The Morning After

For whatever reason, either psychological or biological, last night didn’t feel weird at all. During the heat of the moment it had felt entirely natural, entirely organic to fuck in their current state… but today, the morning after, suddenly I began to feel a tiny bit perverse.

I was still wrapped in the covers as I watched the other body — my other body — sit up on the side of the bed. It was still my boyfriend inside the feminine form, at least I still thought it was, but as I let my eyes trace up and down the back of my twin I couldn’t help but let my mind run free.

It was strange that last night, I didn’t seem to care. Last night when my boyfriend came back home, enchanted by that evil witch to be transformed into my exact double, all I had on my mind was to fuck him. Or… her. Me. I had torn into my twin with reckless abandon and found nothing more satisfying than bringing my own body to climax again and again.

Maybe it just hadn’t registered, but now seeing my slim waist and ass from behind in the glow of the morning sun, the perversion of my self-lust seemed to finally click. I felt sick, twisted for desiring my body the way I had….

But then he turned around. My boyfriend looked over his — her — shoulder at me with the face that still mirrored my own, and smiled. She looked so beautiful that again, in a flurry of desire, I again forgot the nature of my narcissism. I kissed myself again and felt once more at peace.


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