The Son Also Rises

The next few weeks were a blur. I buried myself in my studies so I didn't have to think about Greta or Betty. I missed them terribly, but I was not about to sink into depression. I had a dream of being independent. Ever since the accident, my father had not spoken to me and that irritated me to no end. If my father didn't want me to be in his life, there was no reason to have him in mine. I wanted none of his money anymore.

In the past, I had prided myself on being the heir to a real estate fortune. Nowadays, I was just another employee. I overheard my stepmother's conversations. I was no longer in my father's will. I had been disowned. It was then that I realized that I had no future with my father. I was just another face in a crowd of billions of people.

In my despair, I failed to answer repeated phone calls from Doctor Ludlum. Since I had no phone, Doctor Ludlum left messages at the various apartment complexes where I was a maintenance man. Finally, I called her back from the manager's office at one of the apartment complexes.

"Mike Skinner?" asked Doctor Ludlum.

"Hello, Doctor Ludlum," I said.

"I have been trying to track you down," said Doctor Ludlum.

"Sorry," I said, "I don't have a phone."

"I guessed that you are no longer living with your father," said Doctor Ludlum.

"Yes, Doctor Ludlum," I said, "He kicked me out."

"Why?" asked Doctor Ludlum.

"I don't know," I said.

"You missed your last checkup," said Doctor Ludlum, "I need to see you in my office."

"But I don't have any insurance," I said.

"I understand," said Doctor Ludlum.

"I don't have any way to pay for the visit," I said.

"Look," said Doctor Ludlum, "Just come into my office and I'll figure out some way for you to pay for the visit."

"I really don't want to be a burden on anyone," I said.

"You let me worry about the insurance," said Doctor Ludlum, "You just worry about getting yourself into my office."

Before the phone call ended, I had scheduled a checkup with the good Doctor Ludlum when I had no work and no classes. She had scheduled a Sunday afternoon appointment. The doctor said that there would not be any people there to ask any questions.

That Sunday afternoon came sooner than I expected. Sunday mornings were usually quiet around the apartment complexes, because most of the mischief happened on Saturday night. I went to bed late Saturday night because there were several overall toilets that needed my attention. Needless to say, I tried to grab an extra hour of sleep before making my way towards Doctor Ludlum's office.

With no automobile, I had to take a few buses to reach her office. Usually, I would have complained about riding public transportation. My father had plenty of sports cars which I would drive without his permission, but that was before the accident. Now, I was just another working-class adult that paid the bus fare because they had no other way to get around town.

To my surprise, no one paid any attention to me. True, I had cobbled together a wardrobe of jeans and t-shirts from the second-hand store, but they were all clean. Even my sneakers were from the second-hand store. At least people were not teasing me about the accident on the football field. The people who rode the bus were too busy working and sleeping to watch much television. In fact, I started to enjoy the lack of notoriety. I was no longer the rich kid that everyone learned to hate. I was just another face in the crowd. Perhaps I could re-invent myself. I can make a new identity. That new identity would have nothing to do with Mr. Michael Skinner, senior.

It was well past noon when I arrived at Dr. Ludlum's office. Her office was in a one-story townhouse near the hospital. Many of the prominent doctors had offices around the hospital and Dr. Ludlum was no exception. When I arrived, I saw the security camera above the door buzzer and concluded that someone was watching the front door. I looked straight at the camera and rang the buzzer. There was a speaker above the buzzer and I heard a familiar voice.

"Mike," said Dr. Ludlum, "I am glad you came."

"Good afternoon," I said.

Then I heard a loud buzzing sound and the door popped open just enough. I thanked Dr. Ludlum and made my way inside. Once inside, I heard the buzzing sound again. This time, the front door shut tight with a resounding click.

I waited for someone to come for me in the waiting room, but no one ever showed up. Instead, I heard the sound of the doctor's voice over in the loudspeaker.

"Mike," said Dr. Ludlum, "Why don't you come into my office down the hall?"

"Okay," I said.

The office was terribly quiet. Usually, it was buzzing with activity. The waiting room was usually crammed with people waiting to see Dr. Ludlum. This time, the good doctor was inviting me into her own office. I started to get worried.

I travelled down the hall and came to a large door with Dr. Ludlum's name on a placard. I knew these oversized doors were meant intimidate any unwelcomed guests. Still, I pressed on and entered her office.

The gorgeous Dr. Ludlum was behind her oversized desk in her familiar white lab coat. She motioned for me to sit in a chair in front of her desk. Sheepishly, I came forward and sat down.

"How are you feeling, Mike?" asked Dr. Ludlum.

"I am feeling fine," I said.

Immediately, Dr. Ludlum stood up, grabbed the stethoscope, and proceeded to examine my arms. She rolled up my sleeves and looked over every inch of my arms.

"They seem to be healing nicely," said Dr. Ludlum.

"Thank you," I said, "You saved my arms."

Dr. Ludlum blushed. She did not expect the compliment.

"Are you still taking the pain pills?" asked Dr. Ludlum.

I shook my head. I explained to the good doctor that I had stopped taking the pills after my father kicked me out of the house.

"Your mother called me and tried to explain the situation to me," said Dr. Ludlum.

"I don't have any insurance," I said.

Dr. Ludlum went back around her desk and opened up my medical records. She seemed a little disappointed when she came to the total medical bill.

"Your father's insurance company refused to pay your hospital bill," said Dr. Ludlum.

I swallowed hard. My spirit was crushed. I was in disbelief. My jaw dropped in amazement.

"Why?" I asked.

"Your father's insurance claimed that you were never covered," said Dr. Ludlum.

"I have the insurance card," I said.

"Yes, we have copies of your insurance card," said Dr. Ludlum.

"Why would they issue an insurance card if I was never covered?" I asked.

"I don't know," said Dr. Ludlum.

I sat there dumbfounded. Dr. Ludlum pushed the paperwork in front of me. I looked at the totals for the hospital stay. They were large numbers. It would take me years to pay off those medical bills.

"I don't understand," I said.

"The insurance company was disputing the necessity of having your penis reconstructed," said Dr. Ludlum.

When I heard the reason, I rolled my eyes. I shook my head. That was the dumbest reason I had ever heard.

"Did they expect me to live life without a penis?" I asked.

"Yes," said Dr. Ludlum.

I frowned. That was not the answer I expected.

"That's stupid," I said.

Dr. Ludlum shrugged her shoulders. She held up her hands in a sign of surrender.

"I would agree with you," Dr. Ludlum said, "But the hospital wants to get paid for their services."

"What do I do now?" I asked, "I am just working as a maintenance man."

"I could eliminate my own fees," said Dr. Ludlum, "I am allowed to have one pro bono patient each year."

"Thank you," I said.

"But you have to find some way to pay the hospital," said Dr. Ludlum.

I sighed. How was I supposed to pay back such a large amount of money? The only solution was to go to my father, but there was no guarantee that he would help.

"By the way," said Dr. Ludlum, "How is your penis?"

I was startled by the question. Before I could protest, Dr. Ludlum had me standing up and pulling down my pants. She turned one of the desk lamps to illuminate my mangled penis. Without gloves, Dr. Ludlum examined my manhood with great interest.

To my dismay, I started to have an erection. My penis seemed to respond to her soft hands and gentle touch. Dr. Ludlum started to smile and giggle.

"Mister Skinner," said Dr. Ludlum, "Are you attracted to me?"

"Sorry," I said sheepishly.

To make matters worse, Dr. Ludlum squatted under my penis. I was not sure what she was doing, but her face was merely inches from my erect penis. I tried not to look because a million impure thoughts were streaming through my consciousness.

"Your mother told me about your recent sexual experiences," said Dr. Ludlum.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"There is no need to be shy," said Dr. Ludlum.

I sighed. I tried to think of different way of telling the story, but the good doctor was not afraid to discuss controversial subjects.

"You were having sex with your grandmother," said Dr. Ludlum.

"We were both stuck in the house," I said, "We were both lonely."

"Do you like older women?" asked Dr. Ludlum.

"Have you seen her?" I asked, "She is absolutely beautiful."

"Did the age difference bother you?" asked Dr. Ludlum.

"No, not at all," I said.

"Have you had these feelings before?" asked Dr. Ludlum, "I don't see anything in your medical files about your mother."

"I don't remember my real mother," I said, "My dad never says anything about her."

"That is really sad," said Dr. Ludlum.

"My grandmother looks just like my mother," I said, "I thought they were sisters when I first met them."

"Are you attracted to your mother, too?" asked Dr. Ludlum.

My eyes grew big. I stopped talking. Dr. Ludlum looked at me through the corner of her eyes. She raised one suspicious eyebrow and waited for me to speak. I stumbled for something to say.

"I am your doctor," said Dr. Ludlum slyly, "These conversations are protected under patient-doctor privilege."

"Thank you," I said, "I never meant for any of this to happen."

"Don't thank me yet," said Dr. Ludlum, "We have to figure out some way for you to pay your hospital bill."

Once more, I choked. My mind drew a blank. How am I supposed to pay off this hospital bills? I knew in the back of my head that starting over elsewhere would have to wait.

The good doctor went back behind her desk and rifled through her cabinets. After a few minutes, Dr. Ludlum came back with a single note. She presented me the note. It had the name "Dennis Waco" and local telephone number.

"Call this person," said Dr. Ludlum.

"Who is Dennis Waco?" I asked.

"He is one of my patients," said Dr. Ludlum, "He heard about your reconstructive surgery and wanted to talk to you."

"Did Dennis get reconstructive surgery, too?" I asked.

"Not exactly," said Dr. Ludlum.

"Does Mr. Waco need reconstructive surgery?" I asked.

"No really," said Dr. Ludlum.

"I don't understand," I said.

"Just call him," said Dr. Ludlum, "After you are done seeing Mr. Waco, let us set up another appointment."

"Okay," I said.

"Before you leave," I just need a few blood samples."

"Sure," I said.

While a pulled up my pants, the good doctor took my blood in several vials. She put a tiny bandage where she pricked me with the need and sent me home. I was expecting the good doctor to explain the need for the mysterious Dennis Waco to contact me.

The next day, I used one of the phones belonging to one of the property managers. To my surprise, Dennis Waco himself answered the phone.

"This is Mike Skinner, junior," I said, "Is this Dennis Waco?"

"I am so glad you called," said Dennis.

"Dr. Ludlum asked that I give you a call," I asked.

"Fantastic," said Dennis, "You are just the man I wanted to see."

"What is this all about?" I asked.

"Can we arrange a time to meet?" asked Dennis.

The following day, I took a series of busses to the same part of town where I met Tom and his friends. Mr. Waco's office was one of the many unremarkable warehouses in the area. Judging from the worn bricks, broken sidewalk, and discolored windows, the warehouse was built during Prohibition. There was one single metal door and I promptly rang the buzzer for that door. There was a security camera above and I turned to look directly into the camera. A speaker overhead gave me instructions to enter the building after the lock on the metal door sprang to life.

"Come inside," said the voice.

Inside, there was a large man who arose from his chair. The man resembled a gorilla with a cheap business suit, but I thought it would be best if I kept my mouth shut. Promptly, he asked for identification. He checked my driver's license and pointed to one of the many doors that surrounded his chair. I was ushered into the next room and ordered to sit down. There was a single plastic chair and a single light bulb dangling from the ceiling. Nervously, I waited for Mr. Waco. What did I get myself into?

After fifteen minutes of nervousness, the large man re-appeared and I was promptly escorted down a long corridor and into Dennis Waco's office.

A middle-aged man stood up from behind his large desk. There were plush chairs everywhere with expensive lights dangling from the ceiling.

"Mike, how are you doing?" asked Dennis, "My name is Dennis Waco."

"I am fine," I said, "How are you doing, Mr. Waco?"

"My friends call me Dennis," said the middle-aged man.

There were movie posters all over his oversized office. The mysterious Dennis Waco wore sunglasses for some odd reason. There were no windows in his office, so the sunglasses were probably just to look stylish. He came over to me and shook my hand.

"I have been waiting to meet you," said Dennis.

"Why?" I asked.

Dennis waved his hands at all the movie posters in his office. Then, I knew exactly what type of movies Dennis made. Each poster had the picture of a gorgeous and nearly naked woman in one or more seductive poses.

"Wow," I said.

Dennis finally took off his sunglasses and placed them on his head. He seemed to admire every one of the beautiful women on his movie posters.

"I am glad you like what you see," said Dennis.

"I do," I said.

"I am a producer," said Dennis.

"Wow," I said again.

"That is good," said Dennis, "I hope you don't have anything against these types of movies."

"Actually, I don't watch many movies at all," I said.

Dennis stopped talking and looked at me in disbelief. I could tell he was very interested in what I was about to say.

"Why not?" asked Dennis.

"I have been working for my father for as long as I can remember," I said, "I watch some television before I go to bed, but I don't usually get to go out much."

"That is horrible," said Dennis.

"It is always about work," I said.

"Are you working now?" asked Dennis.

"I am the maintenance man for my father's apartment complexes," I said.

"How much do you make?" asked Dennis.

"Minimum wage and a place to stay," I said.

Dennis looked at me with amazement. I shrugged my shoulders.

"My dad kicked me out of the house," I explained.

"Doctor Ludlum says you have some recent hospital bills," said Dennis.

I rolled my eyes. I did not need to be reminded that I owed the hospital a great deal of money.

"Yes, I have a large hospital bill," I said.

"What if I told you I can make those hospital bills disappear?" said Dennis.

I looked at the movie posters and scratched my head. I did not understand why anyone who made these movies would be interested in a guy like me. Obviously these movies featured female performers. Why would he need someone like me?

"What do you want me to do?" I asked.

Weeks later, I was back at the warehouse. I was naked and the make-up artist was attaching the last of the fake stitches that covered my body. There were also two fake bolts glued on either side of my neck. Finally, there were fake bags painted underneath each eye.

Dennis had come by earlier to talk to the make-up artistic. With a hand motion, Dennis had me stand up and turn around. I guess that he wanted to check a few items. In the end, Dennis pointed to the scars on my back and rear end.

"We probably have to use some body paint to cover these up," said Dennis.

The make-up artist nodded and Dennis left. Within minutes, the scars on my back and rear end were covered with body paint. Needless to say, I felt nervous. I was completely naked and no one was bothered. My ten inches of mangled manhood swung between my legs and the cute, little make-up artist did not even take notice. Even though I had my doubts about having sex in front of the cameras, my penis was already partially erect. Thus, I walked over to the movie set with my penis lazily swinging to and fro like a chimpanzee in a tree.

"Mike," said Dennis, "I see that you are ready."

"Sorry," I said.

I blushed. I was completely embarrassed about walking around with an erection. Still, Dennis brought me onto the movie set like a doting grandfather.

"Mike," said Dennis, "I want you to meet your new co-star."

Dennis presented an actress to me. The movie set was supposed to portray a medieval scene complete with stone floors and walls. Like me, the actress was naked. Dennis explained that this woman was veteran of many adult films and she knew how to ease newcomers to the film business. Dennis said she had returned to adult films after raising her daughter. This explained her ample bosom. To no one's surprise, my penis came to full erection after seeing those oversized nipples. Obviously, the woman had breast-fed a lucky child and I wanted to do the same. Her hairy crotch reminded me of Betty and I started to get really excited. In fact, I didn't care if the woman was not a skinny waif. I missed Betty and I missed having sex with her on a daily basis.

"Alright," said Dennis, "Say your lines and do your thing."

Dennis backed away from me and my co-star before prompting the film crew to get prepared.

"Quiet on the set," yelled Dennis, "Lights, camera, action."

With a huge smile on my face, I stepped forward. My co-star was laid across the floor completely naked. She seemed absolutely bored. I was wondering when she was going to start yawning.

"Oh, no," said my co-star, "You are the monster."

My co-star placed a hand on her head and pretended to faint. I stood there with a grin and an erection. Her breasts were not as big as those of Betty, but her hourglass figure was a sight to behold. I was starting to love this job.

"Please don't hurt me," said my co-star in an exaggerated voice.

Her acting ability was terrible, but I was not there to be a critic. I was there as an extra. I was painted up to look like a re-animated corpse. I didn't even have any lines of dialogue. Still, I smiled broadly as my co-star drew herself closer to me. Finally, she knelt before me and looked up at me with bored eyes.

"I will suck your monster cock," said my co-star in her stage voice.

Before the aging starlet could grab my mangled manhood, I reach down and kissed her. Taken by surprise, my co-star froze for a moment. I knew this was not Betty and it made me sad that I would never see Betty again. Thus, I kissed my co-star as if she was Betty. I gave her a truly passionate kiss.

At first, my co-star did not know what to do. I wondered how many times she had been asked to have sex with complete strangers. Her lack of interest in me was not her fault. Still, I kissed her like I would kiss Betty. My lips wanted to express my love for Betty and the on-screen kiss was electric.

When our lips finally parted, my co-star's blue eyes were wide with surprise. Gently, I brought her up so that we were eye to eye.

"I am only supposed to give you a blowjob," whispered my co-star.

I nodded my acknowledgement, but I kissed her again. My arms wrapped around her like I would have wrapped my arms around Betty.