Mirror, Mirror

Commissioned by Anonymous

As soon as he heard the car pull out of the garage, the door lowering behind Howard as he drove off, Drew hurried upstairs. He’d been planning this for about a week now, but hadn’t had the perfect opportunity, but now Howard was out all afternoon, giving Drew plenty of time to work. He’d just graduated from college and was living at home with his parents, his job prospects grim. Drew had been hard pressed to find a job even for just the summer, when Howard, a neighbor, had offered him some cash if he helped him out around the house. Drew hadn’t been very happy about it–Howard had always kind of creeped him out, this old, fat, pipe smoking man who seemed to never take his eyes off him, but he paid him fourteen bucks an hour under the table, and so Drew had taken the job–and then he’d learned about the safe.

Howard, it seemed, was a bit paranoid when it came to his money. He didn’t trust it to a bank–instead, he had a massive safe in his study, which Drew saw every Friday when the older man pulled out a massive wad of twenties and gave him his wages. Inside, he saw piles and piles of bills–more money than Howard would probably ever be able to spend, and if Drew could slip away with just a bit of it, he’d be out of debt and living comfortably states away before Howard even knew it was missing. But there was a problem–the safe could only be opened with Howard’s voice and thumbprint, and Drew had no idea how to get around that little problem.

He might have never noticed it, if Howard hadn’t spilled the coffee on his shirt that day–the older man had been so embarrassed, he’d urged Drew to give him his shirt so he could wash it quickly before the stain set in the fabric, and gave him a different one to wear for the time being, before asking Drew to carry some junk up to the attic for him. He’d noticed the elaborately framed mirror leaning against the wall, but as soon as he walked past, something strange happened–the new shirt, which had been rather loose on him, suddenly felt tighter, and in the mirror, Drew gasped. He’d gotten fat, somehow. He’d grown a gut and two small moobs, big enough to fill out the shirt he was wearing, and worse, when he pulled the shirt off, his body didn’t change back.

Sure, he’d panicked at first, but he reasoned that it must have something to do with who had previously owned the shirt, since he’d grown to fit it so perfectly, and he’d snuck downstairs, gotten his own shirt from the washer, and back in front of the mirror in the attic, his own shirt thankfully restored his old body, good as new. Still, that little surreal experience had set the wheels in his head turning, and now he knew just what to do to get his hands on Howard’s piles of cash.

He threw Howard’s suit up into the attic and followed up after it, picking up the various pieces. He probably didn’t need to wear all of it, but he wasn’t sure if a few pieces would change him enough to get into the safe. It would be better to just wear it all, it order to get as complete a transformation as possible, even if the thought of becoming Howard was disgusting. Still, there was no other feasible solution, so he pulled on the massive pants and button down shirt, put on the jacket, swimming in the piles of fabric, slipped into some shoes and lastly pulled on the gloves and glasses he’d taken from among Howard’s spares, before stepping in front of the mirror.

He looked ridiculous–the clothes were hanging off his much smaller frame, and if it wasn’t for the suspenders attached to the pants, he didn’t think he would have been able to even hold them up effectively. Hell, he couldn’t even get a good look at himself through the glasses he was wearing–Howard must not be able to see anything without them, but suddenly, he felt his head ache for a moment, and he could see perfectly clearly through the lenses–though as soon as it happened, he wished that he couldn’t. Like it or not, his plan was definitely working. He could feel his body beginning to shift and grow outward, his lithe, muscular body growing older, pounds and pounds of fat packing their way under his skin. In a matter of seconds, he could stop holding onto the clothes to keep them in place, because his body was fitting them better and better. His young face started taking on the craggy wrinkles which covered Howard’s face, his eyes turned hazel, hair sucking its way back into his head leaving him with his boss’s nearly white horseshoe, and then he felt the changes halt, and he was staring right into Howard’s face.

“Well, that certainly worked perfectly,” Drew said, then covered his mouth with one gloved hand, “Oh my goodness, I sound just like him.”

He did sound just like him–but not just his voice–’Oh my goodness?’ Who even said that anymore? Well, he’d heard Howard say it a couple of times when Drew probably would have cussed, but he just passed it off on Howard being an old fogey. He ran his hands along Howard’s full, bloated stomach, eyes locked on his own in the mirror, and found himself missing his youth all the more–his flat stomach, his pert ass–oh yes, damn if he hadn’t had the nicest ass on the block, he could just imagine what it might be like to fuck, provided he could get hard enough to pop the young boy’s cherry, though he’d be more than willing to simply have the chance to suck the boy’s big cock dry.

Drew shook his head, realizing that he’d just been lost in thought, lusting over himself, and he realized that apparently the mirror was changing more than just his physical appearance, but also his mind–and he stepped away before he could lose more of himself. Thinking, he was happy to find that none of his memories had disappeared–just that he was acting more…Howard like, which was disgusting. His old hands were shaking now, and he felt a strange knot of anxiety in his chest that simply wouldn’t go away. He patted the pockets of his suit, trying to figure out what was missing, when he realized he didn’t have a pipe! God, did he need a smoke. As disgusting as that was, the habit was just too strong to resist, not to mention his new body’s overwhelming tobacco addiction. He’d just pop down to the humidor where Howard kept his tobacco, and take a bowl to smoke, before emptying the safe, changing back, and getting out of here. Careful to avoid looking in the mirror, he stashed his clothing and carefully climbed back down the ladder into the house proper.

He had another fight with himself over smoking the pipe, which he eventually lost. It was the one thing he’d always found the most disgusting about Howard, the stink of tobacco which clung to the entire house, and he rarely seen the old man without a smokestack clamped between his teeth. Still, this body craved it, and before long, he was letting Howard’s hands guide him, as he tamped and lit a moderately sized pipe and took a deep breath into his lungs, and he hated how good it felt to smoke. Still, with a pipe in his mouth, he could finally focus on what actually mattered here–the money. He crept through the house, which was silly, since he knew Howard had left, but in the study, the nerves in his belly nearly made him sick, but it was flawless, the safe happily accepting his elderly thumb and gravelly voice as Howard’s own. However, it was after that when everything went wrong.

He swung open the safe and saw it was empty–the stacks of cash were gone–all of them. Had Howard found out about his plan? How could he have–there was no way…and then he realized he’d been played. How had he discovered the mirror? Howard. Who had given him the perfect opportunity to use it? Howard. “Oh fudge!” he shouted, and hurried as fast as Howard’s body could waddle, making his way back up to the attic but it was too late. His old body–his hot, slender body–was right there, dressed in his clothes, gazing into the mirror, grinning away.

“No! Give me back my clothes!” Drew wheezed, and gave a hacking cough. He’d lost the pipe somewhere along the way, but the old body he was stuck in just couldn’t keep up.

“Oh? So you checked the safe already? I assume you didn’t find what you were looking for? Well, don’t worry, ‘Howard’, I already stashed it away, and it’ll certainly go towards paying off that college debt of yours, and quite the nice life afterwards, I’m sure.”

“I’m not Howard! Give me back my clothes, you–” Drew said, and lurched towards his old body, who shoved him back onto the floor, and then he picked up a hammer and lifted it up, ready to smash the mirror to bits. “No!” Drew shouted, “No, please–don’t, I can’t stay like this, I can’t, please!”

Howard smirked, “Well, then how about this? I won’t smash your precious mirror, if you wrap those fat, faggot lips around my cock and suck me off, eh Howard? I know how often you used to fantasize about me, my hot body,” Howard said, lifting up Drew’s shirt, and listening to the soft groan the old man let off uncontrollably, “Of course, I’m straight now, but I wouldn’t mind seeing you suck me off, you disgusting fat fuck. Better hurry though, I don’t know how much longer I can resist swinging this hammer…”

Drew lurched up onto his knees and crawled over, yanking down his old shorts and taking his cock into his mouth, finding this body well practiced at giving blowjobs, much to his own disgust. Just like smoking the pipe, he was even more disturbed to discover that he liked it–the taste and feel of a young, rock hard cock slamming down his throat was just thrilling. Drew realized then that he was still in front of the mirror, ingraining Howard’s habits and proclivities deeper into his own psyche, and he started sucking harder, before he was forced to act entirely like Howard from now on, trapped in this old body forever.

Howard only lasted a minute, before shooting his load into Drew’s old mouth, who quickly backed off to the side, away from the mirror, and Howard dropped the hammer to the ground and dashed off laughing, driving off with Howard’s piles of cash, and leaving Drew alone in the attic. Still, he had the mirror–it was intact. All he had to do was get some of his clothes from his house, and he could change back. Of course, he had no idea how he would be able to get them–hell, Howard was probably over there already, his perfect copy–no, he had to figure out something else.

He sat up in the attic for close to half an hour, wishing he had a pipe, but refusing to give into the desire, trying to figure out a plan. However, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone pounding on the front door, and a shouting, thickly accented voice, “Howard, we know you’re in there! Give us the money Howard, or you aren’t going to like what happens next, or where your body is going to turn up! Fear gripped his gut–who in the hell was that? The pounding resumed, and a moment after, he heard a boot slam into the door, breaking the lock, as a group of men charged into the house, and he hid in the only place he could think–behind the mirror.

It took them close to an hour before they reached the attic, and they hauled him out from behind the mirror. The men were mostly middle aged, and from the look of their faces–Russian. “Look, I’m not Howard, please, you have to believe me!” Drew said, terrified when he saw that several of them were wielding bats, the ringleader leveling a gun at his head.

“Where the fuck is the money, you fat old faggot? The safe’s empty–what did you fucking do with our money?”

“He took it! Howard took my body, and he took your money! It was the mirror, this fucking mirror!” Drew said, and he started sobbing on the ground, the mafia looking from the broken old man to the large ornate mirror in front of them, quizzically.

No one is entirely sure what happened to Howard after that–when he’d been found missing the next day, and the house ransacked, the police assumed it was a home burglary turned murderous, though his body never turned up. Oddly enough, other than the empty safe, nothing was taken, aside from something in the attic, something large and wide, which had been propped up against the wall, something like a very large mirror.