magic Repost Of The Mirror-Chpter 5

[msclundylvr]

The Mirror

 

Chapter 5

 

By Msclundylvr

 

 

 

A few minutes after my first explosive orgasm in my newly refined body, I begin to recover from the onslaught of pleasure and begin caressing my torso, all the while marveling at the copious amount of cum slathered all over my slightly hairy chest.  It begins to dry, so I decide to head to the shower, grabbing a package of briefs I had purchased recently.  I had grabbed a package that was two sizes too small by mistake, but they might just work now.

 

As I am drying off, I hear a knock at the door.  I assume it is Josh, the college kid next door.  He’s a music major from a conservative, religious family who had just come out of the closet a few months ago.  Being a gay professional musician from a similar background, I had become a sort of mentor to him.  Besides, he was a talented pianist, could partake in intelligent conversation, and was generally a delight to have around.  He was about 5’10” tall but skinny as a rail.  At the age of 21, he is still plagued with acne problems.  It is too bad because anybody could tell that under that red, irritated skin was a real cutie with a heart of gold.

 

Since Josh has basically become my adopted little brother, we have become rather comfortable with one another, just like family.  I grab the briefs off the counter, put them on, marvel for two seconds at how well they fit, and rush to answer the door.  I look through the peephole and see Josh’s spiky blond hair.  I turn the deadbolt, grab the doorknob and pull the door open standing so I am hidden from the hallway.  Mrs. Miller is the prudish old wench across the hall who disapproves of any displays of sexuality and wishes everyone would just dress like a puritan, covered from the chin down.  Rather than risk a lecture, I play it safe and stay covered by the door.

 

Josh comes into my apartment in a melodramatic huff.  This scene is all too familiar.  He went out to the bars last night and felt invisible the whole time because gay culture puts so much emphasis on athleticism and beauty.  Since he doesn’t fit into the poster boy mold, he feels like the ugly duckling.  

 

He is actually kind of cute when he gets himself worked up like this, so I simply close the door, lean against it, and cross my arms and legs while he gets it all out.  I have learned that it really is much easier to let him get it all out up front.

 

Finally, he ends his five-minute tirade with “How am I ever going to find my future husband if I can’t even get a guy to look at me?”  He spins around and looks at me quizzically.  “Uhh…hi.  I’m looking for David.  Who are you?”

 

Forgetting what had happened, I reply, “Did you do drugs last night while you were at this club?  If you did, we’re going to have to have a serious talk about this.  It’s me.  The same old David you’ve known for the last two years.”

 

“No.  The David I know is not a muscle-bound hunk who flaunts his rather enormous package in skimpy briefs.  Though, apparently he has a lot more luck with the guys than I do!  Maybe I should go, let you two get back to whatever you were doing, and ask him about his pickup technique later!”

 

“Josh, what are you talking…”? Just then I remembered that I was not the same old me.  “Uh, Josh--hold on, I’ll be right back.”

 

Josh settled down on my cough and began thumbing through my latest copy of The Advocate while I went into my bedroom.

 

“Oh shit,” I thought while I looked in the mirror.  “How am I going to explain this?”  I had seen his eyes bugging out while checking out my new body.  He’ll never believe me.  I especially can’t have this conversation while exposed.  I search through my drawers for a t-shirt and some jeans.  All of my t-shirts are tight on my arms and chest but hang straight down from my chest, covering the taper of my torso. I flex a little in the mirror seeing how much I can flex without ripping the seams.  I grab my favorite pair of jeans.  I look in the mirror as I pull them up and ponder what a shame it is to cover up my newly enhanced dick.  However, this 21-year-old horndog would never be able to concentrate on the conversation with a 7-inch soft penis to look at.  

 

As I button my jeans, I pull them out to see that they are about six inches too big on my waist.  I grab a belt to cinch them down, but though the belt makes them a couple of inches smaller, they still run the risk of slipping down and showing off my newest and finest assets.  That’s when I remember a pair of jeans my friend Sam had left behind when he visited a couple of months ago.  He is a good friend of mine from college who is a notorious, but loveable slob.  Sam is absolutely gorgeous.  He has model good looks and looks amazing in anything he puts on from a t-shirt and jeans to a tux.  Though my insecurities made me feel undesirable next to him, he only treated me with kindness and friendship.  If only he weren’t hopelessly straight…  

 

When he realized he’d left them, Sam called and told me to hang onto these jeans because he might need them next time he was in town.  I dug to the back of my closet where I’d stashed them.  I looked in the mirror as I pulled them up; they fit my new thighs and ass like a glove.  The cut of the jeans only accented my new package even further.  I was definitely going to need to sit down for this conversation if there was any hope that Josh would be able to concentrate—oh crap, Josh.  I need to get back out there and stop staring into this mirror.

 

As I opened the bedroom door, I heard Josh whistle and say, “Man, David is a great guy, and I certainly owe him a lot for putting up with me the past couple of years.  However, I never thought he’d be able to get a hottie like you.”

 

“Josh, about that…you won’t believe this, but I am David.”

 

“Oh, that’s just like him—finding another guy named David,” Josh chortled.  

 

“No, I’m David.  Your neighbor...  The first person you came out to.  I’m the guy who drove you to your parents’ house and sat next to you as you came out to them.  I’m the guy who held you most of the night while you cried over the guy who took your virginity only to get back at his cheating boyfriend.  I’m the guy who just last week helped you come up with those fingerings for that Schubert piece you’re working on.  I—uhh—have just had an upgrade.”

 

“No fucking way.  How the hell did you know all of that stuff?  Why did David tell you all of that about me?  How did you know about those fingerings?  Where is David?  What have you done with him?  You KILLED him, didn’t you?”

 

I grabbed Josh by the cheeks, stifling a laugh, and said, “JOSH!  Just shut up for a second!  Look at my eyes.  It’s me!”

 

He looked and recognized the blue-green color of my eyes and then noticed the mole on my cheek that hadn’t moved.  He still looked a little skeptical, so I took him to the piano and played the section of that Schubert piece with the fingerings we had worked out.  Then he believed what I was saying.

 

“How?  How is this possible?  I mean you have the same eyes, the same musical talent, the same personality, but now you this incredible body too!”

 

With both of us sitting on the bench in front of my upright piano, I told Josh the story of finding the mirror in the attic and having just discovered its powers.  During the silences in our conversation, Josh would play until his thoughts were clear enough to ask a new question.  Though I couldn’t answer many of his questions because I’d only had the mirror for a few hours, I could some inner turmoil coming through as he played.

 

Finally, he stopped playing, turned to me and said, “I want to try it.”

 

[oakn]

Gosh I'd like to own that mirror!