Check out the Old Man's War universe by John Scalzi. It involves, among other things, the transfer of consciousness between bodies.
Without getting too spoileriffic, in this universe consciousness cannot be effectively stored, only transferred. New bodies are carefully prepared, with matching genetics and underlying brain structure, memories, psychology and the like are imprinted onto it, then the consciousness process is transferred from the old body to the new via a bridge. The person being transferred is aware throughout the process; they don't go to sleep in one body and wake up in the other, they feel themselves gradually merging into the new body. After the transfer, the new body is awake and aware, and the old body is alive and undamaged but no longer 'awake'.
This has always struck me as an excellent way to avoid the problem of mind transfer, as well as an excellent definition of what consciousness is - it's not a thing that can be copied, it's a continuous process that can be transferred.
Edited to Add:
Thinking about this question got my writing spirit up; so here's something of how I would see it working.
The new body stared mindlessly ahead. I tried not to meet its eye – seeing myself as a mindless husk was always a disturbing sensation.
“Can you hear me?” the tech asked, pen poised over her clipboard.
“Yes,” I said, shifting my focus to her hip. It was much nicer to look at.
“What colour is a banana?” she asked.
“Yellow.” She nodded, made a note on her clipboard, and turned to the new body.
“Can you hear me?” she said again. The body said nothing. The tech nodded, apparently satisfied, and made another note.
“Are you ready, Mr. Werrf?” she asked, turning back to me. I swallowed hard, and nodded. She gave me a small smile – a moment of human contact before doing something so totally inhuman – then folded a screen down in front of my eyes.
“Please recite the numbers you see,” she said crisply, all business. Numbers began to flash on the screen in red; 4, 9, 7, 13. I recited them as they appeared.
My skin began to tingle, as if my entire body had gone to sleep and was waking again to pins and needles. More red numbers appeared on the screen; 8, 12, 5, 6…
It was growing harder to say the numbers. My mouth felt numb, and I grew dizzy, as if I was floating away from my body. My tongue flopped out of control and I bit it; a moment of harsh pain. The numbers blurred in front of me…8 or 3…6 or 5…red or…blue? I blinked.
The pretty technician was still watching me, standing off to one side. Forget the numbers. I focused on her face and her hair, tied up in a neat bun with a few strands running down the back of her neck, and I realized I could see both sides of her at once. My head spun, and I tried to feel nausea at the strange sensation, but there was no body there to rebel against me.
For a long moment I stared at the room from two pairs of eyes; then…I don’t know quite how to describe it. That sensation when you’re pushing and pushing, and suddenly there’s no resistence; suddenly, with an almost tangible slithering pop, the strangeness vanished. Blue numbers flashed on the screen in front of me. 2. 7. 4.
I took a long breath. The pain was gone. The tightness in my chest just wasn’t there any more. I blinked, and realized that my vision was clear. Even the air smelled fresher.
The tech lifted the screen away from me and smiled again. I couldn’t help it. I smiled back.
“Can you hear me?” she asked, her voice light and musical. I nodded.
“Yes,” I said.
Across the room, two more techs recovered the mindlessly staring body that I had occupied for so long. For a moment, I caught my own eye; but it was as lifeless and insensible as the new body had been just a moment before.