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Day 16: Magic

Wrong side

By Patrick D. Lambert

Commissioned by ADConayr

The bell announced a new customer. He didn't remember the antique shop being there before, and he had walked down that street multiple times. Maybe it was the discreet front or the lack of a sign outside. The only thing that gave it away was the bunch of trinkets displayed in the window, and even that didn't mean anything without a proper sign. Still, Conayr took the risk and pushed the wooden door, tempted by the mystery emanating from the antiques he saw.

The rusty hinges did a better job announcing his arrival than the little bell above his head. A smell of dust and warm air hit him the moment he walked in. The wooden planks creaked too loud under his paws he feared the ground was about to break, yet nothing happened, and the blackish dragon moved forward. His large wings folded tightly against his back, covering the line of blue fur descending all the way down from his head to the tip of his tail. And while he was used to the size of his body, he still walked carefully, perfectly aware of how "priceless" that junk was--or that's what the shopkeeper would say.

Speaking of which, the red crocodile in charge of the place lowered his round glasses to inspect the newcomer, moving his look away from the old and big book he was reading. What he saw was a completely naked dragon with nothing but a collar around his neck. A bold choice; while not entirely illegal for male reptiles, for obvious reasons, it was still seen as immoral and a bit sexist by some people.

The dragon didn't seem to mind, though, judging by the commodity and confidence seen in his walk. Most of his scales were of a blackish tone, almost like smoke, with only the front part having a blue color that matched the sky from that morning. The horns on top of his head gave him those extra inches to get above 6 feet of height, a respectable number among his kind, but not exactly the tallest one.

The crocodile wrinkled his nose at the peculiar smell coming off him. Innocence. What a lovely fragrance. Closing his book with care and devotion, he directed his attention entirely to the dragon.

"Welcome. I hope you're having an excellent day, mister," the red reptile greeted, making a little reverence with his head.

Conayr found the gesture a bit old-fashioned, but fitting for the store.

"Thank you," the gesture also got a giggle out of him, one he quickly silenced by looking at the items displayed to his right.

There was little to no order in the store. Despite the shelves and bookcases, most of the items had been scattered with no care. It's as if the crocodile, clearly in charge, went around the store putting them as he pleased, with the delicacy of a ballet dancer but the enthusiasm of a teenager working in retail.

Books, dolls, old but cheap-looking jewelry, nothing really obeyed an order. It was pure and plain chaos. Yet it had a certain charm to it, making the search for an item into a real treasure hunt. Conayr found it funny, even exciting. He looked around, curious if there was a particular story behind each item or if he was dealing with simple and cheap trinkets the crocodile brought from his grandfather's house.

"Are you looking for anything in particular?" The crocodile asked, his attention still focused entirely on the dragon. There was no lewdness in his eyes, only the subtle predatory look from a vendor looking to finish his sale.

"Well..."

He paused. Why did he walk into the store in the first place? He had never shown any interest in antiques, and he wasn't looking at one at the moment he passed by. Curiosity wasn't good enough either. He simply walked in, pulled by the unknown threads of destiny, the same that were drawing his attention to a spot in particular, hidden from the rest of the store.

"I... I was just looking," Conayr replied.

His paws moved slowly, dragging dust over the wooden planks as he approached a small Victorian vanity table. The details carved on the wood were particularly beautiful. Almost in perfect shape, the table could very well have belonged to a duchess. However, what really caught his attention was the mirror it had on it, big enough to fit most of his reflection.

"Oh, the vanity table? Yes, someone brought it this morning. A fine piece, don't you think?"

His words didn't reach the dragon. He continued walking forward, captivated by a hypnotic curiosity about the peculiar design. If only he had looked to his right, Conayr would have noticed the fangs showing off on that devious smile the crocodile offered. Perhaps that would have warned him of the impending doom.

Perhaps that would have saved him.

Or maybe the silent, invisible magic of the store had him trapped even before he walked in. A long thread that someone had been pulling slowly, carefully, just to get the dragon inside the store.

He saw his reflection approaching from the other side of the mirror. Like a fated encounter, both dragons walked at the same pace, taking the same precautions, but only one of them was on the wrong side, doing everything in the wrong order. Left was right. Right was left. A bit of attention revealed the awkwardness of those little differences, and suddenly, the simple nature of a mirror made Conayr feel uneasy.

He wasn't getting anywhere close to the mirror. The hallway stretched into infinity, getting farther away from him with each step taken. Until it wasn't. Until he had to force himself to stop before he crashed with the old and delicate wood.

Conayr put a finger over the surface. The smoothness was almost orgasmic. Just a touch was enough to confirm the quality and talent of the male who made love to the wood in front of him. But again, his eyes landed on the mirror mere inches away from him. His reflection leaned his head sideways, mimicking his moves to perfection, as it was supposed to. Yet again, Conayr considered the gesture weird.

What was wrong in that mirror he couldn't tell exactly, nor could he explain his sudden interest in old and fancy furniture, nothing compared to the crude and tasteless things decorating his apartment. But for some reason, it was the only thing in the antique shop that got his attention.

As he kept testing the mirror, the details of his body became blurry. He didn't notice it immediately, not under the absence of light that made it difficult to see past his nose. He just saw a blurry silhouette, until the details came to light once again. Bits of his body came out of the shadowy figure, revealing the same slender aspect, yet a different kind of skin.

Black, covered in short-trimmed fur, the body Conayr saw wasn't his. It had a resemblance that slowly turned into recognition when the details of the shiny Umbreon became more and more notorious. His elegant bearing continued mimicking the dragon while the shadows revealed more details of his body. The blue rings on the arms, forehead, and around the large and straight ears glowed strongly as a greeting. His golden eyes returned a seductive look at him, one that froze the dragon after he noticed the naked body, his cock visible in the reflection.

Darly, his friend. The shiny Umbreon had nothing to do with being his reflection, yet he couldn't find the strength to run away or even question how that was even possible. The sensuality coming off his naked body, from the elegance of his stance to the delicacy of his movements, was completely opposite to the roughness with which Conayr waved his arms around; it was strange, even ridiculous, for the dragon to think that yet his brain insisted on the difference in the movements.

Slowly, the dragon put his arms down. Darly had always been a mystery, especially what was under the oversized clothes he liked to wear. It never crossed even for an instant the Umbreon could be so hot and attractive. Yet there he was, at the other side of the mirror, completely naked, calling him with a sensual move from his finger.

"What?!"

That should have been enough for the dragon to snap out of the trance, yet the glow coming from his beautiful golden eyes kept him captive. The reflection was no longer tied to his movements and acted on his own, tempting Conayr to approach a little more.

The dragon, already tied to an invisible bond around his neck, followed the silent command and leaned forward, almost pressing his face against the cold, cold mirror. His warm breath fogged up the smooth surface, making Darly disappear at moments.

The sexy Umbreon took some steps backward. Conayr saw it wag his tail at the pace of a silent song, while the beauty of his delicate body came and went from the shadows, illuminated only by the glowing rings of blue fur decorating his body.

Only then, his hands make a different type of movement. Gestures, to be precise. Using both hands, the Umbreon entertained his friend by doing funny yet oddly familiar figures and gestures. Conayr paid attention to them, intrigued by something he knew he had seen Darly do before. But when? The Umbreon did so many things with his hands, and not a single one looked like those gestures.

Each one had an odd, almost uncomfortable look on it. Deformed, even. But he couldn't tell why. All he did was admire the hands dance before his eyes. And whenever he felt a little close to discovering the mystery, the glow coming off his golden eyes distracted him before he could put his ideas in order. It was like a lantern pointed straight at his eyes, bright enough to stun him and fry his brain in the process.

It kept him distracted. It kept his attention away from his hands, from the symbols inverted in the reflection. The dragon saw them, yet he couldn't find the meaning behind the same symbols his friend did on a daily basis. Something in the slow, hypnotic movement of his hands and fingers, and the inverted shapes that didn't quite fit into his memory.

A dim blue light came from the mirror frame. Tiny runes carved on the wood, hidden in plain sight and only visible to the expert eye. With each symbol the Umbreon did, a new rune began to glow, giving energy to the spell imbued in the mirror.

Conayr blinked. Then he blinked again. And again. And the world began to feel slower. Like the lingering lethargy after waking up, everything around him acquired a certain blurriness. The dragon felt the weight on his eyelids, a numbness too strong it kept him frozen in place but too weak to put him to sleep; his mind stood over a thin line, forced to keep balance as it moved forward.

It was relaxing. It was peaceful. The little dance he made with his hands got slower and slower. The delicacy of the movements, the simplicity of the gestures, and that lovely glow from his golden eyes. He never considered a simple act like that could feel like the touch of a lover in the middle of the night, yet it sent shivers down his spine and relaxed his body enough that his wings unfolded a little.

He couldn't look away. He didn't want to look away. He was happy seeing the hand gestures. It made everything feel like a dream. The mysterious antique shop that wasn't there; the old and seemingly worthless trinkets; the red crocodile with green glowing eyes; and the mirror. He was dreaming, there was no other explanation for a mirror that didn't show his reflection.

That's why he felt so sleepy. That's why he felt so tired. So sleepy. So exhausted...

While Darly continued with his strange symbols, a glimpse of his consciousness recognized the inverted meaning behind the symbols. Letters and words, distorted by the reflection. The sign language his deaf friend so fluently spoke with. Conayr only realized that after seeing in the lower end of his vision his own hands obeying the reflection, controlled by the invisible and silent spell put in the mirror.

However, it was too late.

A blue shining flooded the hallway when the last rune was "spoken". The dragon blinked once, and reality bent before his very eyes. A mysterious force pulled the bookcases and trinkets to the other side; it did not rearrange the stuff magically, it literally pulled their insides out, like a reversible plushie. Books, jewelry, frames, everything torn to pieces while a new, opposite version pushed their way from the inside.

Conayr heard the reality rip like a piece of paper. One by one, the mysterious force approached like a predator about to jump over him. But he did not fear the power. The dragon wobbled his head from side to side, captivated by the golden glow of Darly's eyes. So beautiful. So delightful. So peaceful. The dragon embraced the spell like he embraced the charm on the Umbreon's eyes, pushing his hands through the mirror to grab his friend and pull him closer.

And that's when the spell reached him.

The dragon felt a hand close around him. Then a strong pull into the mirror, one that matched the strength on which he pulled Darly out of it. Each layer of his consciousness turned inside out, torn apart and reconstructed by the spell to make the dragon fit into a new reality.

One after another, those thin layers were pulled through the mirror, until Conayr felt an immense lightness after abandoning his body completely. An orgasmic peace and serenity invaded as he experienced his pass through both dimensions. Left became right. Right became left. And everything inverted like the reflection in a mirror.

And in the middle of his ecstasy, the dragon noticed a second presence passing next to him. Another consciousness, one that resembled someone he knew. Turned inside out like him, it abandoned the mirror world thanks to the spell Conayr helped him cast.

As this presence left, the dragon saw the world he was leaving behind. The lingering link with reality faded as the remnants of his consciousness left until nothing else remained to keep him connected with the world he once lived in.

Instead, the spell put his inverted consciousness into the hollow shell the Umbreon was. Layer by layer, it reconstructed his mind to fit inside his new body, giving him control of the reflection he saw moments ago. Each finger and toe. Each limb. Each function. Conayr took over a body that wasn't his, and he felt it. It all felt alien to him, like a shirt that shrunk just enough to fit in but got tight enough that moving around was possible but slightly awkward.

Conayr felt it on each movement, on each breath, on each blink. He was inside Darly's body, trapped on the other side of the mirror. So that meant...

The dragon standing on the other side smiled at him. There was a bit of mockery and pride visible in the way he showed off his fangs, along with an overwhelming, and a bit exaggerated, confidence on his stand. He saw the Umbreon trapped in the mirror world he made, one who couldn't hear his panicked voice no matter how hard he screamed, for the sound couldn't reach his ears and not pass through the portal he opened.

The dragon took a mantle next to the vanity table and covered the mirror with it. Then, he took the mirror with him, leaving the small hallway that Conayr felt endless just minutes ago.

The red crocodile saw him as he passed by. His green eyes detected the magic now residing in the reptilian body.

"Found what you were looking for?" He asked, leaning over the desk to catch a bit of the desperation emanating from the mirror.

The dragon licked his lips, delighted at how beautiful the sound of someone's voice was. But not as beautiful as the sound of the voice that was now his.

"I got exactly what I needed."

And with that said, he left an antique store that was no longer there the moment he crossed the door.