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The Mirrored Half

Trist Höslein sighed, looking up at the imposing ruin of a house she’d just bought.

It wasn’t that anything major was wrong with it, exactly. She had bought the house specifically so that she could restore and then sell it. She knew how to do that, and she had employees who would naturally be of assistance. It was a job she had done many times, the rat reminded herself, and it had always been just fine in the end.

It was just the sheer magntidue of how much work it’d be that left her fidgety and anxious.

Looking at the flaking paint and what she could see of the roof – a storm had torn off a few dozen shingles – and that one broken window upstairs, it was hard to not feel a little daunted. But still, it was a job she liked. And this was her favorite part of it, exploring her new acquisition and taking in the vibe, feeling out what the house had once been and what it wanted to be in the future.

For a moment longer, Trist stood outside in the overgrown garden, taking in the summer sun and light, cooling breeze, her and the house staring at each other as if sizing each other up. She twirled her tail, just thinking about it. How, once upon a time, children had played in this garden, how many people had lived their entire lives in this building. She liked that feeling. It was like an echo of the past, and she could almost hear the playful laughter, the sizzling of the grill when the owners threw a barbecue, perhaps the splashing of an inflatable pool, all long since faded into the past.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside. Every part of the decades-old house was covered in dust, bar for where it had been disturbed by her and the agent who had given her a tour the other day. Trist wrote down those thoughts in her overly frilly pastel-pink planner. It wasn’t the one she’d had as a child, but she’d had one just like it. The kitchen was ancient and would have to be remodeled. The living room had a certain rustic charm that would only need a little touch-up. The other rooms seemed fine as they were, bar for the wallpaper needing to be replaced.

She moved on, walking up the creaking stairs to the upper floor. Nothing much to remark on, up there. Wallpaper to be replaced, one bedroom might need a new floor – it was dented and worn, probably from kids having played there – but nothing too significant, expensive, or time-consuming beyond that.

But then, Trist noticed something. A hatch in the ceiling. The building had an attic, which she hadn’t noticed previously. There was a long pole with a hook nearby, seemingly handmade, to open the hatch with. Trist did so with little trouble, pulling down the ladder. Now, her heart was beating a little faster. Attics held all kinds of treasures. Ghosts too, sometimes. Not that she had ever seen a ghost, but the little rat was fairly certain that they existed.

Still, they probably wouldn’t come out in broad daylight.

She climbed up the ladder, and sure enough, the attic was full of stuff. There were boxes, crates, old furniture, and entirely too many cobwebs than Trist would’ve preferred. She wrote in “exterminator” onto her to-do list, though for all she knew it could just be one very old spider who had made every web herself.

Then, something caught her eye. A rather large frame covered with a dusty velvet cloth. A mirror, no doubt. Large antique mirrors could be worth a fortune. Excitedly, the rat pulled the cloth off, and sure enough, it was a very ornate mirror, a little taller than her own petite frame. The frame – brass with a gold filigree, or maybe fully gold if she was lucky, Trist thought – was intricately detailed, and the mirror itself absolutely pristine. Almost too pristine for something as old as it had to be. Did that mean it was a reproduction? Can’t be, the rat told herself.

Trist took a moment to admire her reflection, brushing her bob cut hair from her eyes. She looked pretty enough, as usual. Small but with curves in all the right places, like previous partners had always told her. Though, the more she thought about it, her reflection showed her that she really did have impressive tits. Huh. It had to be a trick of the light; she wasn’t that busty… or was she?

It wasn’t a funhouse mirror that’d distort the image or anything, but, huh, Trist thought. Maybe she just hadn’t paid attention to her tits much recently. Maybe she had gone through one of those growth spurts some women got well past puberty. Trist glanced down at her breasts, and sure enough, they were just as big as in the mirror. She felt the sudden urge to examine herself a little more closely, and quickly – before she could really think about what she was doing – unbuttoned her top and unclasped her bra, letting her heavy breasts bounce free.

Huh. Growth spurt, then. Gotta be. She squeezed her breasts to make sure nothing was wrong, and they felt sensitive enough that the rat had to bite her lip to keep from moaning. Why, she wasn’t sure, because the house was very much abandoned and there was nobody else there. Except maybe ghosts. But not during daytime, she reminded herself. So, she could moan freely, and as her hands brushed over her nipples, Trist did, letting out a light, squeaky moan of desire.

And then she caught herself, blushing as she quickly scrambled to put her bra and top back on, still looking at her smiling reflection. She had no idea what had gotten into her.

Why was this mirror even here? Trist found herself wondering why anyone would’ve left such a beautiful mirror behind. It was difficult to even look away from the crystal-clear reflection, the likes of which she had never seen in an old, handcrafted one. It almost felt like… no, she shook her head. It wasn’t time to get distracted by idle flights of fantasy of a magic mirror. That was ridiculous, and she had a house to inspect and renovations to plan!

She climbed down the ladder and got to work. By the end of the day, she had just about everything sorted out, but the mirror kept popping back into her head long after she’d left the house. It had just looked so interesting, and she kept thinking about it as she ate dinner, then again when she had a shower, and even as she tried to sleep, her thoughts kept coming back to that large, ornate mirror.

She’d have to see it again, at least once before the house was emptied out and sold. Maybe it could be a little treat to herself, she mused. A big old mirror in her little apartment. It’d make for a great conversation piece, at least, because she couldn’t imagine letting it go no matter how much collectors might pay.

It wasn’t the first time the rat had found herself inordinately attached to some object. She had a bad habit of obsessing over things, so it didn’t really strike her as anything extraordinary. Trist did, though, make a little mental plan to go visit the mirror again before she went to work the next day. Her actual job. Usually, she worked at a rather busy office; restoring houses was her much-beloved side hustle.

The rat, with her own tail wrapped around her along with her thick, luxurious blanket, fell asleep to mirror-dreams, her mind feeling just as perfect and reflective as the surface of a lake on a still day.

In the morning, Trist could barely contain herself. She had work, but there was no rush to the office, and her new acquisition was on the way there anyway, so she indulged in a little stop, pulling into the overgrown driveway and once again unlocking the door of that soon-to-be-profitable old house. She climbed into the attic, having left the ladder down, and found herself rushing to see the mirror again.

But as he stood in front of it, there was something different. Her reflection looked flushed and… sticky, as if the surface of the mirror wasn’t quite as crystalline as it had been. The sight didn’t alarm her, but it was less because of any rationalization and more because it was as if her thoughts were mirrored, like any worries were reflected away before they could be fully processed, a figurative splinter of the beautiful mirror in between her eyes and whatever part of her mind fully processed those thoughts.

She stared at herself staring back, only dirty. It wasn’t just stickiness, her reflection looked aroused, which meant, Trist reasoned, that she actually looked just as horny even if she didn’t feel like it. Or did she? She’d feel horny if she was horny, and according to the reflection her thighs looked rather damp just beneath her skirt. Curious, she lifted her skirt a little while looking at the mirror and confirmed; she was wet. A quick swipe of her finger offered definite proof. It was strange, she hadn’t felt horny at all when she got here, but now she was suddenly dripping at the thought of… what, exactly?

Well, the dirty surface of the mirror made it look like she had cum splattered over her. Just a trick of the eye, she thought, but at the same time, it made the rat feel a strange yearning to match that look in reality. Maybe if she- if she- she’d had a few coworkers proposition her for all kinds of indecent acts, it was just part of working at a very male-dominated and testosterone-fueled office, but they’d still be up for it, if she just asked. They’d splatter their warm cum all over her tits, if she wanted them to. Maybe even between her legs if she just pulled up her skirt.

Her reflection, she suddenly realized, wasn’t wearing panties. And neither was she, the latter coming as a rather big shock to the rat, who squeaked as she realized she’d apparently forgotten them at home. Abashed, she tugged her skirt down, but just then, she was interrupted by her alarm going off. It was time to head to work, and she absolutely did not have the time to either go home or to the store for a fresh pair.

She didn’t see her reflection grin as she turned around and rushed down the ladder, head filled with ideas, each more improper, lascivious, and outright dirty than the last.

Just keep your skirt down, Trist told herself. Legs together, skirt down. Or not. Maybe let them see so they make you all sticky like that reflection of yours. It’ll feel good to be all tingly, wet, and filthy with cum.

Those thoughts were quickly followed by another: What’s wrong with me?

She made no connection to the mirror, her mind seemingly shielding itself from the possibility of something impossible. To Trist, she was just suddenly so desperately needy, to the point of drunkenness, that she wasn’t sure if she was even fit to drive. But drive she did, all the way to the parking lot of the enormous conglomerate she worked for.

Before she got out of the car, Trist tried to take stock of the situation. She twirled her tail again, flushed and strangely nervous, not to mention terribly horny. The feeling of wanting to – no, needing to – match her reflection was overpowering. Maybe she should at least let her skirt ride on her way into the office. Maybe she should bend over just next to one of her many, horny coworkers, and then let him pull her into the restrooms or the warm, noisy server room… where he’d then have his way with her.

She’d never really had those kind of inclinations before, but here they were, overbearing like a heat, but somehow even more commanding. Demanding.

Trist headed inside, legs trembling slightly, and she didn’t adjust the skirt much at all. Feeling the air-conditioned air against her bare, wet folds made her feel so very naughty and yet, very attractive at the same time, almost powerful in that she knew she could have everything she wanted if she just became a little bit more like her reflection.

She brushed against one of her coworkers, a muscular grey wolf, on her way to her cubicle. Then she stopped. Early on, the wolf had grabbed her ass as she walked past, and she had reprimanded him for it. He hadn’t done it again, but suddenly Trist wanted him to, so she struck up a conversation, standing there within arm’s reach.

He caught on alarmingly quickly, and Trist found herself standing there with the wolf’s strong fingers digging into her bare cheek.

“Well, well, has the little rat finally figured out what she wants?” he growled, voice deep and bassy.

“M-maybe,” she stuttered, a little unsure of what she was getting herself into.

“You’re not even wearing panties,” the wolf grinned, and Trist blushed at that, only leaving herself wetter as the wolf greedily and shamelessly explored the curve of her ass, and then, sensing the moment was right, cupped her naked mound. “And so wet for some wolf-cock too. Why’d it take you so long, you slut?”

Normally, she’d have reported him to HR. But right now, she wanted this just as badly as the wolf did, if not even more. She felt like she had to drain balls, ideally inside herself, maybe with a little splattering over the rest of her so she’d look exactly the same as her distorted mirror-self, dirty and so deeply horny and satisfied.

Naturally, she put up no resistance whatsoever when the wolf deigned to finally stand up, pressing against her vulnerable and needy form to let her feel the girth of his bulge through his trousers. “I don’t have a lot of time, but for a greedy slut like you I’ll make some. Let’s go give you what you need,” he growled, quiet enough that other coworkers couldn’t hear him.

He dragged her into the server room, just as she had imagined, her fantasies spurred on by that damned mirror. Once there, the wolf wasted no time at all, unzipping his pants and letting his half-erect cock flop out. Even in that state, it was almost as thick as her wrist.

“Down on your knees. You might as well earn this cock since you said no the first time,” he growled, and Trist obeyed on pure instinct, prey instincts kicking in as she sunk down to her knees. The wolf approached until his cock was just barely touching her snout. “Now, get to work.”

Here she was. She was really about to do it, to submit to her asshole of a coworker just because she needed cock, needed to feel dirty. She could still back out, it wasn’t as if he could force her right here in the office, Trist reminded herself, but then again, she didn’t want to. Instead, she opened her mouth dutifully and wrapped her lips around the wolf’s swelling tip.

“There you go, doesn’t that feel better than playing standoffish? I knew you just needed a good dicking to come around,” the wolf huffed, and thrust deeper into her mouth roughly, hands grabbing her large round ears to pull her close.

Strangely enough, the first thought in Trist’s head as she started to obediently suck on the wolf’s cock wasn’t about how degrading it was. Instead, she imagined how she’d look in that old mirror, sucking cock so eagerly, and that in turn quickly left her sopping wet, the lupine shaft suddenly both tasting and feeling like the best thing ever.

She sucked on it, tongue lashing across the slick, veiny surface, lapping just below the wolf’s pointed glans, and was immediately rewarded for each jolt of pleasure with a squirt of warm, tangy precum splattering over her tongue. Trist let some if drip from the corners of her mouth and onto her exposed cleavage. It just right, and the main question now was if she wanted the wolf’s cum on her tits or inside her.

Feminine greed made her settle on the latter, even if it wouldn’t make her look as pretty. And so, after slurping on her coworker’s cock for a few more moments, she stood back up.

“Did I tell you to get up?” the wolf growled, but his dominant resolve was quickly crushed by Triss leaning against a server rack and raising her tail, her skirt lifted by the strong limb and baring her dripping slit. She felt that affirming quiver along her spine as she heard the wolf growl again and then approach. “…fine, I guess you just need it too bad. Not gonna wear a condom, though, so you’re taking every drop.”

This is what I should be doing, Trist repeated to herself. She hadn’t ever really been slutty like this, but seeing her sticky reflection had just sparked something inside the rat. Just like my reflection.

And so, instead of doing the smart thing and telling the wolf to stop, she did what felt good and moaned encouragingly at the first touch of his red-hot and potent cock against her slick puffy lips. She really was doing this, letting someone fuck her without protection! It was such a high, such a rush that Trist could scarcely believe she hadn’t done it before!

He thrust into her unceremoniously, and the rat gasped with barely-concealed joy as the wolf’s cock spread her open. He didn’t care about her pleasure, only getting his rocks off, which somehow only made the entire thing feel more delicious. Trist found herself liking the idea of being a casual lay, she realized, which was degrading but also deeply erotic. She wasn’t a real person, anyway. Just a reflection of a better version of herself.

That last thought didn’t really register because just as it formed, the wolf began to thrust, eagerly claiming her drooling hole for himself with each sharp buck of his hips.

“You don’t even care if you cum, do you?” he rumbled. “Just want a warm load of wolf cum in that slutty cunt of yours?”

“No,” Trist squeaked, unable to choke out a more elaborate answer. It all felt so affirming, in delicious way punctuated by little pleasure-quakes that made her inner muscles clamp down hard on his cock.

“No, what? Tell me what you want,” her uncaring lover grunted, thrusting hard enough that she felt his balls slap against her clit. Full of cum. Cum that she needed. Who cares about risk when it feels this good?

The urge was overpowering without even accounting for how good the wolf’s cock felt, sloppily pushing in and then pulling out again in a steady staccato rhythm, and the lack of protection let her feel every inch in vivid detail. Every vein, every pulse that shot along the shaft and erupted inside her as another squirt of precum that might already be knocking her up. But regardless of the risk, she wanted more, and so she had to obey the asshole coworker claiming her most intimate place for himself.

“I w-want you to cum inside me,” she squeaked out.

“Yeah, you’re getting that, you little rat slut,” the wolf growled, and then he really began to fuck her, moving from that leisurely pistoning into a rapid hammering, shaking the entire server rack that Trist was leaning against, not caring in the slightest if he happened to damage it. Or if he happened to damage the rat, for that matter.

But she didn’t care! She wanted to be a huge slut! If someone else walked in right now she’d let them fuck her too! Her body screamed with joy at the thought of being more like her reflection. And so, the rat thrust back, rocking her body against the wolf’s intruding cock, surrendering fully to the wonderful sensations that it fucked into her, resonating through her entire body as her pussy greedily clamped down around him, so tightly that it felt like his cock was made for her, a perfect – if stretching – fit. And he was going to fill her, too! She couldn’t stop thinking about that, the cum that’d be pumping into her, but at the same time she almost wished he was wearing a condom so that she could let the cum dribble all over her afterwards, to be worn like a badge of slutty pride.

For now, though, she’d settle with having it inside her. With how the wolf was throbbing in the loving embrace of her drenched pussy, Trist knew it wouldn’t be long, now. Doubts flitted through her mind, little worries fragmented by pleasure, the knowledge that she really shouldn’t be doing this, but by now there was more than just the mirror’s influence in play; her body was practically burning up with pleasure, and she was so, so close to cumming, she couldn’t stop now, and the wolf certainly wasn’t going to.

She wouldn’t have had time, anyway. Just a few thrusts later, she felt the wolf’s amazing cock jerk inside her. He growled something about giving her some bastard pups to raise, and then erupted as deep in her body as he could thrust without tying, his knot slamming hard against Trist’s folds and pulsating to the rhythm of his virile release. The heat pumping into her – some oozing out without his knot to keep it inside – made her shudder with delight, and not only from pleasure, but from fulfilling that urge to be the way her mirror image had looked.

Her fingers dove between her to rub her clit, desperate to join the wolf in his orgasm, and only a few throbs later, she did, arching her back and squeaking out in dissolute joy as her orgasm washed over here. Even in the throes of pleasure, Trist could hardly believe she was doing this. It all felt like a very, very erotic dream, an act that she’d never do even if some other her might, and yet, here she was in, with her coworker’s cock pulsing inside her as it seeded her, and her greedy, spasming cunt eagerly drinking down every drop of that virile, masculine bounty.

“Well,” the wolf grunted, pulling out without really bothering to help Trist ride out of her own orgasm, though slowly enough that she just barely managed to do so anyway. After all, few men would willingly leave a warm, eager pussy. He was spent, though. “That was fun. Hit me up when you need more cock, slut. God knows the wife isn’t horny enough.”

He wiped his cock clean on Trist’s ass, commenting something about wanting to fuck that hole next, then stuffed that softening shaft back into his pants and left the rat to leak onto the server room floor.

That gave Trist a little moment to think, feeling warm cum run down her wet thighs. What had she just done? There was some clarity in the post-orgasmic bliss, but not much. Again, it was supremely difficult to think about the consequences, despite the rat’s normally rather analytical and introspective nature. It just felt good to be like this, to be a slut. But was it really her, or was it just the-

-the mirror slipped from her thoughts, unable to make the connection, that dizzying moment of her neurons being somehow shiny and reflective, just like the-

She cupped a hand beneath her sex and shuddered again as she more of the wolf’s cum ooze out. She then brought that hand up to look at the thick, white globs in her palm. It was such a sexy feeling. Trist let it drip between her fingers and into her exposed cleavage, delighting in how appropriate it felt. What if someone noticed? Well, she’d blush, but maybe she’d let them fuck her too, if they asked.

Yet there was still a quiet voice of lingering doubt in her head. Something wasn’t right here, but the rat was utterly unable to pin down what exactly the problem was with smearing someone’s cum into her tits, and leaking more of it quite shamelessly.

To her surprise – and some disappointment – nobody else at work commented on her adjusted appearance. Maybe they were just too shy. Trist barely got any work done, instead caught up in more erotic fantasies while she tried to focus on excel sheets and finances, to no great success.

Just need to get fucked more. Really get it out of my system. Then we’re back to normal, whispered the growing voice of a rather filthy, carnal addiction. But that voice felt good to listen to, unlike the one that doubted her, that whispered about risks and reputation.

On her way home that night, Trist stopped by the old house again. Despite all the anxieties, she felt more proud than anything, proud about what she had done, still feeling the wolf’s cum, wet and thick inside her with some of it smeared over her cleavage. It just felt so right.

Though even then, she couldn’t shake the thought that it was wrong anyway. Yes, there was pride and that deep satisfaction of both being inseminated and looking more like she remembered her reflection looking, but she wasn’t completely gone. She knew that she’d done something terribly stupid and risky. They hadn’t even worn protection, but it was as if she’d suddenly developed an addiction which was now just as suddenly sated. Not to mention that having done it with the wolf once, he’d probably want to do it again, and their whole session was probably on some security tape somewhere, which meant that she couldn’t really say no without ruining both of their careers.

Further, if word got around, her other lascivious coworkers might start seeing her as some kind of free use slut or something and demand they all get to fuck her. The thought was terrifying, and yet, as fate would have it, it also felt electrifying and tingly to think about all those men wanting to fuck her specifically. She couldn’t let them – or could she? – but the attraction made her whole body buzz anyway.

Foolish and risky, she thought, as she climbed into the attic. Definitely couldn’t let it happen again. At least not many times. Otherwise, she’d end up pregnant with an unknown father, too.

Then, she found herself standing in front of the mirror again. She barely dared to look, as if afraid of what she might see, but eventually, she did. Once again, her reflection was there as always, and how could it not be? No matter what mystical meaning her confused mind applied to it, it was simply a mirror. Framed silver and glass in a frame. No matter how fancy it was, it was just a mirror. Just a mirror. Just. A. Mirror, she scolded herself. Stop being stupid, Trist.

Thus, Trist stood there, gazing into her own eyes once again while twirling her tail. Immediately, she was struck by the fact that what she had done wasn’t enough. She looked – should’ve looked, she reminded herself – even sluttier. There wasn’t enough cum on her legs, like it looked like there was on her reflection’s. The strangely distorted surface made it look like cum was actively drooling out of her rather than just safely inside her, and that she, or at least her lower body, was soaked in it. Her pussy looked freshly fucked, and it was, but in the mirror, it looked like she’d taken a dozen cocks, and probably sucked a few too given how smeared her makeup looked.

She had to do more, she realized! Her reflection grinned at her, but she was grinning too as her hand slipped down beneath the hem of her skirt again to feel that sticky mess.

Maybe if she went to a club or something. A loud, shamelessly horny club. Or a gloryhole. The ideas were flooding into her mind, now, under the mirror’s influence. She should do something in public so that those with keen eyes could see just how slutty she was, just like her beautiful reflection showed her! She looked down, admiring how sexy her body really was, and how easily she could use her curves to make anything happen that she wanted.

She tugged her skirt up, really admiring her pussy in the mirror’s surface. It looked so beautiful, relaxed, and happy. Freshly fucked, with a slick sheen of cum on her lips and more slowly oozing out as she spread herself wide with a pair of fingers. She tweaked her clit, teasing out more of those slutty, wonderful feelings. It felt good to just be herself and let all those repressed urges bubble to the surface. Trist caught a glimpse of herself masturbating and realized she was already rubbing that stiff little nub, but… wait, had she been masturbating before the mirror showed it?

Just then, though, there was a sudden shiver of fearful anxiety that interrupted her growing reverie. Why would her reflection-

-she looked back up. Her reflection looked normal, no dirtier than she was. She moved her hand through the air, halfway expecting the mirror to show something different, but it didn’t. Of course it doesn’t, silly. Mirrors just reflect what’s in front of them. Ghosts don’t live in mirrors either. I mean, there’s no space for a ghost there.

She was rambling mentally, trying to numb that quiet, squeaky voice of anxiety and force her train of thought back on the rails instead of ending up plowing through a crowd of innocent civilian thoughts. Trist had a tendency to do that when she wasn’t entirely focused on any given subject, and she quietly scolded herself for even entertaining the silly idea that the mirror would lie to her or manipulate her.

Trist felt a sudden urge that interrupted her anxious inner monologue. Lust flared again as she imagined how she’d look in the middle of a club, naked, or at least bottomless, griding her shapely ass against some unknown man. She watched her reflection mimic the motions as she did the same. She’d just thrust her wet cunt onto his cock, and they’d keep dancing while they fucked in plain view of everyone. In the mirror, she watched herself getting fucked by some unseen lover, opening her mouth to take another beautiful shaft into her mouth. At some point she almost forgot she was moving at all, just watching that other her rock back and forth, moaning and sticking her tongue out for another warm load of cum. It was hypnotic, even if she was sure, or at least fairly sure, that she was still the one moving the reflection rather than the other way around.

And with that mirror-play came an unquenchable, roaring arousal. It hit her suddenly, so hard that she clenched around her imaginary lover, the act moving from simple urge-driven theater to something altogether more desperate. It wasn’t enough! She had to do it in reality or she’d never look like her beautiful cum-splattered and wet-pussied reflection did!

It was Friday. She had time to hit one of the big clubs in town, and she was already nicely dressed enough for work that they’d let her in right away with the right amount of cleavage shown. Her heart was beating rapidly, so fast it felt like it’d surely burst out of her chest as she drove back to the city. She hadn’t felt this horny and needy since she was a teenager, and the idea of taking even more cocks in her already cum-filled cunt nearly made her cream herself in the car already. Trist couldn’t resist letting a finger dance over her bare folds even as she drove.

The club was easy to find. A big warehouse at the edge of town. It was one of the hottest destinations in town, owing in no small part to the rumor of their big raves often ending in orgies. The cops turned a blind eye to all that, perhaps because more than a few of their own also liked indulging, and who could truly blame them, Trist thought. Sex was such a natural part of being alive. It was an easy way to feel good and make others feel good in turn. Raising her tail or spreading her legs was a charitable act immediately rewarded.

Sure enough, the bouncers waved her right in, and the rat found herself in the middle of a large crowd dancing and gyrating along to the booming beat. It wasn’t the kind of music she normally listened to, but it made it hard to think and even harder to hear her inner voice, which was just what she needed.

She took her place just about in the middle, admiring everyone around her, neon-lit and gorgeous in the flashing lights. Some of the women were already topless. Others weren’t dressed at all. The men were no different, and even just a brief scan of all the half-naked bodies moving around her revealed multiple half-hard cocks of every species she could imagine. This was hedonism, pure and simple, carnal revelry set to the booming tones of music and sex.

It didn’t take long before she felt someone grab her ass, squeezing a soft, plump cheek as if testing how she’d react. The rat didn’t react at all, and kept dancing, letting her unseen admirer enjoy her body, showing her all the affection that she deserved for being such a sexy, slutty rat. Just like her reflection. All those acts she had seen herself perform would soon happen right here, in the flesh, imaginary lovers having their roles filled in by anonymous, hard cocks.

Someone else’s hand slipped under her skirt and cupped her wet pussy and Trist moaned happily, even if her voice was completely drowned out by the far too loud music. She couldn’t hear what anyone else was saying, and that lent the whole thing a dreamy atmosphere, as if nothing was real. Just an obscene reflection of reality. But that was okay, whatever it was.

Emboldened by her moaning, that someone pushed a finger into her slick pussy. She wondered if they could feel that someone had already fucked her earlier, or if they even cared.

It turned out that they didn’t. At least the one behind her didn’t, because seconds later she felt a heavy cock flop against her ass. It felt equine, but she wasn’t going to turn around. That wasn’t the point. She didn’t need to see her lover, and their revelry was quickly attracting a crowd of eager, stiffening cocks around her, all dancing and swaying along to the music as they waited for their turns. It felt special. Trist felt special. This was what she’d always wanted to be, the center of lusty, public chaos.

Again, the horse behind her was encouraged by her lack of any sort of protest, and soon she felt the flat crown of his meaty cock push at her lips, with someone else’s hand still playing with her clit – and probably feeling up the horse’s cock, too – at the same time.

One firm thrust later, and she was getting fucked, right then and there on the dancefloor, and Trist allowed herself to moan shamelessly as that thick, twitching length pushed into her. Her coworker had been uncaring – hot, but uncaring and mean – and this was much better, simply an anonymous celebration of hedonistic, perverted revelry, like a gloryhole but with nothing between herself and the anonymous cock she was taking, radiating with pleasure so intensely that the touch between her slippery inner walls and his firm cockmeat felt electrifying.

Feeling increasingly greedy and confident, Trist grabbed the cock of one of the males standing right next to her. She almost surprised herself when she felt the shaft throb warmly in her hand, but the time for doubt was over, and the time for pure indulgence was here. She stroked the other anonymous man’s cock, simply enjoying the feeling as if drunk or high, while her pussy glutted eagerly on the horsecock fucking her, breeding her, without ever knowing her name.

God, I’m such a slut. Just like my r-

The horse turned out to be a quick shot. Trist suddenly heard him whinny, followed by that familiar and tantalizing rapidfire twitching inside her, each throb followed by a bloom of slick, sexy heat. She didn’t mind. By now both of her hands were full of cock, and if she could’ve leaned over enough to suck a fourth, she would’ve. It wasn’t the quality but the sheer quantity that’d bring her over the edge. It reminded her of a past she had never lived, but that an alternate version of herself might have, as a wanton whore running a fine establishment for-

-that thought, too, was interrupted by another heavy surge of pleasure as the horse pulled out, his softening flare still managing to scrape out enough of his cum that she felt it gush down her legs when his cock left her eager body. For a moment, she felt dreadfully empty, but then someone else quickly jostled up behind her, already angling his cock to slide into her. And then he did, the feeling even better this time despite this one wearing a condom. After all, Trist was already leaking cum; she’d be fine with some of the shyer men wearing protection.

Though she would totally save the condom once he had filled it. Maybe hang it on her belt.

She felt the same sticky heat splash over her arm, one of the two canine cocks she was stroking erupted all over her, throbbing thankfully in her grasp as it soaked her hand in cum, the man it belonged to trembling in sweet release. The moment he stopped, she brought that cum-covered hand to her mouth and licked it clean, closing her eyes as her tongue scooped out mouthfuls delicious cum, showing off to all of her admirers, letting it drip from her lips as she moaned out with rutting-joy. Someone cheered, and then the other man she was stroking came too, this one’s cum mostly landing on her legs and ass, but she didn’t mind. It was still more cum, more of that beautiful, frenzied orgy, just for her.

The one in her pussy throbbed in turn, filling the condom amidst groans of ecstasy, before pulling out, peeling the condom off and tying it closed, and then indeed hanging it on the belt of Trist’s messy skirt. Her next lover was bare again. The fourth wore a condom, dutifully hung on her skirt. At some point she was bent over enough and supported by whoever was fucking her sloppy, bare cunt that she managed to catch a warm load of cum onto her tongue with a little help from an eager fox. Oh, this was heaven, of that, Trist was quite sure, as she came again and again, the sensation of being so full of the mixed cum of what eventually became dozens of total strangers, each inseminating her with their wonderfully masculine gifts. Pulsing, throbbing, jerking, covering every inch of her body and her receptive womb with more and more cum until…

…well, until Trist was no longer even on the dancefloor, instead finding herself splayed out on an old sofa in the corner, a long line of men all taking turns on her. She closed her eyes and imagined just how good her reflection would look in the mirror, soaked with cum and with her pussy red and puffy from getting fucked so thoroughly, her skirt lined with filled condoms from half of her lovers and the rest of that pearly white oozing down her thighs.

Laying on her belly after a rough breeding on all fours, someone’s cock suddenly poked against her clean, unused ass. She squirmed a little, lazily, and at this point she didn’t really mind. She was constantly oozing cum that’d quickly lubricate their cock enough when he quickly wiped it against the groove of her sex, and what were here holes for, if not for using?

It hurt a little when he thrust inside, roughly spreading her virgin ring of muscle open, but not for long. This one wasn’t too big, which meant that he could relatively easily slide in, lubed by the cum of a dozen other men, and quickly work himself into a rhythm. Trist didn’t even open her eyes; it just didn’t matter who it was, only that they had a cock and were enjoying her body, and her pucker happily clenched around his cock all the same, despite the painful sting of that previously unfucked part of her body stretched wide.

It felt good to have them claim her entire body though, and soon she was rocking her shapely ass back against the cock inside her while sucking on yet another, until she felt that familiar throbbing once again, virile heat filling her bowels as well. The next male went for her sloppy cunt again, but Trist was delighted to realize that unlike her pussy, she could clench her ass tight enough to keep all that warm cum inside her, with nothing but a little trickle leaking. It felt good, greedily clinging to their offerings rather than just soaking her thighs with it.

They used her for a little while longer, at least as far as Trist knew, because she fell asleep like that, with someone still fucking her, and by the time she woke up, the party was over. She was quickly shooed out by security guards, though not in a way that suggested they had anything less than full approval for how she looked, half-naked and filthy with the smell of cum and her own juices.

“Just gotta close up, you know, but you were great,” a panther laughed. “Come by again when you feel the itch.”

And then she was outside, left slowly stumbling to her car, legs feeling like she had no bones at all. But she immediately had a destination in mind as she got into her car.

For one last time, Trist made the drive to the house she’d bought, on which work still hadn’t started because of her distractions. It probably wasn’t a good idea. At this point, even if it was impossible, she knew that she was being manipulated, somehow. But beyond that fundamental realization, she was confused. When she closed her eyes, it was her standing there, in that old mirror, looking at the other her. And the rat was increasingly unsure of which one was really her. A reflection was the same as the object casting it, but at the same time, it wasn’t the object itself.

Good as she felt, the experience had completely shattered her psyche into erratic shards of pleasure and whatever else there was, each reflecting a completely different part of her. Who was she? Was she the happy, shameless whore that she felt like right now, or was she the shy, anxious Trist who had bought the house?

She pulled into the driveway and buried her face in her hands. The mirror was calling to her, tugging at her very soul to come and take one last look. She wasn’t sure what would happen. But it hadn’t guided her wrong, yet. At least she thought it hadn’t, feeling the filled condoms still dangling from her belted skirt.

It felt final, somehow. But whatever it was, she wanted it to happen. After all, who was Trist Höslein anyway? Just some nervous office rat who dabbled in house restoration. This new version of her, the one the reflection had revealed to her, was so much more fun to be. One last time, Trist climbed up the ladder and into the attic, where the mirror stood as if waiting for her. Today, it felt almost menacing.

Maybe it really was haunted. But it was too late to worry about that, now. She’d never really figure out who she was without the mirror’s help.

Initially, Trist could only muster the courage to stand in front of the imposing thing. But then, slowly, she raised her gaze. There was no reflection, this time. Of course there wasn’t. Humming quietly to herself, Trist grabbed the old velvet cloth and draped it over the mirror so that it’d remain just as pristine for the next person who needed to see it.

Maybe she’d make this entire place into an upper-class bordello. Yes, hadn’t it once served as that, way back in a distant time? Oh, it felt good to be herself again. Trist smiled, twirling her tail like a loose strand of hair, this time with excitement rather than anxiety.