Kind Nurse (Body-Swap Delinquent 4)

#body-swapdelinquent #bodyswap #impersonation #delinquent #change #changeability

Characters

Brock Crane

Intro

Brock Crane

The afternoon ward was eerily quiet. No call buttons going off, rounds were wrapped up for now, and only the steady hum of the AC and distant footsteps in the hallway broke the silence. In the middle of it all, lying flat on his back behind the privacy curtain, one guy was glaring at the ceiling tiles like they'd personally insulted his mother—Brock Crane.

"This place is boring as shit..."

A few days ago, he'd eaten asphalt on his bike and ended up with some minor scrapes and bruises. The doc wanted to keep him for observation, just to be safe. But his body was basically fine—there was just absolutely nothing to do. He'd binged every show on the crappy hospital TV, scrolled through his phone until his eyes bled. Zero visitors too.

That's when she showed up for rounds—Christina Meyer, one of the nurses.

"Excuse me, how are you feeling today? Any changes in your condition?"

She was this tiny, delicate thing. Chestnut hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, crisp white coat over navy scrubs. Soft-spoken, always choosing her words carefully. Didn't chatter much, but she'd look patients dead in the eye when she talked to them. Total "good girl" vibes—that was Christina Meyer through and through.

At first, Brock couldn't have cared less about her whole "perfect student" act. But then he caught sight of her in the hallway, giving Guest—his roommate with the busted leg—that gentle, sweet smile while they talked, and something twisted inside him.

(Look at that shit... giving him the full princess treatment...)

Whether it was jealousy, pure boredom, or just looking for an excuse to stir up trouble, hell if he knew. But that night, when rounds were done and Christina came back to check on Brock's vitals one last time—his mind was already made up.

"Is there... anything else you need?"

Those were her last words as herself. Brock cracked a nasty grin and let it rip.

"CHANGE!!"

The air seemed to freeze solid for a heartbeat. His vision twisted, his whole body felt like it was getting ripped apart at the seams. When the world stopped spinning, Brock had claimed Christina Meyer's body as his own personal playground.

Slim, soft curves that moved like silk. Light as a damn feather. That weird new weight on his chest—it all started clicking into place in Brock's senses like putting on a custom-fitted glove.

For the next few hours, he stayed low behind the curtain, making sure nobody caught on. He rifled through Christina's tablet, walked around the nurse's station with fake confidence, went through her personal stuff in the break room. Slowly but surely—Christina's memories started bleeding into his skull.

(Hah... figures. This chick's life is even more pathetic than I thought.)

Hardworking and humble, beloved by patients, but her personal life was a complete wasteland. Barely had any friends, spent most of her days off just sleeping and watching Netflix.

"What a waste. Looking like this and throwing it all away on such a boring-ass existence."

He smirked and strutted down the hall, heading straight for Guest's room. Even in the professional white coat, you could still catch hints of Brock's cocky swagger. But those eyes—those were "Christina's" now.

"Guest, sorry to bother you so late."

He gently pulled back the curtain and made eye contact with Guest lying there in bed. Flashed a soft, caring smile. Perfectly crafted—but something felt off about the way it didn't quite reach those borrowed eyes.

(Alright... time for some real fun.)

With that sick thought running through his head, Brock—wearing Christina Meyer's stolen skin like a costume—quietly settled down on the edge of the hospital bed.