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  • Morning Yoga: Having Some Fun with Aria

    Chapter by azn8573 · 26 Dec 2025
  • Our protagonist has slept in late on a Saturday and suddenly finds himself inhabiting the body of Aria, a fit yoga instructor in another town.
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  • The shift came with the scent of eucalyptus and sweat. One moment, I was buried in my own duvet, lost in a lazy Saturday morning haze. The next, I was standing on cool, damp tile, surrounded by the echo of laughter and the rustle of fabric.

    My body was different. Compact, powerful. I looked down and saw strong, tan thighs, a flat stomach etched with muscle, and a sports bra straining over a generous, firm chest. Damp hair, the color of dark honey, clung to my neck. I was in a locker room, steam curling from a nearby shower stall.

    And I was not alone.

    The room was full of them. Young women, mostly in their early twenties, in various states of undress. A brunette was twisting her hair into a messy bun, her back arched, completely topless. Two others were comparing the neon patterns on their leggings, one hopping on one foot to pull them up. The air was thick with the smell of shampoo, deodorant, and the clean, healthy scent of youthful bodies. They teased each other with an easy intimacy, swatting towels, laughing about some guy from a party.

    I just stood there, frozen by the shower entrance, a towel wrapped around my hips. My heart—her heart—was pounding. This wasn't a dream. The chill of the tile under my bare feet, the drip of water from my hair down my spine—it was all viciously real. My gaze, helpless, traveled from one stunning form to another, lingering on the curve of a hip, the sway of a breast, the smooth line of a back. I felt a traitorous heat rise in this new body, a completely different physiological response. My mouth had actually gone a little dry.

    “Aria, you okay? You’re staring at my butt like you’re grading it.”

    The voice snapped me back. A tall, redheaded girl with a constellation of freckles across her shoulders was smirking at me, hands on her hips. She was fully dressed in black leggings and a cropped tank top.

    Aria. Right. I was Aria now. The yoga instructor, according to the logo on the damp towel.

    “Just… appreciating the alignment,” I heard myself say, my voice a smooth, confident alto that carried a hint of a laugh. It was the perfect instructor-y response, and the redhead laughed, turning back to her friend.

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