It was supposed to be a FunHouse. The local church had put on a Carnival to raise money for charity. She and her friends had figured it was for a good cause, so why not waste an afternoon?
They all wanted to go through the House of Horrors, but she’d been too scared. There was a horrifying clown out front and secretly they were her biggest fear. She decided to walk through the Hall of Mirrors while they took their trip through creepy clown hell.
It was weird. She knew the mirrors were made of curved glass, made to reflect images not quite aligned with how things really were. But, she couldn’t help but stare at this one. It wasn’t like the others. She wasn’t comically stretched to a twig like the one before. She wasn’t squashed down flat and fat like the one near the entrance. No, this one just showed her as she was, only something was different.
She saw the various reflections of herself, thousands of her all looking back from the various reflective surfaces. But that one in front kept moving, even though she was sure she herself wasn’t. As she watched, her reflection slowly removed her top. Then, each of her reflections repeated the action. Soon she was surrounded by herself wearing nothing but her bra. Then, her reflection discarded that. In short order all she could see were thousands of images of her, naked and excited.
She didn’t look like that, did she? No, she could feel that she was still wearing her clothes. But, these were her reflections, right? If they were naked, why wasn’t she? Shouldn’t she be?
It wasn’t right. Something was wrong. She couldn’t put her fingers on it, but something was amiss. Maybe if she did what her reflections did? Would that help? It was worth a try.
She slid out of her clothes and looked at her reflections. Now she looked like them. Naked, beautiful, aroused. She was aroused in her reflections, was she that turned on outside of the mirror? Yes, she was.
She saw her reflections kneel. Saw them mouth the words. She knelt. She began to mouth the words. It was important that she follow the reflections. They were her after all, right? If they did something, it followed that she would too.
She watched herself edge slowly closer until, finally, she watched as thousands of copies of her all reached climax at the same time. All stroking herself the way she did when no one was watching. All whispering silent promises. She felt her own orgasm building, felt her muscles tense in anticipation.
She Came. And as she did she watched a thousand different versions of her all Climax again and again. Over and over the reflections mirrored the pleasure she felt, pushing it back into her. She felt the rush, the pleasure a thousand times as it fed back into her, watching herself.
It was too much for her. She felt it as who she’d been slipped away, oozing out of her still twitching slit. It didn’t matter who she’d been before she came to the House of Mirrors. What mattered was the person she became. She was a Reflection of her own pleasure. She couldn’t wait till her friends finished their ride. She was sure that she could convince them to come walk through the House of Mirrors with her. They too would Fall to their own reflections.
