Bhuddist Do-over
Copyright© 2026 by Duncan Mickloud
Chapter 34: Business Booms
Time Travel Sex Story: Chapter 34: Business Booms - A novel-length do-over about a man born in 1955: he lived until 2038. A retired Buddhist monk befriended Mason and caused strange things to happen. Mace died normally, only to wake up at age 13 with all of his old memories. But he's not living his life over. Everything is really different. He's on a parallel planet with a completely different history and bizarre morals. It is the polar opposite of feminism. Succinctly stated: it's a fun romp. 33 chapters. Slow start.
Caution: This Time Travel Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Ma/ft mt/Fa Coercion Consensual Rags To Riches Restart DoOver Time Travel Incest Mother Son Brother Sister Anal Sex Analingus First Massage Masturbation Oral Sex Petting Pregnancy Safe Sex Voyeurism Hairy Size Small Breasts
Old Doc. Townsend hadn’t told me he wasn’t 40-ish, as I had assumed. He was actually over 110 when we’d first met. Longevity in mages is normal.
I was a pallbearer at Doc’s funeral. He had a stroke at 127 years old. I was 26 then.
The coffin was open, and I swear he didn’t look a day older than 60, a well-preserved, handsome 60.
Mom and Dad had broken up, so Mom moved in with Marcy and me in St. Augustine. She brought Bella, my stepsister, and Mom’s two young girls. They are named Libby and Alicia Carpenter, of course.
Mom and Dad still loved each other, but Dad now enjoys two young concubines now. The truth is Mom and Dad had slowly grown apart. They had been together a long time.
I changed Mom’s facial features so she looks really hot again. Much like she did when she was 18.
Of course Marcy wanted babies. I gave her a boy, and we held off on having a girl for a few more years. She named our son Jonathon. She calls him Jon-Jon.
I sleep in St. Augustine most of the time now and work only 4 days a week. My Cessna gets me around very well. I bought a nice two-masted yacht. A live-aboard couple keeps it in shape for us. They take us out on weekends. Usually it’s just Marcy, Mom, our kids, and me. The sailboat’s tied up at the yacht club two blocks from my house.
After a few years with the Cessna, my female pilot, Barbara Jenson, had talked me into trading up to a Learjet 24B. I bought one brand new. Why mess around?
Barbara had to go off to school for a couple of weeks. She’s very gay, which allows us to maintain a professional relationship. She’s the only woman who doesn’t want me for anything else. I can relax around her, and it’s all strictly business between us.
The Learjet has a 1,500-mile range and is more than twice as fast as the Cessna. After my time in the Navy during my previous incarnation, I was 100% sold on GE jet engines. This plane was pure luxury.
As a family, we also started taking two-week long vacations in the spring and fall. Usually our family went to the Caribbean. Mom, Marcy, and I liked vacationing in the Bahamas and on St. Thomas. My
new plane had the long legs and could island-hop anywhere in the Caribbean. We liked the casino in Nassau, Bahamas. We also liked shopping in St. Thomas and staying at the Weston or Bluebeard’s Castle.
At age 27, I fell in love with Cuba Libre cocktails all over again in St. Thomas; they don’t call them that here on Earth 2. It’s just called a rum and coke cocktail here. They vary it with different rums and use either lime or lemon.
For some reason, Coca-Cola wasn’t a thing in our America. Still, it was popular down here in St. Thomas, and all over the Caribbean. A little sweet dark rum and a slice of lime make for an outstanding cocktail with Coke. I think food purists in America shut down the Coca-Cola drink early on in RONA.
I rediscovered another favorite drink from my previous incarnation; I had it whenever I visited the Bahamas. My other favorite drink was half Rye and half 12-year-old bourbon, on the rocks, of course. That was my once-in-a-while sipping drink, and the Cuba Libre was for party times.
The half Rye, half bourbon is called The Classic Whiskey Highball. The key word is “The.” It’s what lets the barkeep know exactly what you want.
Mom and Marcy had become addicted to the Bahama Mama because it’s so fruity.
I sipped one and thought, ‘Ya, that’s a girlie drink, alright.’ It may taste girlie. But it would knock your socks off.
As time went on, I got richer and richer and started speculating in real estate. I had a big beach house a few miles south of Ponte Vedra, just south of Jax Beach. Sometimes we all moved up to Ponte Vedra; sometimes we stayed down in St. Augustine.
Later I bought a house on the north side of St. Thomas Island where the truly rich live. We spend one or two weeks in that house every spring.
The Feaxist who lived in Tampa had passed away from old age. The college let me know. I think they wanted me to take over her practice.
Her studio was in an upscale downtown Tampa shopping mall, so I took over her lease. I bought a home in downtown St. Petersburg right across the causeway for when I am in town. Sometimes it’s just my pilot and me; sometimes Marcy, Mom, and the kids come along,
I commuted from St. Augustine to St. Pete–Clearwater Airport and to Jupiter to work at each Feaxist practice for two days.
I had already closed the Ponte Vedra place. The previous Feaxist had already done most of the local wealthy people. The Jacksonville area itself was mostly middle- to lower-class people who couldn’t afford my fee.
The Tampa - St. Pete area is rather huge and has a bigger and more diverse population than the Jacksonville area has. Tampa has an area where most residents are Cubans left over from the now defunct cigar-making industry. Nobody smokes anymore.
I do Saturdays and Sundays in Jupiter, where I live with Alannah and family. I spend Mondays and Tuesdays in Tampa - St. Pete. The rest of the week, I live at home. I still get the occasional witch to come by so I can drop an egg for her.
One late evening in Tampa, I drove by what looked like an oriental building. It had soft lighting outside. I slowed and looked. It was some kind of temple. Curious, I parked, went in, and what did I see? A picture of Buddha. I felt dizzy. What is this place doing here?
A monk approached me, and we talked for a long time. My stomach dropped. This suddenly became emotionally draining for me. At first, I was afraid that my sojourn to Earth 2, as I thought of it, was over. Then I realized they were in dire need of money.
I almost passed out. Was I here for a reason? I’m very rich, and they need financial help here. Could it all be so simple?
Do I believe in an afterlife? I Frick-en am IN an afterlife right damn now. I can’t deny it, because I am in an afterlife!
I wrote a $10,000.00 check right then. As soon as I handed it to him, my heart slowed, and I felt better.