Hey, I always feel like im stuck in a cycle. Im a 25 year old Caucasian guy in a dead end job. For once, Id love to be older something totally opposite of my life
Sighing as you pushed open the door to the music store, you tried to hide the conflicted expression on your face as you walked in. Lately, things have been feeling off for you. Even though you were still young and had plenty of things going for you, life just felt empty. Waking up every morning to go to a job that you didn’t care much for was slowly sapping away at your soul, and you felt trapped. Shouldn’t life be more exciting and enjoyable than this? Weren’t you supposed to be living up your life, especially in your youth? Such thoughts kept on racing through your head as you walked through the different aisles, idly flicking through and browsing different records. One of the things you liked doing was browsing through several of the shops in the Arts District. With various knick-knacks, cool trinkets, and unique figurines, the idle window shopping was oddly soothing for you.
It was rare for you to actually want to buy something, though. That was, until your fingers flicked over a rather worn-looking record. There were quite a few in the box, all featuring the same artist. Saint Sol was the artist’s stage name, a well-known musician. He was a staple of R&B, shooting to the top of the charts when he was only in his twenties. Now, he was a well-established musician and producer, having his own label and everything. Saint Sol was practically the epitome of being a self-made man, and the idea of him achieving so much fame and fortune at such a young age made you feel a bit jealous. Of course, it was hard for someone not to be a fan of him. He was charming and suave, confident and flirtatious, and good-looking to boot. There were plenty of tabloid stories of him being a generous lover, often having several people over at once to spend the night with the Saint. Men, women, he didn’t care.
You quickly pulled out your phone and searched for him, wondering where he was now. Otherwise known as Isaiah, he was in his late 30s now, and it seemed like, aside from releasing a few albums here and there, the musician was practically coasting through life. It was practically everything you could have hoped and wanted for in your own life. Your fingers brushed over the old record cover, clearly out of place among the newer and more recent albums of his. In fact, it had an almost iridescent sheen to the record as you pulled it out to stare at it. Whoever had this before must have really beaten it up, given the bumps and grooves you felt on the backside. But at least it would make the shop owner give it to you for a reduced price, and a few moments later, you were the proud owner of your own Saint Sol record.
Bringing your newly acquired possession back home, you quickly pulled off the sleeve and placed the disk onto your record player. The only other plan you had for the rest of the day was to clean up your apartment, so some background music would definitely help get you in the mood. The smooth, sultry voice of the singer began to crackle through as you moved around the space. It was impressive just how clear his tone came through from such an old disc, to the point where you found yourself standing still for a few moments as you lost yourself in the music. Isaiah had such a sweet, melodious voice, interlaced with a deep, bone-shaking bass; it felt like you were being swayed by the songs of a siren.
You barely noticed your eyes starting to flutter shut as the disc hit a particularly scratchy track. This one still had Saint Sol’s voice floating through, but it sounded like there was something else underneath the music layer. It was like some gravely, raggedy chanting, barely noticeable. Perhaps it was just a trick on your ear, given how worn the record was. You didn’t even have time to react before you felt yourself starting to float away. Levitate, more precisely, as your perspective started to rise up in the air. Your eyes widened in surprise, and your limbs shot out in an attempt to ground yourself. But your arms and legs passed through the solid objects like nothing, and you could see yourself still standing in your apartment underneath you. With such an uncanny perspective, you glanced down at yourself to see a translucent, glowing form of yourself in place of your physical body. You couldn’t even cry or scream for help, as your incorporeal arm felt around your face for a mouth. The out-of-body experience was quickly cut short as your soul was whisked away at high speed. It felt like one of those cinematic space warps, with light, sound, and space whizzing by you in some spiritual tunnel.
The frenzied travel ended as quickly as it began, with you hovering in the air above someone else’s body. From what you could see, there were plenty of people strewn about in the room, but there was only one whose eyes you had locked onto. Underneath you, resting peacefully in his bed, was Isaiah. The man you had been fantasizing about, not just a few moments ago. It was strange to see him like this, all peaceful as he slumbered on. There was no world in which you would have ever gotten to be this close to him, let alone in the privacy of his bedroom. But here, floating over him like this, you could practically reach out and touch him without anyone knowing. Curiosity got the better of you, and you decided to enjoy the strange experience. Without a clear explanation as to what was going on, you figured this was the one-in-a-lifetime chance for you to meet the man who seemed to be living all of your dreams.
As your hand reached down to shake Isaiah’s cannonball-sized shoulders, a pulling force seemed to drive your body forward. Your eyes widened in surprise as your spiritual hand was sucked inside the musician’s body. And before you could even brace yourself for impact, the rest of your body began to tumble forward. The last thing you caught a glimpse of was your face landing right into Isaiah’s handsome mug, and everything went black.
It took a few moments for you to gather your bearings, only dwelling in the darkness. This all seemed like such a strange dream, something that you were bound to wake up from. Forcing yourself to open your eyes, you blinked blearily as a wave of exhaustion seemed to settle onto you. There was just the sight of a rather lavish chandelier and bedroom ceiling above you. Flexing your hand carefully, you could feel the smooth texture of silk sheets and a plush pillow behind you. The feeling of something tangible and textured made you push yourself up a bit higher. And then things seemed to click into place for you all at once.
You only had a few moments of staring down at it before, but from your new field of view, there were a pair of heavy-set, muscled pecs staring back at you when you looked down. It almost covered the view of your clearly defined abs, with the last few muscles peeking out between the valley formed by your chest. You could see some aged tattoos on your dark skin, with fresher ones trailing along your arms and hands. A soft noise of surprise slipped from your lips as you naturally brought up your right arm to flex. The peaks of muscles that popped up when you showed off your bicep were intoxicating, to the point where it almost felt like second nature for you. The new position of your arm also offered up a fresh waft of your musk underneath your pits. It was ripe, but smelled more of testosterone and manliness than anything else. That, mixed with some cologne dotting your chest, caused your body to twitch in mild arousal at your scent. You brought one of your meaty hands up to rub and trace at your face, getting a feel of a chiseled jawline and a neatly trimmed beard. It didn’t take much to figure out what had happened, and you didn’t need a mirror to realize whose body you were inhabiting.
Before you had the chance to jump up in surprise or panic at the idea of inhabiting the famous artist’s life, you watched as two bodies began to stir next to you. By your sides were two rather beautiful and stunning women, each equally naked and staring back at you with lust in their eyes. “Morning, handsome… Waking up early without us already?” they purred as they began to pepper your neck with teasing kisses. Their manicured hands roamed over your muscles, exploring every inch of your new body for you. The feeling of their nails brushing over your pert nipples caused you to groan ever so softly. There was that thick, rich, velvety tone that everyone had grown to love.
Your moments of enjoyment with the duo were quickly interrupted by the stirring of someone underneath the cover. A third head carefully peeked up at you, a small and slim body positioned comfortably between your broad, beefy thighs. This time, it was a foxy-looking twink, whose eyes never left yours as his head dipped down to press his nose up against your cock and balls. There was a deep inhalation, and as far as you could tell, the other man’s rolled-back eyes clearly indicated just how much he loved your scent. His slender fingers began to tease and work at your cock, and you could only marvel at the size of your new package even when soft. There was nothing small about Saint Sol, it seemed, and you were getting the full experience firsthand. You shuddered as one of the busty babes began to kiss you, letting her tongue slip inside of your mouth as the other guided your hands onto her breasts. In the meantime, the young man was licking and teasing along your leaking cock slit, swiping up any stray droplets that started to spill from your hardening cock.
The sensual and erotic moment was interrupted by a soft knock at the bedroom door, although none of your partners seemed too bothered to stop what they were doing. The door opened to reveal a rather beefy, hulking man, who seemed to be just as broad-shouldered as Isaiah. He smirked at the sight of you sprawled out and naked on the bed, only pulling out his phone to tap away on it.
“Seems like you’re still having some fun from last night. I take it you’ll want me to push back the meeting for the afternoon then?” he mused as he didn’t glance up from his screen just yet. Unsure what was happening still, you could only offer up a soft grunt in agreement and approval as one of the ladies let her tongue suckle on one of your hardening areolas.
“You’re lucky you’ve got me as your assistant, dude. Going from your personal trainer to bodyguard and now the one who manages your whole life? I’m expecting a big raise this year,” the large man said with a laugh as he slipped his phone away. His eyes lingered on the stiffening mast between your thick thighs, with the small twink struggling to slip it inside his mouth. His slobbering efforts left growing trails of saliva trailing down your veiny shaft. It was a beautiful view, with your slicked-up, big black cock waving in the air like a mast. It was clear that your assistant was enjoying the view as well, with the growing bulge in his slacks showing just how aroused he was.
“...But I’ll settle for a little morning fun for now,” he mused as he began to strip out of his clothes, his eyes landing on yours with each button being picked apart from his dress shirt. “...Perhaps we can push everything out tomorrow. I don’t remember getting the invitation to join last night,” he chuckled as the naked man began to climb into bed with the rest of you.
The last thing you could remember before losing yourself in the orgasmic bliss of your companions was how much things were starting to look up for you. There didn’t seem to be any problems of being stuck in a rut anytime soon, at least.