The Prince and the Rock Star - Rated E
“Maybe you should sleep,” Stede whispered to himself. He cleared his throat, which suddenly felt a bit constricted. “You’re seeing things.”
The last three words felt strange. The pitch of his voice was deeper and warmer, far less nasal than it should have been. Stede stared at his arms as rivulets of ink trickled down and formed into tattooed images on his arms. Strange pulling sensations tugged at his body, like a dozen tiny hands were pulling backward on his shirt. He tilted his head back and when he leaned forward, long strands of silver and gray flopped into view. Every muscle in his body tensed at once, then surged as bulk deposited itself differently, transforming solid but soft into long and lean.
***
Ed is a rock star. Stede is a socialite with a career in the recording industry.
One night, a mysterious stranger, sensing the envy between them, offers a solution. The two trade lives willingly. Being in each others' skin unearths deep attraction they'd been denying.
The Prince and the Pauper, but make it a smutty gay bodyswap.
The grass is always greener, so the old saying goes. No matter how many stories get told about that statement's truth, some still covet what others have.
Two of those people are Edward Teach and Stede Bonnet, friends who envied things about each other.
Stede Bonnet, the titular prince, is not a literal one in the sense that he’s royalty. But he comes from old money. Although he was a concert promoter, his family owns the company, along with a record label and a dozen radio stations. He didn’t have to fight for his job. He just had to ask for it.
In contrast, Edward Teach has been working since he was 14. That was when he released his first single, a pop song that sent him around malls signing albums and earned him the cover of Tiger Beat magazine six times before he was twenty. He successfully took back his career in his thirties, and after that point, his life was one success after another. His home recording studio is lined with gold records and Grammys. His concerts regularly sold out, sometimes within hours. But Edward was trapped by his image, of a bad boy who churns out radio and family-friendly hits - edge with a pop hook.
Stede envied Ed’s self-made success. As a young man, he dreamed of the stage, but that was one ambition where his family wouldn’t support him. He got into the music industry instead and spent decades helping others realize their dreams. Except for among the jetsetting elite, Stede was anonymous. His rise-by-nepotism meant he had very little respect within the industry, even though he promoted blockbuster concerts and helped a half dozen young artists find their feet in an industry that wanted to eat them alive.
The two men met many years before when Ed’s career was on a downward spiral after he shed his teeny-bopper image but before he’d reinvented himself. Stede helped him through that transition, and the two formed a tight friendship based on mutual respect.
It might have been more if Stede hadn’t been married and Ed hadn’t been entangled in various…situationships. Plus, Ed’s touring and recording schedule meant they only saw each other in person once every couple of months.
On one of those meetings, the two got drunk in a small, semi-private underground club frequented by industry types called Revenge. They got to talking about what they envied about each others’ lives.
Someone with a way for them to see for themselves whether the grass was indeed greener in the fields of the other man’s life.
Whether it was booze, the intense envy they felt for one another, or the secure knowledge that what they were being offered couldn’t possibly be real, Ed and Stede agreed to the purchase of a pair of lamps. Not genie lamps, but bedside ones, small, nondescript and decorative, of the style and kind that wouldn’t look out of place anywhere.
The stranger, whose appearance Ed and Stede would come to disagree on, told them to go to sleep with the light on beside their bed. In doing so, they’d get a chance to cross the proverbial fence and inhabit each others’ lives.
“Did…did we just get swindled?” asked Stede as he paid their tab and realized he’d given the stranger every bit of cash on him.
“Probably,” said Ed as he shrugged on his leather jacket. “Almost definitely. But at least we’ll have a good story to tell.”
As it turned out, Ed’s words were more prophecy than he could have ever imagined.
The two men bid each other farewell with joking comments about whether to actually use the lamps or not. They lingered close and stared at each other in the way people were otherwise entangled really shouldn’t be. But then they went their separate ways - Stede back to his life of anonymity and comfort, and Ed to his life of fame and accolades, each musing over the what-if of the lamps.
The possibility of their odd trinkets drove both men to plug in the lamps by their bedside once they were home.
Stede managed to plug his in without issue, as his downtown pied-a-terre away from his wife and kids was stylish, uncluttered and immaculately kept.
Ed, on the other hand, had to shove over guitar cases and piles of clothes, and drunkenly dig behind a rat’s nest of cables to find a place to plug his in.
When plugged in, the small, modern-looking bedside lamps took on a decidedly more ethereal quality. The black shades lit up with previously invisible patterns that looked like glyphs of some kind. The light itself was neither yellow nor white, but brilliant gold in a way that didn’t quite seem possible. Being in its light was oddly soothing and relaxing.
Ed found himself lying prone on his bed with heavy lids and loose muscles. He fell asleep quickly and deeply.
Stede on the other hand, felt almost as anxious as he was curious. He fought against the fatigue the lamp’s golden glow cast on him. He propped himself upright and stared at the patterns.
As a consequence, Stede was awake to see the lamp shift and the patterns change - the strange curvy glyphs twisting like they were coming into alignment. The character of his room began to shift as well, as brightly-painted walls shifted to darker colours, and piles of clothes, dishes, and instruments phased in and out of existence.
“Maybe you should sleep,” Stede whispered to himself. He cleared his throat, which suddenly felt a bit constricted. “You’re seeing things.”
The last three words felt strange. The pitch of his voice was deeper and warmer, far less nasal than it should have been. Stede stared at his arms as rivulets of ink trickled down and formed into tattooed images on his arms. Strange pulling sensations tugged at his body, like a dozen tiny hands were pulling backward on his shirt. He tilted his head back and when he leaned forward, long strands of silver and gray flopped into view. Every muscle in his body tensed at once, then surged as bulk deposited itself differently, transforming solid but soft into long and lean.
Stede felt a sharp pinch in his tongue and he exhaled a note of surprise. He shifted his tongue in his mouth and felt something rattle against his teeth. When he stuck his fingers in to explore the odd sensation, he discovered the metal bar of a tongue piercing.
Just when panic and realization of what was happening set in, Stede lost the battle to the lamp’s sedative effects. He fell backward and what felt like through the mattress, before finally drifting down into deep sleep.
As he slept, Stede had the strangest dreams where his body kept shifting and changing, undulating between his own and someone else’s. He felt the hot lights of the stage and the roar of the crowd, the ache of fingers raw from weeks of intense guitar playing, the dull ring of tinnitus and a raw, satisfying feeling in his chest and throat.
He felt the yielding warmth of another man inside him as he rocked and felt waves of foreign pleasure trickle up from between his thighs. A bearded face slid his tongue along his neck, then kissed him hot on the mouth. For the first time in his life (though he’d dreamed of it) he knew what it was like to be desired and taken by another man.
Stede could have lived in those dreams, those echoes of another life for hours more. But the shrill electronic pulse shoved him steadily out of the dream world. He woke in a daze, face down on gray sheets in a nearly pitch-black room. His mouth felt dry and foul, and his head pulsed.
You’re hung over, you idiot. You and Ed drank too much.
The shrill noise pulsed again, digging a dagger into his aching head.
“Aw, fuck!” said Stede, in a voice that was decidedly not his own. The hand to his head confirmed it. Instead of a short mass of thick blond hair, he felt a tangled mess of slightly coarse, very long gray and black.
The rest of the room slowly came into focus. He was in a penthouse suite, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the early morning sun spilling out across the skyscrapers. The tinting in the windows adjusted according to the amount of light, which meant it was still rather dark in the room.
Stede knew, logically, what had happened, but he couldn’t quite process and put it all together. It was all too bizarre, too unbelievable. The night before was fuzzy and indistinct, and his dreams…
…his dreams had been so vivid and real. He could almost taste them. And the longer he was awake, the more he craved them.
The shrill noise, which had stopped for a time, started up again. Stede fumbled around until he found the source. Ed’s phone was still in the pocket of his leather jacket, which he’d dumped unceremoniously on the floor.
Before Stede could worry about the phone’s passcode, the front-facing camera unlocked as soon as it saw his face, bringing him to a cluttered mess of icons on top of a stylized skull wallpaper. The notifications were full, but the bar across the top was the most urgent, and the most strange.
Stede hit the button to receive the call.
“Oh thank fuck. I was about to have a heart attack,” came Stede’s voice, but not out of Stede’s mouth. The camera whipped around, only showing glimpses of the caller. “Stay where you are. I’m on the way over.”
“To your place. Mine. Whatever. Where you are.”
The camera stabilized and Stede found himself staring at his own grinning, excited, slightly disheveled face.
“Isn’t this fucking brilliant? It actually worked!”
Ed felt incredible. Well, no, actually, he felt hung over and stiff and he was pretty sure he was getting a caffeine headache. But other than that, he felt better than he’d had in years.
Maybe it was because he hadn’t fought the lamp’s sedative effect, but he’d had a far gentler morning than Stede. He woke up feeling well-rested in a bed that felt like a marshmallow, in clean-smelling Egyptian cotton in an immaculately decorated townhouse.
He’d had dreams as well. Ed had never been interested in women, but nothing about the memories of having sex with them repulsed him. There were other images though - less vivid, but still present that he sorted out were fantasies of being with men coupled with intense masturbation. He’d always suspected Stede was bi, and something told him those dreams were confirming it.
Ed had seen a lot of strange things in his life - things he couldn’t explain, things that felt just out of view. Some part of him knew the stranger who sold them the lamps hadn’t been lying, so that part of him immediately believed it when he saw Stede Bonnet’s shocked face staring back at him from the floor-length mirror in a generously appointed walk-in closet.
He’d fantasized about this exact thing, when he was tired of the crowds and his agent and all the weight of expectations. Ed had imagined himself in Stede’s life, with money enough to never work a day in his life, yet without the baggage of fame. Once, Stede had left a change of clothes at Ed’s place after a weekend conference. In a moment of weakness, Ed put on the slim-fit trousers and colourful button-up, still smelling of expensive and understated cologne and imagined seeing Stede in the mirror instead of himself.
If Ed thought about it for more than a few seconds, he’d realize that he’d done the thing that gay men sometimes do where he’d confused attraction for envy. He’d experienced it the other way around, but Stede was so far from his usual type that it didn’t quite register.
Ed absolutely did not have to wear a suit for this particular meeting, but the navy blue lightweight suit with red detailing and pale yellow button-up with a subtle filigree pattern was so stylish and so unlike anything he’d ever wear himself that he couldn’t help himself. He felt handsome - so handsome in fact, that he spent a little time giving himself a photoshoot. It took several photos before he’d started to find out the best angles for his new face.
In between all of that, he’d tried to get ahold of the real Stede. When he finally did answer, he was already on the way out the door.
As he zipped through the rush hour traffic behind the wheel of Stede’s bright yellow Audi convertible, Ed felt more powerful than he did even when he had an entire stadium in the palm of his hand.
As he approached his own building, Stede’s body settled around Ed like a comfortable pair of sweats after a lifetime in constricting jeans. The wind moved through his thick blond hair and he watched the world through a pair of tinted aviators.
The thought of Stede sitting in his bedroom, in his body, waiting for him to arrive made Ed shift as he was stopped at a light. He cleared his throat and mumbled to himself, “Easy, big boy.”
And Ed was currently, much to his utter delight, quite big. As himself, he was no slouch, and he thought his dick was quite attractive, actually. But the girth and length of Stede’s cock the first time he pulled down his pants had been a pleasant surprise. A moment of shame and impropriety saw him stuffing himself away moments later, but he remained very aware of the added bulk.
The perfectly tailored, quite tight trousers and the rumble of the sportscar engine beneath his seat certainly kept that particular fact top of mind.
Eventually, he made it through rush hour traffic and parked Stede’s impressive sportscar in a visitor spot. Out of habit, he tried to head straight for the elevator, but the doorman stopped him. After a quick exchange with his doppelganger, Ed was finally allowed into the elevator that took him on an express trip to the penthouse suite.
As he ascended, Ed was treated to a 360-degree mirrored view of his new body. He tucked the arm of the sunglasses in the front of his shirt, then tugged on his jacket and gave himself a once-over. The suit was designed to give him the most flattering figure possible, with a nipped-in waist and clean lines. It felt very comfortable, but a bit tight across the biceps. He’d remembered Stede mentioning he’d been working on his upper body, so new, tight muscle across his arms and shoulders was probably responsible for that.
“God, you’re fucking hot,” Ed whispered to his reflection. Stede’s nasal tone and Stede’s voice gave sound to Ed’s thoughts. As he stared at his new reflection, a thought pushed forward in his mind.
I’m fucking hot. I’m Stede.
The thought made Ed’s tight trousers just that much tighter, just as the elevator door opened. He stepped into his own penthouse, which was still mostly dark. “Hello?”
A tingle of worry started to set in. What if Stede was freaking out? What if the switch had somehow gone wrong for him?
What if…he wanted to switch back immediately?
Ed definitely didn’t want to do that. Not for a while, at least.
“Oh thank god! There you are!”
Ed had adjusted quickly to being in Stede’s body, but he wasn’t quite prepared to see someone else in his.
Stede was wrapped up in his black bathrobe. He was wet from his shower and his hair was an absolute tangled mess. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t stand the smell of myself and I tried to wash my hair…your hair…this hair,” he motioned to his head. “But I have no idea how to handle long hair and I think I’ve just made it worse.”
Stede was panicking a little, but it was more about the absolute state of his hair than the situation - or at least it seemed that way to Ed. His eyes were wide and puppyish, and his cheeks were slightly flushed. The hair was a messy, tangled halo around his head and he’d only managed to comb out one small section.
He looked…absolutely adorable. Ed knew that he could use his big, dark eyes to devastating effect, but he’d never been at the receiving end of a look quite that pleading.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Ed mumbled. “I went right to the bar from a recording session yesterday and was sweating my ass off. The smell kind of creeps up on you.”
“Especially if you fall asleep in your clothes.”
“Especially if you do that,” Ed agreed.
“Can you help me?” Stede shifted closer. He was still clutching the front of the robe closed.
As he moved in, Ed could smell his bodywash and shampoo on Stede’s still-damp skin. It smelled familiar, but something about it drawn through Stede’s nose tingled his brain in a very pleasant way. He opened his mouth a little to better bring in the scent. “Of course. Don’t worry. You’re not going to have to get a buzz cut.”
Stede exhaled a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. I em, figured out the coffeemaker. Do you want one?”
Ed crossed to the bathroom where he knew there were various hairbrushes and most importantly, a leave-in conditioner. “Fuck, yes,” he said.
When he returned with what he needed, Stede was seated at the kitchen table, his hands around a cup of coffee. There was another in a red mug sitting nearby.
Ed picked it up. His first thought was that it wasn’t the right colour. It was far too dark. But, he sipped it. The strong, barely-sweetened coffee flowed over his tongue and the pleasant bitterness filled his mouth. Muscles in his face he didn’t even realize were tense released at the first hit of caffeine. “Ahhh,” he murmured.
“Ah, so I was right,” said Stede in a chipper tone. “I tried making it that way for myself at first, but it was way too dark and bitter.” He pulled a face.
“That means you’re drinking a…single shot extra large latte with a shot of vanilla syrup?”
Stede’s eyes lit up. “No! Just a lot of sugar. I’ll try the syrup next time. For you, you’ve got a strong Americano with a tiny splash of milk and no sugar.”
Ed looked into the dark, bitter liquid and took another testing sip. It really did taste delicious. He found the thought of his usual sweet and milky coffee to be utterly distasteful - so distasteful in fact that he took several more swallows of his coffee to banish the sense memory. “Guess it makes sense. I’ve got your tongue in my mouth, after all.”
“And I’ve got yours,” said Stede as he pursed his lips and cornered a look away. “Piercing and all. I don’t know why I never noticed it before.”
Ed grinned wryly. “I had one when I was younger. A couple months back, I decided to get it again. You’re lucky it’s fully healed.”
Stede rolled his tongue around his mouth, stuck it out, and rubbed the metal stud before he let it go so he could speak. “It feels kind of nice.”
Ed was suddenly taken with the image of how the stud would feel sliding down the cock that was currently between his legs. He felt a twitch and shifted. He suddenly regretted choosing such tight pants, though the constriction itself was not altogether unpleasant.
“Let’s get your hair sorted. Here, you want to use this,” Ed showed the bottle to Stede, “...after you shower. It’ll take out the tangles and help set the curls and control the frizziness.”
“Your hair takes a whole manual as well. If you didn’t shower, you’re benefitting from yesterday’s product,” said Ed with a little grin as he wrapped both hands around the mug and sipped daintily. It was a strange thing to see himself doing as the body language was definitely not his.
“I noticed that. All I had to do was spritz it a bit and work a few of the pieces back into place. It’s so fucking thick,” Ed touched the side of his head, then spritzed the spray on the worst of the tangles and gently worked it in.
“You’ll figure it out. We can help each other,” said Stede. “I’m sure hair will be the least complicated thing we’ve got to deal with.”
Ed paused as he picked up a strand of Stede’s hair. “I thought maybe you’d want to try and switch back right away,” he said as casually as he could.
“Do you want to?” Stede asked softly.
“I mean, seems like a once-in-a-lifetime thing. And we did ask for it,” said Ed, still trying his best to feign nonchalance.
“Good!” he chirped. “I mean…” he played with a strand of his hair. “I’m…I’m you. I’m Edward fucking Teach. I’m a rock legend.”
That was the first time Stede had sounded even a little bit like the real thing. He’d even managed to add a growl to his voice. Though it quivered with nearly giddy excitement at the end.
“Once the shock wore off, I couldn’t believe it. I’m you. And…you’re me. It’s…bloody brilliant.” He smiled broadly at Ed. “I’m just sorry you’re stuck as boring old me.”
“Not so boring,” said Ed. “Your wardrobe’s fucking amazing. And you’re rich. It’ll be nice to be rich and still be able to walk down the street.”
“So…” Stede shifted around in his seat. “We’re not going to try the lamps again? At least, not right away?”
“It might only work once, then we’ve lost our chance. And that’d be a shame.”
“It would,” Stede agreed as he examined his hands and touched the side of his cheek, sliding fingers along his short beard. “You know, I’ve never managed to grow a beard. Not a proper one like yours.”
“It’s yours,” Ed found himself saying. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Stede’s ear. For a moment, he was lost in his own eyes, which were so wide and full of wonder with Stede behind them. “Your beard. Your body. Your life. At least for now.”
Stede bit the edge of his lip again. “I suppose it is.”
Something about that expression was incredibly attractive. Ed shifted in his too-tight trousers again. He cleared his throat. “Well, that’s settled then. First on the agenda? Haircare 101.”
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