Mirror, Mirror...

 Thank you for making me feel so welcome to be back

Michael gazed into the hand-mirror for the ninetieth time that day and for the ninetieth time that day, he didn't recognise the face staring back at him. The sweet little nose, the delicate chin, the exquisite cheekbones – all expertly crafted works of art, things of pure beauty...but none of them were his. Like much of the rest of his body, they were the result of state-of-the-art enhancements from the finest surgeons in the country. His body had been cut up and crafted into something spectacular by leaders in their fields. The problem was Michael didn't want any of it. Same as how he didn't want the sheer nightgowns, or the designer lingerie or even his pink painted nails. He didn't want it at all. But the mirror did. And that was all that mattered...

The hand-mirror had been a Mother's Day gift. He had been searching all day for a present for his Mom when he stumbled upon a boutique on the edge of town. The mirror had called out to him from the front window of Gloria Honeypot's Emporium of Fun and Folly and he knew he had found what he was looking for. Little did he realise at that moment that the mirror too had found its target.

Michael's mother never did receive her present. Just one look into the silvery glass was enough to lock him in. One glance and he was immediately compelled like some kind of jewellery box marionette to create something worth reflecting back. Merely a passenger behind his eyes, he had observed his body as it slipped into a nearby store and purchased cosmetics and a lacy dress. He wanted to scream as his feet marched him home to try on his new wares in front of the mirror. More than anything else, the compulsion to look at his own reflection was overwhelming. That night he had watched on in horror as the hand-mirror like some kind of demanding mistress forced him to dress himself up – constantly checking how he looked in its gleaming face as if he were being inspected. If only it had stopped at that...

The mirror clearly had loftier ambitions for whom should be allowed to stare into it. Michael looked on in dread from within his own betraying flesh as his body emptied his savings on a more complete wardrobe overhaul and then began to schedule appointments with doctors about hormone treatments and finally even surgical operations. Over the past six months he must have seen his reflection a million times and each time it looked different – softer, more feminine, strikingly beautiful even. Finally after half a year, all he had to show of his old life was an empty bank account in his own name and a tiny bald cock shrivelled by multiple rounds of hormone therapy...

There was a loud thumping on his apartment door and Michael looked away from his reflection at last. His heart began to pound and his arm involuntarily placed the mirror carefully down on the dresser. Suddenly he longed to be back standing in the middle of his room staring at his refection. It was at least better that what was about to happen. As he reached to open the door, he knew he would be looking at his face again in that glass shortly – only when he did it would be glazed in the cum of the man standing at his door.