Without fail

Without fail, all the rich octogenarians began acting like raucous young women in their new bodies.
“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” The women on the outside of the circle chanted as they watched the two in the middle touching each other.
When they finally did kiss there was a loud cheer that the women in the octogenarians’ bodies could hear at the far end of the ship.
It was a biannual event involving the richest (and usually oldest) men in the world swapping into the bodies of any young woman they could bring with them. Usually the volunteers were poor and desperate, willing to give up their bodies temporarily for more money than they would make in several lifetimes. The swap took place on a luxury yacht in the middle of the ocean. The new women spent the weekend naked and touching each other, wringing every ounce of pleasure from their nubile bodies. The new men spent the weekend wheezing and being escorted from place to place, their frail, tentative steps in direct contrast to the liveliness of their original bodies.
The volunteer young women made a ton of money and all they had to do was relinquish their bodies for a weekend. Just ignore seeing themselves go down on total strangers, running around naked, having various fingers and tongues stuck into their orifices.
Yes, one of the older male bodies died sometimes, leaving the original occupant in a fresh-faced youthful body, but that was a chance they took.

My newest collection is now available on Body Swap Stories, Smashwords, and Amazon.


  1. I count 9 people.
    8 more women that what I need for a lifetime.

    The battle between rich and poor is harmful to the middle class.
    Why can’t people learn how to love ?

    1. True. I’ve been kicking around with this idea as a longer story which is basically an allegory about the toxicity of the super rich.

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