise it will feel so, so good.” She was leaning me forward again, bending over the counter, talking in that sensual voice, that sounded a lot like Pam Anderson—and maybe that’s what she was going for. “I can see that you want it,” I said, motioning down at the huge bulge in his pants. “Just think of how fucking good it would feel: your big, hard dick in my mouth—my tongue sliding all around it.”

“I—I can’t give you a free ticket, miss. It—It’s not how it works. I have to process a payment to print a ticket.”

“Then buy me one,” I said. “And I’ll let you come all over my face.”

“Okay,” the man said suddenly, dark red in the face. I couldn’t believe he was agreeing to the arrangement. Now, I knew I had to get away; I had to use the last of my energy to escape that bus station, before I did something that I would regret for the rest of my life.

But Marissa’s willpower was intense. She was putting in all of her energy, forcing me to follow that young man into the staff area of the bus station. He motioned for me to stop before creeping up to an office door. He peeked inside and then he turned back to me. “Okay, he’s gone on his break. C’mon. This way.”

I tried to run away, but her ghostly strength was just too much. “I don’t want to do this,” I managed to whisper.

“Shut it,” she said.

“You can’t do this,” I said. “This is so wrong.”

“There’s mouthwash in that bag we stole,” she said.

“So what!? What is that supposed to mean?”

“Are you talking to me?” the young man said, turning back.

Now, I was quickly shaking my head. He took a moment to scan my body. He bit his bottom lip. His bulge was still big: an erection that was ready to burst… at least he wasn’t going to take long…

No! I couldn’t suck a man’s cock. I was straight. I liked girls. I’d never had a sexual experience with a man, and I wanted to keep it that way. I didn’t want some guy’s dick touching my tongue, mouthwash or not.

I managed to gain some strength, turning around and bolting for the door. But Marissa managed to make my legs lock, making me fall to the ground, onto my face. The young man spun around and rushed over to me. “Are you okay!?” he asked. “What happened? Did you trip?”

He rolled me over, and now he was on top of me, looking down into my eyes. I just stared back up into his eyes. Suddenly, I had a strange image in my brain: the image of a handsome man, but I’d never seen the man before. He was smiling. He was so calming, so sweet, so caring… I knew he was Max, but why was I seeing him?

I had the strangest desire to want to see him—and I knew those desires belonged to Marissa.

Now, the man on top of me was frozen, staring into my eyes. “Fuck,” he said. “You’re really fucking hot.”

I was silent, full of fear, and I could tell that Marissa was terrified as well, realizing what she’d gotten herself—and myself—into. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but it wouldn’t go do. I watched his hands as they moved to his crotch, doing away with his belt, pulling it out before unzipping his fly. I looked around, feeling weak underneath him. I would have easily been able to overpower him before the heart attack—but now, I hardly had any energy at all.

He reached into his pants and pulled out a long, skinny cock. It must have been nine inches long, but it wasn’t any thicker than my six-incher. In fact, it was probably a bit thinner. He gripped it tight, making his tip turn red. “You’re so fucking hot,” he said again.

“L—Let me suck it,” Marissa said with reluctance. She didn’t want to suck it, and neither did I. But I didn’t have the strength to escape that situation and she was desperate to see Max.

“Okay,” the man said. He started to walk forward on his knees, bringing that cock closer to me. We weren’t even in a room; he was too horny to care, too horny to stop what he was doing. He had his reddened cock in his grip. He tilted it down towards my lips. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

For a moment, I was certain that this was a nightmare, and that I was about to wake up in that hospital bed. It was so surreal, having been a normal guy in a hospital just an hour earlier, and now I was dolled up like a girl, pinned underneath an erect man in a Greyhound bus station.

But the nightmare wasn’t ending—because it wasn’t a nightmare. There really was a man bending his throbbing tip against my mouth. “Open wide,” he whispered. He looked around before looking back down at me. “Holy fuck, you’re so fucking hot.”

And did he know that I was actually a man? He saw me before, and I’m sure he recognized me as the same person… did he just not care? Was he too horny to care? Maybe it just made no difference to him: a mouth is a mouth.

I opened my mouth wide, pushing out my tongue. He let his skinny cock press against the flat of my tongue, sliding back towards the back of my throat. “Oh God,” I managed to whisper, but he kept going. I felt his throbbing veins. I felt his foreskin stretching back. That was a real cock, and it was really in my mouth!

I closed my eyes, though I think it might have been Marissa’s doing, because a moment later, the image of Max was in my mind again. He wasn’t a huge macho guy; he was built a lot like me: thinner, shorter, scruffy hair. But he had a handsome face (not that I didn’t think I was handsome, but Max had that teen heartthrob Zac Efron kind of look to him, with a prominent jaw and a defined brow.

I kept my eyes closed, now picturing Max on top of me, with his cock out, pubic hair trimmed respectfully, shaft curved upwards at the perfect angle. I pushed out my tongue and slithered it around the shaft in my mouth, eliciting a moan from the Greyhound employee. “Fuck, that feels so good,” he moaned.

Then, I suddenly hand my hand between his legs, clutching his ball sack, squeezing and massaging gently. He liked it; now he was moaning louder, using his hips to thrust himself in and out of my mouth. H was pushing deep—much deeper than I was comfortable with. I gagged, but it didn’t stop him. He grunted. Suddenly, he was gripping my hair with his hand, pulling my head up, forcing more of his cock down into my mouth. I squirmed. Marissa tried to help me, using my hands to push his abs, to push him back, but he was determined, and my body was weak, even with Marissa’s ghostly presence inside of me.

“Tell me how much you like it,” he grunted, pulling his long, dripping shaft out from my mouth. He let it hover over my nose, dripping between my eyes. “Tell me how much you like my dick.” His voice cracked as he said it. “You want a bus ticket, right? If it’s coming out of my paycheque, you’d better talk dirty with me, beautiful.”

“I—I like your cock,” I said.

He tilted it down, and then I licked its length, from the base right to the tip, giving it a little flick, tasting his sweet pre-cum. I was not expecting it to be so sweet.

Now, he was getting carried away. He pushed his shaft down deep, pushing into my throat—and then he kept pushing. I gagged and tried hard to push him back, but he just couldn’t help himself. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned. He trembled all over, letting out an elated sound, that I was sure would be accompanied by a throatful of cum.

But he wasn’t finished. Now, he was thrusting.

I just wanted this to be over with, so I gripped his cock with my fist and started to jerk him off. I think that was me and not Marissa, though it was hard to tell; I’m sure we both wanted that moment to be over with. I tugged him quickly, sucking on his tip, until he was moaning loudly. Then, I pulled him out of my mouth and aimed his tip at my chin. He tried to take his cock from me, to aim it at the middle of my face, but I fought him. He grunted and I did the same.

But he ended up winning, just in time. His cock pulled up and then he splashed my face with his hot streaks of thick white ooze. He groaned loudly before using a finger to pry my mouth open. He made sure to shoot a blast onto my tongue, as if he was doing me some sort of favor. Then, I opened my eyes and saw that he had a big blushing smile.

“You didn’t last very long,” Marissa said, using my voice.

Then, he turned white, pressing his lips thin. “I guess you’re really good,” he said. “Take it as a compliment.”

“I’ll take it as you’re a premature ejaculator.”

I don’t know why she was being a brat with the guy; did she want the ticket or not? The man was clearly offended and emasculated by her comment.

“I’m not. It’s just—It’s been a while. I’ve been doing No-Nut November.”

“I don’t know what that is. Can you please get off of me so I can clean your virgin cum off of my face?”

He managed to look even more horrified and offended. “I’m not a virgin!” he snapped, jumping off of me. “I should kick you out of here!”

“You promised me a ticket!” I said, jumping to my feet, using my wrist to wipe the cum off of my face. “So give me a ticket! Or I’ll tell your boss that you just took advantage of a severely unwell patient.”

“What are you talking about?” he said, turning even more pale.

“Just print the ticket, Jack! Enough of this nonsense.”

“Okay, okay!” he said, rushing by me. “But this is coming out of my pocket—and that blowjob wasn’t that great. I’m doing you a favor.”

I groaned and rolled my eyes. I knew he was full of shit. I knew that it was the best blowjob he’d ever had—and not just because it was the only one that he’d ever had. He practically ejaculated a pint of cum. He was still trembling with euphoria. My blowjob was perfectly fine; it was amazing, in fact, and I wanted him to admit it.

So I grabbed the back of his shirt, stopping him from getting too far away from me. He stopped and spun around, looking into my eyes. “What is it?”

“Admit that you loved it,” I said.

“A deal is a deal—but that doesn’t mean I loved it.”

“You hardly lasted a minute. You loved it. Just admit it.”

“Lou, what are you doing?” I whispered to myself.

“Not now.”

“Who are you talking to?” the employee said, looking around nervously. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t mind that. Just admit that you liked the blowjob.”

“Lou, stop,” Marissa hushed.

I don’t know why I cared. I don’t know why I was making a big deal out of something that I didn’t actually care about. I took a deep breath and tried to summon some sense into myself, but I couldn’t straighten my thoughts. I just wanted to hear him admit that the blowjob was good.

“Alright!” he said. “It was good. Fine. It was really good. But—you gagged a lot. I mean—it was kind of hot, but learn to take a cock.”

“Fuck you,” I growled.

“Lou!” Marissa hushed.

“You’re nuts,” he said, shaking his head. But we got what we wanted. He printed a ticket. He handed it to me and I snatched it from his hand before marching over to the bathroom to fix my makeup.

I thought about washing it all off, but I didn’t have boy clothes to change into; I only had that bag of women’s clothing that I stole from the hospital, and if I was going to be wearing women’s clothing, then I wanted to keep that makeup disguise on my face.

I spent the next thirty minutes in that bathroom, essentially starting from scratch, because I had to wipe away so much while cleaning off the cum. This time, I did a bit better. My hands were a bit steadier, and I had a better idea of what I was doing. I made cleaner lines with that eyeliner pen, and then I used a softer blue for the eyeshadow, which was a bit more flattering for my face.

I still felt like a total idiot, dressing up like a woman to appease a ghost. I still wasn’t convinced that I wasn’t having some sort of full-blown mental breakdown, but Marissa seemed genuine. She had a strong will, and if she was real, I just couldn’t let her down—because she was right: she did save my life. She took over that truck on that stormy road and she managed to bring it to a stop, and she managed to call an ambulance for me. Without her, I would have died on that highway, in the same place that she died—and then we probably would have ended up stuck together, both with unfinished business that we would never be able to finish because of where we ended up.

I’d come this far. I’d already sucked a man’s cock for her, so travelling a few hours and talking to some guy wasn’t going to kill me.

I came out of the bathroom slowly, looking around carefully and nervously. A few gazes turned my way. A couple of men scanned my body before turning away. The place was much busier now: people showing up for that bus ride to Shediac. I tried to make a wide-berth around the station to find a seat, but gazes still found me and watched me. It certainly didn’t help that I was wearing a tight dress.

“I look like such an idiot,” I whispered, groaning under my breath.

“Don’t be such a downer. You look hot.”

“I don’t want to look hot.”

“Well, you do look hot. You’re hotter than I was when I was alive.”

An older man heard me talking to myself. He gave me a strange look. I just smiled at him and shuffled away. “I know you’re just lying to me,” I said.

“I’m not lying. You’re a natural cutie. This dress was made for you.”

“Now you’re just tormenting me.”

“Oh, get over yourself. You’re just fishing for compliments and you know it.”

We found a seat in the back corner of the place. I tugged down my dress before sitting. Then, I had to cross my legs so that nobody would see up my skirt. I felt so exposed—so vulnerable—much more vulnerable than when I was wearing the opened hospital gown.

Guys kept turning to eye me: just quick gazes, and I couldn’t tell if they were looking at me to figure out if I was insane, or if they were checking me out. At first, I was sure that it was the former, but after a few minutes, I wasn’t so sure. One guy smiled at me, and then another sent a wink my way. I bit my tongue and looked down at my legs, seeing my leg hair. It was blonde and hard to see from a distance, but it looked so silly now. “You really need to shave,” I whispered—and it was Marissa speaking through me.

“I’m not shaving.”

“I’m not being seen like this.”

“I told you: I’m not shaving.”

“I think I saw a razor in that makeup bag. How long until the bus comes? Get up; we need to deal with this.”

“I’m not shaving,” I said firmly. But Marissa’s will was strong; she really didn’t want to be seen with leg hair… but that wasn’t all. Once she got me into the bathroom, it wasn’t just the leg hair she fought to remove; my armpit hair went as well—as well as my pubic hair. I would have fought her, but we were holding a razor, and I didn’t want to find out what a sharp cut to the scrotum felt like.

“Luckily, your cute little cock is easy to hide,” she whispered.

“It’s not little,” I said. “It’s an average size!”

“Honey, I’m not sure who’s been telling you that you’re average. It’s small. But don’t get so wound up; it’s cute. It’s so smooth, and it’s funny the way it flops around.”

“Stop looking at my dick,” I said.

“You’re the one looking at it.”

“Because I’m making sure you’re not cutting me!”

“Lou… you’re getting worked up. I need you to calm down. And please—do you hear how I’m talking right now? Try to use this voice until I’m done with you. I don’t want any embarrassing voice slips.”

“This is a nightmare,” I groaned.

“Oh, get over yourself. Why not just enjoy yourself? How many guys get to spend the day as a girl? I mean—think about it: you can do anything. You don’t know anybody in this entire province. Nobody will recognize you, and you have a real girl inside of you.”

“So?” I said.

“So—I can tell you exactly how to behave to be convincing. I can help you style your outfit, your hair, your makeup. I can give you tips. I can help you walk and talk like a girl.”

“I don’t want to be a girl!”

“Could have fooled me,” she said, and I felt myself rolling my eyes.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She made the last swipe, taking away that last strip of pubic hair.

“Well?” I said.

“You just—you seem to like it. You really liked sucking that guy’s dick. And good for you. It’s fun, and it takes a lot to admit it.”

“I did not!” I snapped. “And I’d appreciate it if you would stop teasing me now. You’re lucky that I’m letting you use me. I could bring this whole stupid plan to an end right now, and you would be suck on the side of that road for another decade. Be more appreciative.”

“Did I mention to you that I can read your thoughts?” she said suddenly, taking me by surprise.

“What?” I said. I felt a coldness tingling under my skin.

“Like, I can’t read them super clearly, but when I’m in you, all of your thoughts pass through me, just like how my thoughts are passing through you… I’m sure you’ve noticed them—no?”

I had noticed a few images here and there, and a few strange ‘feelings’. Like, when I was putting on that dress… it just filled me with a strange sense of joy, but I knew that wasn’t a natural sensation. And the heels that we dug out of that bag; they made me perk up in a way that I’d only ever perked up watching game-seven of some epic series between two powerhouse teams. And now, as I glared up at the mirror, I was feeling those unfamiliar feelings again. I had the strangest urge to just stare at myself, to admire my thick eyelashes, to gaze at my glossy lips. I was cute, and it felt nice to be cute, even though the sensible part of me was telling me that it was the last thing I wanted.

“I just want to get this over with,” I grumbled.

“Soon,” she said. “I only have nine hours and change left to figure this out.”

“And if we don’t make it,” I said. “Can I go back and pick you up?”

“No,” she said. “Unless you can find a way to get one foot into my realm again. It would mean triggering a heart attack, or some other near-death experience. It wouldn’t be safe, and—no offence—but you’re aren’t super bright and you would probably just end up killing yourself. I suppose you could find a medium: a real one, and not one of those scam artists—and you could get her to go to the highway and channel me… maybe have Max there with you, because it would probably only last a few minutes. I suppose that could work, but there are a lot of stars that would have to align to make it happen. Let’s not think about those what-ifs now. I have you and you’re letting me use you.”

“I’m not sure we’re on the same page there,” I said, rolling my eyes.

Then, another voice rang out. “Is there a man in here?” It was a woman, on the other side of the bathroom stall. “This is the women’s bathroom. I’ll call security right now.”

I opened the bathroom door and looked at her. She stared at me for a long moment. “Who are you talking to?” she asked.

“Myself. Get over it,” Marissa said through me.

Then, the woman turned a pale shade. After we left the bathroom, I didn’t see her in the station. I have a feeling she took her things and left, worried that she was going to end up on a bus with some lunatic killer.

It was only a few minutes later when our bus pulled into the station. My body perked up as Marissa filled with excitement. “I’m finally going to see Max,” she whispered, with a big smile on her face.