There are spirits that live in mirrors–the beings which mimic us as our reflections, and as of late, they have become rather intrigued by this new love of people taking pictures of themselves with the little hand held devices they call smartphones. These spirits, though, while usually friendly, aren’t above being a bit meddlesome. They’ve found that, by twisting the image that gets sent back to the lens, they can radically alter the world outside their mirror, and Max was unlucky enough to be their next victim.

They’d watched him for weeks now, berating the black men who came into the locker room to change, especially the larger, out of shape ones, and the mirror spirits thought he might deserve a lesson. He’d snapped the picture, planning on sending it to a bitch he was trying to get laid with, but the image that showed up on his phone was all wrong. The man was fat, for one thing–very fat–like “having no business ever stepping into a gym” fat. There were other details that were strange too, like a tattoo across the man’s chest reading “I ❤ BBC.” What in the world was BBC? Even the case of his phone was different–where the confederate flag had been, there was now that faggoty rainbow one.

“Aww yeah, there’s my bitch–you been waiting all this time, just for me?” a voice said behind him, and he spun around. It was Ned, one of the heavy set men Max had teased regularly, but when he saw the fat black man now–and the big cock he had in his hand, Max’s mouth watered.

“Yes sir–you know I can’t leave without serving my black masters.”

What did he just say? Max barely had time to register the words that had come out of his mouth, before he was on his knees, Ned’s massive cock rammed down his throat, and he realized the strange picture was now truth. On the outside he was the fat pig, a fag desperate for black cock, but inside, he was still the same–for the moment at least.