The Switch
Part 8 — The Final Chapter
With everyone “dressed to impress” for a night on the town, Harold had Spitshitz take them to the Boston Eagle. The traditional atmosphere of the club lent to a more reserve clientele and when the patrons saw Herbie, Gordon and Spitshitz, they were far from impressed. In fact, several of them inquired as to whether or not the management was going to ask this crew that clearly had no sense of decorum, to leave. Even with all the whispers, Herbie walked around the club, juggling his balls, Gordon sat down next to Harold and Jonathan could not keep his tongue out of Spitshitz’s mouth. He was so in love with him and just felt that he was the perfect ornament to have at his side. He dreamed of covering Spitshitz with satin suits, shirts and ties, and have him wear velvet shoes.
After a couple of drinks and a cigar, Harold suggested they go to their next stop. Spitshitz went to get the car while the others waited outside. Jonathan could not stop looking at his reflection in the window and commented on how dreamy he must have appeared to those men who sat at the bar. He noticed how a hot redhead was checking him out and said it was too bad he had a tailcoat this evening since it was covering his tight buns.
The next stop was Club Café. Once inside, Harold had Jonathan sit at the piano bar and sing a few tunes. Jonathan was given some private instructions and grabbed the mic to sing to the crowd. He was so bad the manager came over and asked him to stop immediately. Offended by this poor treatment, Harold had the guys leave for their next destination, Paradise. It was Drag Show night and Harold suggested to Jonathan and Spitshitz that they needed to enter. He paid two employees at the club to take them back stage and give them a make-over. They came out on stage dressed in long evening gowns with sequins, wigs, false eye lashes, make-up, long gloves, stockings and high heels. Clip on earrings that glittered in the stage lights completed their costumes. The two of them then danced the tango on stage. During the intermission, Herbie went up to show off his juggling skills and the show continued. Jonathan and Spitshitz won first place in the amateur category which wasn’t hard as they were the only entry. While they got out of their costumes backstage, the audience called for an encore to which Harold said the words “choo-choo” into the mic. Immediately, Herbie knelt on the floor of the stage, sticking his butt into the air. Gordon went behind him and unzipped the secret zipper in the rear of Herbie’s costume. He then removed the covering from the front and rear of his chaps and shoved his cock into Herbie. Spitshitz came back to the stage, removed his thong and butt plug, and then shoved his cock into Gordon. And Jonathan returned wearing his formalwear and top hat, his face still covered with make-up, and his false eyelashes on. He unzipped his pants and mounted Spitshitz, wiggling his hips as he shoved his hard cock in without lube.
Gordon made a train whistle noise and immediately, all of them pushed their cocks into the anal cavity of the guy in front of them while putting their arms around his shoulders. Jonathan raised his arm and made a pumping motion and Gordon would make his whistle noise over and over. The crowd roared and yelled for more. “Chug a chug a chug a chug” they chanted as they pushed harder and harder into the man in front of them. Harold had the band play some music and Jonathan broke out singing “One singular sensation, every little step I take” and the crowd went wild as he continued to sing. He knew the words and the tune and sang it as if he had been practicing for months. “… do I have to mention, I’m the ONE.” He was on key and had rewritten the song to be all about him. He got up and continued to sing, going over to Herbie and shoving his cock into Herbie’s mouth. “Kiss the day good bye, and I’ll point you toward tomorrow. You won’t be the man you were. Won’t regret what I did for love. What I did for love.” Herbie sucked hard on Jonathan’s cock; so hard that Jonathan exploded all over Herbie who could not swallow it fast enough. Cameras were out taking pictures of the whole thing. Jonathan spent the next few minutes taking his bows and applause for he knew the crowd loved him this evening. He went over to Spitshitz and forced his plug back into his arse. Harold offered $100 to anyone who sent him the photos they took this evening and had a line asking for his number.
Their final stop was the Union Club. Herbie’s clown costume was covered in semen; Jonathan still had his false eyelashes and make-up on, and Gordon’s cock was hanging out of his chaps; Spitshitz was the only one who redressed himself by putting his thong back on and adjusting his plug. They were met at the door and were told they were not properly dressed to enter the club, that jackets were required by all members, but Harold had Gordon push the guy out of his way. Once inside, he ordered a round of drinks and had Jonathan fuck Spitshitz. “Sir, this behavior is not allowed in here and I must ask you to leave.” but Harold ignored the manager and told Gordon to stand up. “Is your bouncer ready to take on my boy Gordon here?” The manager decided to avoid a conflict and called the police. Harold decided it was time for them to leave.
On the way home, Gordon felt like something was wrong with him. When he was pushed up against Herbie, he smelt a familiar scent; one that he had not smelled in a long time but could not remember how he knew it. He kept trying to remember in the car all the way home but kept coming up blank. The others were really drunk and tired. Spitshitz took them all back to the residence where Harold had Herbie bunk in the apartment below with Gordon. Jonathan went to his room to clean up and remove his false eyelashes.
Harold placed a suggestion into Herbie’s mind to call his office and let them know he was going on an extended vacation with his son before they went to bed. The next morning, news of their outing made the financial sections of the NY Times, Wall Street Journal and Boston Globe, complete with pictures that had portions redacted. Harold had hoped to blackmail Herbie with the pictures that were sent to his phone but now that was not going to happen. A reporter was in the audience at Club Café and followed them from club to club, taking pictures and making copious notes. Jonathan’s supervisor called him and let him know he was fired due to his violating the morals clause of his contract. He was told his personal belongings would be sent to him via messenger. Herbie was more fortunate as no one recognized him in his clown attire and make-up. “This was not how I wanted things to go. That damn reporter has ruined everything.” Harold kept telling himself and he managed to get so worked up that he had a stroke. Jonathan told Spitshitz to call for the EMT’s and then went to his room to freshen up, leaving Harold on the floor in the study. He thought the color of his suit was not appropriate for a trip to the hospital and wanted to dress in something more subdued. While the EMT’s carried Harold from the residence, Jonathan was in his room, brushing his hair, making sure it was perfect. He also took time to trim his nasal hairs and to put a new coat of clear nail polish on. When he finished, he ordered Spitshitz to bring the car around front.
While this excitement was taking place in Jonathan’s condo, Herbie and Gordon were downstairs in Gordon’s apartment. They started their day off with Herbie calling his office and then getting lessons on the proper form for lifting weights. He could barely bench the bar with 20-pound weights on each side but kept giving it a try. Gordon found it amusing and turned his attention back to his workout routine. His focus was on completing it and then having lunch, but today, no one brought any food down. Herbie suggested they go out and he could complete the second leg of his workout when they returned. The two of them headed out—Herbie dressed in another of his “new suits” and Gordon in leather shorts, hiking boots and a torn t-shirt. They went to a local diner where Herbie ordered a roast turkey sandwich on rye with gravy and again, Gordon felt like there was something familiar about this but didn’t know why.
Jonathan arrived at the hospital and told them not to spare any expense, that he wanted the best doctors they had to care for his father. They said his father was in ICU and that the staff was preparing to run some tests as he was unresponsive, and they wanted to find out what was going on with him. It was suggested that Jonathan wait in the lounge or return home, that his father was in a coma and they would call when they had any news. Jonathan opted to go back to his condo. Once there, he contacted The Dance Complex to set up tap lessons and Amy Dancz for voice lessons. For the next 4 weeks, while Harold laid in his hospital bed in a coma, Jonathan spent 6 hours a day taking dance lessons and another 6 taking voice lessons. His thoughts were only of going back to the clubs he visited to perform for his fans and show them his new dance routine. He even thought of ordering a satin tailcoat, top hat, vest, pants and tie in silver.
With Harold in the hospital, there was no one to play the tapes that were once piped into Jonathan and Gordon’s bedrooms while they slept. However, in Jonathan’s condo, Spitshitz continued to turn on the music that was heard in every room during the day as this was part of his duties. Both Spitshitz and Jonathan continued to hear the subliminal messages that Harold had prepared for them. Since these were only played in Jonathan’s condo, Gordon and Herbie were no longer subjected to any of Harold’s messages. Gordon continued to work out daily as that was part of his routine now, but his training time kept decreasing. His memory was also starting to come back. A month had gone by without the tapes and one morning while shaving, he realized his face had been altered, and his hair color and style changed. Bruce and his staff arrived that afternoon for their regularly scheduled visit and when they went to do their thing, Gordon stopped them. He asked Bruce to color his hair back to the dark brown color it once was and while he did not mind the manicure, he stopped the staff from giving him a body wax. Bruce argued with him saying this is what Mr. Jonathan wanted for him, but Gordon threatened to break his legs if he didn’t do as he asked. He also told Bruce to cut his hair short on the sides, leaving some length on top and to cut a deep side part on the side. “Oh, you want it cut like Mr. Jonathan’s—I can do that!”
When Bruce was finished, Herbie saw Gordon and told him there was something familiar about him. “Oh Herbie, I don’t know why but I have often thought your scent was familiar to me as well.” “Don’t call me Herbie—it is either Herbert or Mr. Baxter young man!”, Herbie responded. Herbie had come out from under Harold’s spell and when he saw how he was dressed, immediately changed into the bespoke suit he wore when he arrived. He cleaned himself up and could not believe he was ever dressed in such a humiliating way.
Seven weeks have now passed since Harold entered the ICU. The specialist in charge of his care called Jonathan and said he was afraid there was nothing more they could do, that while his body was still functioning, his brain was dead. Jonathan was told he would need to decide about prolonging Harold’s life any further and he told the Doctor he would do so within the next couple of days or so, but to maintain Harold’s medical care for now. He hung up as it was time for his afternoon voice and dance lessons. He couldn’t wait to put on his tailcoat and white tie for today he was going to dance a solo with a cane and top hat. And after dinner, he and Spitshitz were going to spend the night in his bed. “That piece of crap Harold is gone, and I am now the master of this place. Hmm, do I pull the plug and rid myself of him forever or do I keep him around? Decisions, decisions, decisions. No time to worry about that now—I have my dance lesson to worry about and later on, mmm! It’s an evening with that hot servant! Oh my, I have a hair that is sticking up. I need to fix that before anyone sees me.” He thought about the music that was piped in around the condo and it was beginning to bore him, so Jonathan ordered Spitshitz to stop playing that crap. Instead, he was to make and play recordings of Master Jonathan singing show tunes during his voice lessons.
Herbert left for his home in Greenwich and went back to work. His memories of those few weeks in Boston were a blur and not ones he cherished. He could not believe his son associated with such people, but he had to do some damage control for his own company. The picture of his son shooting semen all over a man in a clown suit was causing some of his clients to want to take their business elsewhere. Meanwhile, Gordon was remembering more and more; his childhood; his school days; his ability to speak German, French, Italian, Japanese, Chinese, Russian, Farsi and Arabic was returning; his business sense had come back as well. He started reading the financial sections of all the major newspapers as well as the society pages. He knew his name was not Gordon but could not remember what it really was. Meanwhile, Jonathan was finding he had no interest in business affairs and stopped reading the financial sections of the paper, replacing them with the theatre section. His command of the English language was also declining. He no longer spoke with the formality of a gentleman. Instead, his vocabulary was becoming more and more a common vernacular. With his busy schedule, he had not seen Gordon in weeks and didn’t even know that Herbert had returned home. He didn’t care what the clown and idiot were doing. He had enough on his plate and didn’t want to get a wrinkle on his face by worrying about them.
A few days past since Jonathan met with the doctors and decided to send Spitshitz to get Gordon. “I guess it is time to tell my dumb shit brother the news and then call the hospital to tell them to pull the plug on the old bugger.” Jonathan told himself. As Gordon entered the condo, he saw his furniture, his art collection, and it came back to him. He was Jonathan Robert Baxter. He was sold by his mother to the Baxter’s who raised them as their own son and was a genius with business mergers. He started for his room and found all of Harold’s clothing in there. In the closet was a compartment that was not familiar to him, so he opened it finding the tapes Harold was using on all of them. Jonathan came in and asked what the hell he was doing in this room. He replied, “this is MY bedroom and this is MY apartment.” He then turned around and saw his face on the man in front of him. “You! You did this to me! You made me look like this and you took my life!” and he picked his brother up and threw him against a wall covered with mirrors. As they broke, Jonathan heard his tailcoat tear and then saw blood coming from his shirt cuff. Glass from the mirror had pierced through his sleeve, cutting his arm. Spitshitz ran in and saw what had happened but didn’t do anything. His memory too was returning. “Sir, what is this ridiculous uniform you have me in?” he asked. “Where are my pants and what is this thing in my arse?” He pulled the horsetail plug out and threw it at Jonathan telling him he quit.
“Help me dear, help me take care of this piece of shit.” Jonathan told him referring to Gordon. Spitshitz told him he was leaving and went to his room to change. Jonathan ran after him and tried to hug and kiss him only to have Spitshitz strike him in the jaw over and over. When he finished, Jonathan’s jaw was shattered. Spitshitz packed and left while Jonathan called for a limo to take him to the hospital. Gordon looked at the closets that were filled with clothes, the jewelry boxes filled with gold and platinum bracelets and chains, watches, pocket watches, rings, tie bars, stick pins, as well an extensive collection of cufflink and tie tack sets. “There has to be a good million dollars in jewelry here” he thought. “I need to put a stop to this now!”
Jonathan went to the hospital to get his jaw tended to, but Gordon had already called the bank to close all his accounts and put a stop on his credit cards. With no money to pay for surgery, the staff at the ER wired his jaw shut and told him that was all they could do without an ability to pay. He went upstairs to the ICU and told them to pull the plug on the old geezer, that there was “no money to pay for their services, so no point in keeping the old bugger tickin’.” The staff did as he requested, and Harold passed away almost immediately. He returned to the apartment to find a workman there changing the locks. “Get the hell out of my home and out of my life. And, stop using my name. If I find you doing so again, I will have you arrested. Your name is Jake not Jonathan and you’re not even a Baxter.” Jake looked at how angry his brother was and asked him if he would at least pay to have his jaw fixed. “On one condition brother. You let me choose the surgeon.”
Having little choice, Jake agreed, and Jonathan made arrangements for them to see a specialist in Hong Kong. Once there, Jonathan spoke to the surgeon in Chinese. Jake could no longer remember the language but trusted his brother who promised that he would make sure his jaw would be repaired. Jonathan gave the surgeon a picture and told him his brother wanted to look like the man in it; that they were to do a complete make over and that he wanted a couple of other modifications. The surgeon said this would take a month or two, but he would see what he could do. Jonathan returned to the US and sold his apartment as well as the one below his. He cleared out his brother’s suits and got rid of his leather clothing. He kept Harold’s tweed suits though and shipped them overseas. He had an entirely new wardrobe made for himself and sent to his family’s residence in Greenwich. He went through the jewelry, keeping many of the pieces and donating the rest to charity.
He returned to Hong Kong for his brother. It was time get him out of his bed, unwrap his head and show him his new face. Some work had been done to his body as well, but he was so sedated all the time that he never knew what was being done. The aides helped him dress in his new suit, but he found it difficult to stand up so they had him sit on the side of the bed. Once dressed, they cut the bandages off his face. He was wearing a polyester shirt with a bowtie, a tweed suit with a plaid vest; a pair of half boots, fresh flower and pocket watch finished off his new look. His body was a bit shorter than before and he walked with a shuffle since one leg was now 3″ shorter than the other. As for his face? Weil, he now looked like an old man with grey hair, totally bald on the top. He now had a turkey neck; a second chin was created by adding bone and fat just below his chin creating a second chin. In fact, he looked exactly like Harold. When he saw himself, he screamed! “No, No, No! What have you done to me! No, I can’t go through life like this. How can I perform? What about my fans?” and sobbed like a baby. The next day, Jake was admitted into Kwai Chung Hospital. All of Harold’s clothes were there waiting for him. He now walks the four corners of the room, pulling his left leg behind him since it is longer, and calling himself Jonathan Baxter. He keeps asking the staff to call his father Harold, and asking for his lover, Spitshitz. He has this blank stare on his face and cannot look at himself in a mirror. He screams every time they use one to help his shave as he cannot stand to see his new face. He tried to sing and dance but can no longer do either. His vocal chords were also adjusted to make him sound like an old man. The staff at the mental hospital just shake their heads and leave him locked in his room calling him looney tunes.
As for the real Jonathan? Well, he was the doctor’s next patient. He had the doctor return his face back to the way it was and then he returned to his family estate. He lives a life of leisure, continues to work out but not as hard as he did when he lived in Boston, and he occasionally has these urges to dye his hair blonde and use a curling iron on it to put marcel curls in it.