“Bloody Mary, Candyman–you know–you kids still do that stuff, when you’re hanging out? Or are you too busy with your video games and shit like that for an old fashioned dare and scare?” Uncle Harry laughed, and slugged back some more beer, and I took another drink too. Harry was pretty much to coolest uncle–all my friends were jealous that he let me drink beer and smoke a cigar with him when my parents were out of town for vacations. He was pretty cool, but he was also a bit of a creep. He’d never done anything with me, but I was pretty sure he was gay. I mean, I don’t have anything against gay guys, right? He was more creepy because he was always going on about this occult and magic shit, and ghosts and curses and whatever. A real horror movie buff too. He had–he claimed–real movie props from when he used to work in Hollywood or whatever. Still, I liked movies, and a good slasher was always fun. We’d usually watch some horror film and go to bed late, but more than once he’d pranked me pretty well afterwards.
“Candyman–that’s that mirror movie, right? We watched that once.”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“I don’t think any of my friends at school would even know what that is.”
My uncle leaned back, throwing out his gut like he always did when he was getting ready to ‘explain shit to his nephew’. “Well, we always used to do this as kids, light a candle, turn out the lights, and then say ‘Bloody Mary’ three times, and the devil appears behind you. But I saw the other day that the reason it works is because the brain can’t stane at it’s own reflection for very long without getting bored, and it just starts making shit up to entertain itself. Fucked up, right?”
“Yeah, real fucked up. Can I get another beer?”
Harry handed me another can of beer, and the subject drifted off for a bit until we were both drunker, and then he brought up his challenge. “Hey, you know, I got this big mirror from an old movie set down in the basement. How about this–you sit down there, in the dark, for twenty minutes–no, here’s a better idea. You sit down there as long as you want–and I’ll pay you, say a two bucks a minute that you stay down there, staring at the mirror.”
“How do you know I’ll keep staring?”
“Honor system, I’m a nice guy–and you’re too honest.”
I was curious, I admit it. So we went down–everything in the basement was covered with sheets, and he put a chair down there, and uncovered the wide, ornate mirror. I sat down, he turned off the lights and shut the door. He made me give him my phone so I wouldn’t be tempted to cheat. The basement wasn’t perfect dark–there was some light from outside through the garden level windows, just enough that I could just make myself out in the glass mirror.
The first few minutes were fine, just me staring. My eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I could make myself out better and better each time, and then I saw a…figure, materialize behind me, something strange and ghostly, and I spun around, but there was nothing there. I tried to tell myself that there was nothing, that it was just my eyes, but I looked back at the mirror and there it was again, right behind me, and a hand, a fucking hand grazed my cheek, and I swear I felt it, and I shut my eyes, and kept them shut, and tried not to imagine hands groping over me, but they were there, I was sure of it, but I stayed silent–but only because when I tried to scream, there was a chill in my lungs, and I couldn’t get anything out. I was frozen, I was frozen, and my eyes were creaking open again. And it was there, still there in the mirror, staring at me, and the figment looked like it was laughing, and then it faded away into nothing.
The terror eased up slowly, and I laughed at myself for being afraid at all. But my reflection was still strange, and that was when I realized that the mirror had become a window. I couldn’t move, I was tied to myself in the room, and that figment was still there, I could see it inside of myself, in my eyes, and it lifted my arm and waved at me in the dark, with me, it’s reflection, helplessly following. Then, it unzipped my pants, and it pulled out my cock, and started jacking off, and I followed it’s motions, unable to stop. the scene I was looking at, it was changing again. It was changing, and I was changing too. I looked…older, suddenly, older and more muscular. Hairier, my head shaved, a huge bushy beard. I lost myself in the sudden strangeness, I was so horny, the cian around my neck so heavy, the leather around my hard muscles so tight, and I was cumming, fuck, I was so horny, cumming and panting and staring at myself, and then the light flicked on.
“So, how’d my little demon do?” my uncle said, “You have fun with my nephew like we agreed?”
I was still jacking off, but on the right side of the mirror. The figment was still in the glass, staring at me. My master came down, ran his hands my physique, obviously pleased, and let me suck his cock. He was satisfied, and released the demon from bondage into the nether, and I stayed with him, his muscular cigar bear slave nephew, for the rest of my life.
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