BAD SELF IMAGE by
Marsha didn't like mirrors, a fact that became all too
awkward for her when she went out shopping for one. The
twenty-six year old redhead wandered the aisles of the local
antique shop that Saturday, wondering if she could get away
with buying a different gift for Melanie's house warming
party. She turned over the piece of paper she held in her
fingers. Marsha clucked her tongue quietly, knowing that
fate had made her chose that specific slip of paper from the
group that her friends had piled up on the table at their
favorite bar. She resigned herself to discharging her duty
as efficiently as possible.
"You've got a good eye, miss. That's an excellent mirror
Marsha turned and greeted the thin, elderly gentleman who
ran the shop. "I don't see a price on it. Is it for sale?"
"Oh, yes. We got it in not half an hour ago, and I was
fixing to put this tag here on it right away."
"How much is it?"
"I hadn't decided on a price yet. It's quite ornate,
obviously in the French style..."
"The frame needs some polishing," Marsha said.
"Yes, that it does."
"How about 120 for it?"
"Eh? Oh, I don't think that I could let it go for less than
"150 it is then. You take credit cards, right?"
Marsha carefully hauled the heavy mirror into the living
room of her apartment and set it against the wall. She tore
off the foam wrapping that had covered it during its trip
home and stepped back to examine the intricate scroll-work
that surrounded the decades-old silvered glass. The weekends
in her youth she had spent watching her mother wander
through estate sales and second hand stores for brass,
bronze, and silver antiques, memorizing the way she
appraised various items, and helping her as she removed the
crust and stains of neglect had paid off. This was a good
deal, and it wouldn't take long to make the piece look worth
several times what she had paid for it.
She caught her reflection staring back at her, and that
soured the smile off of her face. The aging mirror contained
the image of a young woman with a slim figure, firm breasts
and long, lean legs. Marsha's eyes saw something entirely
different. Filling the frame was plain, average, freckled
girl with poor posture, an unimpressive bust, pencil thin
legs, and pale skin. Marsha's friends kept telling her that
she was good looking, and that she was exaggerating the
laundry list of features she always complained about. The
redhead always thanked them, assuming that they were merely
being polite for her sake. She couldn't bring herself to
believe that they didn't see the same flaws that stood out
so plainly to her every time she saw herself in the mirror.
Marsha draped the wrapping back over her new purchase, and
ignored it for the rest of the day.
When Sunday afternoon arrived, Marsha gathered her polishing
supplies, turned on the radio, and set to work. She applied
the greasy compound gingerly around the many curves that
arced from the frame like locks of bronze hair. The song on
the radio finished, and an announcer began the weather
forecast. Marsha turned her head to listen to it. As she did
so, her index finger scraped against a sharp edge of the
frame. She drew her hand away quickly and clutched it in
pain as a thin line of blood appeared. She washed the cut in
the sink and returned to clean up the mirror. Some blood had
dripped on the reflective surface and run down it in a dark
red line to the base of the mirror. Marsha cleaned the mess
up and grimaced. Melanie's gift was becoming more of an
irritation than she had imagined.
"Well," Marsha reminded herself, "it'll be out of here on
Thursday. I can deal with it until then."
That evening while getting dressed for bed, Marsha looked
down at her body. She heard a voice in her head catalog the
usual litany of things she didn't like about it. She tried
to shrug it out of her mind as she slipped into her
"I'm not unattractive," she thought to herself confidently.
The voice didn't stay silent, however. "Yeah, sure. That's
why that handsome guy passed you up the other night for that
hawk-nosed blond, isn't it?"
Marsha frowned, and reached for her pack of cigarettes. She
lit one and went into the living room to watch television.
By the time the cigarette had burned down to the end, the
redhead had cycled through all of the cable channels three
times but hadn't found one worth staying on. She crushed the
butt out in the ashtray on the table and shut off the TV.
Looking across the room, she noticed herself in the mirror.
A strange expression seemed to cross her face, and Marsha
walked closer to get a better look. She studied her
reflection for a moment, but couldn't detect anything out of
"Not much to look at, eh?" said a voice in her head. Marsha
cast her gaze downward self-consciously. "Just check out
those spindly white chicken legs," the mocking voice
Marsha glanced upward, catching sight of her feet in the
mirror. She shifted her stance and then stopped. Something
was out of place, but she couldn't pinpoint what it was. She
twisted one foot, and watched as one of the feet in the
mirror moved in unison with hers. Suddenly, it struck her
what the problem was.
The wrong foot in the mirror had moved.
Marsha hurriedly examined her reflection, and noticed other
differences. Her own arms were hanging loosely at her sides,
but the mirror image had its hands resting in a sassy pose
on its hips. Marsha knew that her own eyes weren't narrowed,
and that her mouth wasn't closed in a smirk.
"What is going on?" she murmured aloud. Her reflection
mouthed the same words, but wagged it’s from head side to
side and rolled its eyes as it did so.
"Simple, you stupid bitch. I'm fed up with you."
"Who the hell are you?"
"I'm you, of course. Or rather, I will be, once you come to
your senses and realize that everything I say is right."
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"Oh, jeez, you're so dense. Look at yourself. Look at me
here in the mirror. The flat-chested, gangly girl with the
wire brush hair."
"I'm not THAT bad looking."
"Oh, you'd rather lie to yourself? What a dumb idea. With
brilliance like that it's no wonder you got such poor grades
"Shut up. Go away."
"No," said the reflection, crossing its arms. "I won't."
"Then I don't have to listen to you." Marsha began stomping
toward the bedroom.
"Yes you do!" called the mirror image after her. "You think
you can ignore me that easily?"
Marsha put her hands over her ears. "This isn't happening,
this isn't happening," she said to herself, trying to shut
out the voice that seemed to follow her no matter how fast
she strode. She threw herself face down onto her bed with
her palms still covering her ears. Despite her attempt to
block out the sound, the taunting continued.
"You're an ugly little nobody who garners nothing but pity
from her friends. They only keep you around to make
themselves look good."
"Ahhh! Shut up!"
"No, I won't. Everything I'm saying is the truth and you
can't deny it. Face it, you've nurtured me so well that now
I'm the one who's in control."
"No!" shouted Marsha. She rolled over onto her back and sat
up, intent upon escaping the incessant, bullying voice. What
she saw stopped her cold.
Standing right in front of her was a duplicate copy of
herself. It had the same green eyes, the same body and was
wearing the exact same nightgown. The only difference was
the self-assured expression on her twin's face.
"It's me," the other woman remarked in a snide tone. "The
'you' from the mirror."
"You don't exist. You're a hallucination."
"Hallucinations don't do this, do they?" asked the twin, and
slapped Marsha across the cheek. Marsha yelped and stared in
disbelief at her identical copy.
"This is impossible."
"No. You created me, and the sooner you submit to my point
of view, the better off you'll be."
"I'll do no such thing!"
"You will, even if I have to make you!"
At this, the false Marsha leaped at the real one, grasped
her by the shoulders and tackled her down onto the bed.
Marsha fought back, struggling against her double and trying
to free her trapped legs. With a mighty heave, she shoved
the other woman to one side. The two females remained locked
together, wrestling furiously on the blankets. They yanked
and pulled at their hair, and wrapped their legs around each
other. Rocking back and forth, they churned about the small
bed for some time without either gaining an advantage. Their
faces contorted into masks of anger and pain, and their
breaths came out in ragged pants and grunts.
To Marsha, the struggle was completely real. Her muscles
strained against those of her foe, and she felt the weight
of her mirror image as it slowly forced her down into the
mattress and worked its way on top of her. She grabbed at
its arms and squeezed as hard as she could. Laughing, the
duplicate copied her maneuver and soon the two of them were
pinching large handfuls of skin and flesh between their
Marsha felt helpless as the stronger copy of her pressed her
back into the mattress, forcing its face mere inches from
her own, mashing its boobs firmly into hers, and driving one
of its knees further and further up her thighs, parting her
legs wider as it did so. Writhing furiously, Marsha rocked
the two of them back and forth amid the sheets as she felt
her body grow warmer with the heat of the battle. Her
opponent's matching nightgown was thin, and Marsha felt her
nipples stiffen as they were roughly rubbed by the other
redhead's supple tits. An uncommon feeling washed over her
as the pair's chests, stomach, and thighs drew into closer
and closer combat.
Wildly their bodies twisted and writhed in unison, until
Marsha began despairing of ever dislodging the evil
apparition that straddled and tormented her. Her skin felt
hot as the two grinded in a slow contest of strength. The
agony and fear Marsha felt threatened to overwhelm her, and
she let out a tortured groan. Emitting a gleeful yell, the
duplicate reared up, sunk her fingers into Marsha's tender
boobs, and pinched them tightly. Marsha cried out, unable to
take any more punishment. Tears welled in her eyes, and she
began sobbing uncontrollably.
Mysteriously, the weight that held her down was lifted.
Marsha rolled onto her side and curled up in a ball. There,
she fell asleep for the night.
Marsha got up like normal the next day for work. She got
dressed and grabbed a bottle of water on her way out the
door. Not once did she think about what had happened the
night before. Her body felt fine, and no memory of a wild
catfight rose up out of her subconscious to disturb her
When she got home, she made dinner and ate it while reading
a magazine that had come in the mail. She watched TV, and
didn't cast a glance at the mirror the whole time. Only once
her shows were over did she acknowledge its existence. It
was clean and dry, and she got up to cover it with a large
cloth. As she approached it, a strange feeling of dread
crawled through her nerves and made her shiver. She quickly
threw the tarp over it and went to bed.
Morning dawned, and Marsha put on a nice white blouse and a
blue skirt and went to work. During the day, she talked with
one of her friends, who asked her if she had found her gift
for Melanie. Marsha thought about the mirror, and a sudden
chill came over her body. Her friend asked if she was okay,
but Marsha shrugged the sudden shudder off as nothing
While eating dinner at her apartment, her eyes kept darting
over at the covered antique leaning against the wall in the
living room. Something about it was bothering her, but she
couldn't figure out what it was.
Determined to lay her fears to rest, she walked over and
lifted the cloth. The mirror sat underneath it, shiny and
gleaming. On impulse, she lifted the tarp higher, and then
pulled it completely off. There, standing like it should
have was her reflection. She scowled at it with disdain. It
was plain. It was ordinary.
It lifted one hand all by itself and pointed accusingly at
"There's nothing wrong with that body," the image in the
"Don't be silly. It's the same, boring one I've always had."
"Quit lying, and give it back."
"What are you talking about?"
"You may have defeated me once, but I'm not going to give up
that easily. I was stupid to ever listen to your degrading
lies. Now, let me back into my body."
"What could you possibly do? You have no hope of making this
look attractive. You couldn't do it when you had control of
it, so what makes you think you can now?"
"It's because I'm not going to listen to that attitude any
more. That's my body, and..."
"No, it's not."
"Yes, it is."
"You're just a voice in a mirror. You can't do anything.
You're just a worthless, hopeless..."
"Stop it!" screamed the reflection in the mirror. As it did
so, it reached up and tugged on its hair painfully. At the
same time, Marsha copied the move, and cried out in pain.
"Cut that out!"
"See! That proves it. You have to do what I do. I'm the true
Marsha. You're just my own bad self image inhabiting my
"Nonsense. I don't have to listen to you. I'm going to
"Let me help you get ready," the mirror image said.
"I don't need your..." Marsha stopped. The Marsha in the
mirror had started to unbutton her blouse, and she found her
fingers mimicking the reflection's movements. When she was
done, she watched helplessly as her hands removed her shoes
and then unzipped her skirt and pulled it down off of her
legs. She looked into the mirror, where her double had a
satisfied expression on its face.
"That's my body, and I'm not going to let any
self-destructive ego ruin it. Now, step aside so I can get
back to normal again."
"Nuh uh. Make me. Oh, that's right, you can't."
"I can, and I will," the mirror Marsha stated flatly. She
strode up to the surface of the glass, causing the other
Marsha to do the same.
Marsha taunted her reflection. "You're stuck in the mirror,
you stupid bitch. What do you think you're gonna do now?"
Out of the mirror, an arm lashed out and cracked her across
the face. Its fingers grabbed a hold of her curly red hair.
Marsha lurched backwards, but the hand refused to let go.
Instead, it seemed as if her maneuver had dragged the
reflection right out of the mirror.
The identical women, attired in matching bras, panties, and
nylons, stood barely a step apart and glowered at each
other. Their chests rose and fell in time with their
breathing, which was growing faster by the second. Animosity
crackled in the air around them like sparks in an electrical
"Give me my body back."
"You think you can take me? You're weaker than I am. Last
"You caught me with my guard down. I'm better than you are,
and stronger, too."
"We'll see. If it's a fight you want, then it's a fight
Lips snarling, the twin females each swung a hand at the
other. The slaps landed simultaneously, rocking their heads
back and causing them to stagger. They backed up and
massaged their injured cheeks, and then began to circle each
other on the floor of the living room.
"Oh, I'm looking forward to beating you down now," said one.
"I'm ready when you are," said the other.
As one, the pair waded together and erupted into a fierce
brawl. Hands tugged at arms and sides and faces. Fearlessly,
the two grappled hard and fast, ramming their bodies into
each other in an effort to knock their opponent down. Both
were fully committed to the battle, aware that defeat or
surrender wasn't an option either could tolerate. From one
side of the room to the other, the pair fought, lost in a
teetering tangle of half-clothed female flesh. Their legs
wrapped themselves around each other, flexing muscles
rippling under sheer hose. Supple breasts slid back and
forth, covered by simple cotton bras that did little to hide
the increasing hardness of their nipples, as their torsos
danced from side to side. After a few minutes, the speed of
the struggle abated somewhat, and the redheads settled into
a clinch. Swaying back and forth, they continued gripping
each other tightly and groaning with pain and exertion.
Finally, the tangled duo collided with the wall. Panting
heavily, they rested for a bit in a loose embrace.
Perspiration was beginning to show on their brows, and their
red, heated cheeks brushed against one another. Each felt
the uncommon feeling of warm, smooth skin rubbing her own as
they pressed together from thigh to stomach to bosom.
The trapped Marsha's fingers sought for purchase on her
foe's sweaty back. They found the back of her bra, and a
mischievous grin crept onto her lips.
"I'm going to humiliate you with your own awful body," the
false Marsha gloated.
Before her opponent could get away, she undid the clasp that
held the brassiere on and dragged it off. The topless Marsha
immediately hid her nakedness with her arms, and an angry
embarrassment spread across her face.
"What's the matter," taunted Marsha's bad self image as it
removed its own bra, "I thought there was nothing wrong with
Marsha said nothing. She backed up a few steps as her
duplicate approached menacingly. The back of her knees hit
the couch, and she involuntarily looked down to catch her
balance. When she looked back up, the other woman was on
her, grabbing her wrists and yanking her forward. The pair
wrestled for a bit and soon their arms were forced to either
side of their bodies.
"Now I have you."
The evil Marsha thrust her torso at the other, slamming her
round, jutting boobs into its opposing pair. "Unnh," the
recipient of the attack moaned. Encouraged, the first woman
began grinding her tits into the other redhead's. It wasn't
long, however, before the initial shock wore off, and both
females set to each other in a strenuous war of pressure.
They gritted their teeth and smashed their breasts again and
again into each other. Flesh smacked flesh, forcing groans
of pain from the two women even as the sensation of smooth
skin rubbing against their tender orbs drew their nipples
into taut arousal. On and on the battle went, with neither
gaining any advantage nor losing any ground.
Pausing to catch their breaths, they separated, but remained
locked together at their wrists. Their nipples stuck out
firmly at the end of their perky, supple orbs, eager to
rejoin the fight. Slowly, the two began swinging their
shoulders from side to side, tracing lines on each other's
chest with their hardened nipples and sliding their boobs
roughly against one another. Moans of agony mixed with
whimpers of pleasure in the air around the twin females as
the titfight increased in intensity. Sensitive flesh slapped
loudly together and then flew apart again and again ever
more violently. Still, neither woman showed any signs of
All of a sudden, their hands slipped, and the identical
redheads broke off their holds on each other's arms. Out of
control with lust and rage, the pair crashed together again,
gripping each other in a tight bear hug. They stood united
face to face like that for a moment, grimacing with mutual
hatred, before toppling over and landing on the floor. Never
loosening their strong embrace, the half naked women began
rolling over and over on the carpet, grunting like feral
animals. Their twin bodies writhed in a ball of female fury
for what seemed to them like forever. Their nylon-covered
legs slithered over each other and drew their crotches
closer and closer together. Their bare breasts bounced and
rubbed with their opposing pair, sending thrilling jolts of
pleasure that momentarily distracted them from the intensity
of their tumbling war. Lost in the fury of battle, neither
cared about the fact that their panties were grinding
against one another, nor about the unmistakable heat
emanating from inside of them.
They strained to the limits of their endurance, each seeking
to squeeze the other until she collapsed in defeat. The twin
redheads came to a halt in the center of the room. Lying on
their sides, they fought hard to break the resolve of the
alter ego that desired just as much to be the final victor.
Sharp grunts, long groans, and high-pitched moans emanated
from the duo as their bodies writhed slowly in an ever
increasing war of pressure. Cheek to cheek they fought for
several minutes, burning with both the fire of combat and
sensation of being tightly locked with another equally
strong female. So powerful was their will that both passed
out nearly simultaneously from exhaustion rather than give
Marsha woke up the next day tired, but calm. She gathered
her discarded clothes from the floor in the living room
where she had slept and got ready for work. While eating
breakfast, she noticed a small, nagging pain in her head.
She took some aspirin, and then headed out the door. All
through the day, Marsha found herself distracted and unable
to focus. Her headache hadn't diminished one bit. It felt as
if she had forgotten something, and her brain refused to
give up its search for what it was.
Arriving home after eating dinner out with her friends, she
went to the closet and pulled out the bright paper she had
picked out to wrap Melanie's gift with. She walked into the
living room, and stared into the mirror. Her nasty
self-reflection was there, attitude and all.
"Oh, no, you ugly hag, I'm not through with you yet."
Marsha swallowed hard. "You're the ugly one, you cunt. I
beat you last night and you'll stay there where you belong
from now on."
"Do you think that wrapping this mirror up will stop me? You
gave part of yourself to it by dropping blood into it. I can
always enter your head as long it exists."
Marsha's heart pounded in horror, realizing those words were
true. She looked around, searching for something heavy.
"Uh uh uh, you can't break the mirror. What will you give
Melanie for her present tomorrow?"
Marsha cursed her reflection for being right again. It had
taken everything she could muster to force her bad self
image back where it had come from. Unfortunately, it was
proving to be a tougher problem to get rid of it once and
for all. She bit her lip in consternation.
Her double in the mirror chuckled. "I know you too well,
don't I? Why don't you just admit the truth?"
Marsha's eyes lit up. "You think you know everything about
me, eh? If that's the case, then tell me what I'm going to
"You're going to try to wrap up this mirror and forget all
about me. Problem is, you won't be able to. I can feel your
emotions. You're disappointed in what you see in here, in
all mirrors. You'll never escape from that."
"You know something," said Marsha, drawing herself up
straight, "You're wrong. I realized something while I was in
that mirror. You come from me. I have what you are inside of
me: all of the confidence in my beliefs, and all of the will
to use my body and my abilities to get what I want. I'm not
completely meek and mousy. I just need to draw your
self-assured attitude out. That way, I'll be stronger than
you are. I'll be able to crush you so you'll never bother me
"That will never happen. You may imitate me and put on a
self-confident front when you're with other people, but deep
down inside, you're timid when it comes to your body. The
first guy who starts something with you will remind you of
how unsexy you know you are. I'll always have a way into
"Then I'll crush you there, too."
"You just try. I dare you to stand naked in front of this
Marsha paused. She gazed at her clothed reflection and tried
to imagine what it would look like without anything on. She
reached up to unbutton her top, and then hesitated.
"See? You can't even bear the thought of yourself undressed.
How on earth do you expect anyone else to find you
Marsha set her lips in a firm line, and began tearing at the
buttons on her blouse. She removed it and tossed it aside.
She continued with the rest of her clothes, trying to ignore
the continued taunting of the dark side of her ego as she
"Ugh. No definition in the arms. Slumped shoulders. Is that
a pot belly I see growing there? Such an unimpressive chest.
Spindly legs. No man's going to be turned on by that unkempt
pile of curly hair..."
When she was done, Marsha stood upright and unashamed in
front of the mirror. As if a cloud had uncovered the sun,
she saw herself as she truly was. Her fire red hair
perfectly complimented the shape of her face. Her thin,
healthy figure curved gracefully from her shoulders to her
waist and then out again to her hips. Her breasts sat round
and well proportioned on her torso. Even her tangle of pubic
hair didn't make her feel embarrassed. A smile brightened
her face, and she sighed happily.
That sentiment wasn't shared by her reflection.
"You're deluding yourself. Take off those rose-colored
"No, YOU are the delusion. I can see both you and my real
self quite clearly now, and I know they are not one and the
The double in the mirror snarled. "You won't get rid of me
that easily!" It burst out of the bronze frame with arms
outstretched and fingers hooked into claws. Marsha reacted
quickly and gave it several ringing slaps as it charged.
That didn't slow it one bit, however. It dodged past her
arms and flung itself at her in a flying tackle.
The twin redheaded women bounced off of the couch and landed
in a pile on the floor. In an instant, the pair wrapped
their nude bodies around each other and exploded in a
frenzied brawl. They tumbled about the room, grappling and
raking their bare skin with their nails. The two battled on
for a couple minutes, rolling and wrestling naked in
complete abandon. Marsha's reflection was stronger than she
had expected, though, and Marsha soon found herself at a
disadvantage. Her duplicate had managed to pin one hand to
the carpet, and its weight was preventing her hips from
moving. With a triumphant cry, it forced her other wrist
Marsha's captor gloated over her. She saw her own face break
out in a mocking smile, felt identical breasts press
themselves atop hers, and lay helpless as her duplicate's
legs parted her thighs wider and wider apart.
"Still feeling confident?" it taunted. Marsha didn't reply.
Her brain desperately searched for a way to escape.
A tingling sensation tickled her innermost thighs and
snapped her back to reality. Her foe had worked its pubic
mound onto her own, bringing their two nether lips into
intimate contact. Marsha gasped, and her double chuckled
back at her.
"Embarrassed, are we? Ashamed of our body? If you want me to
stop, all you have to do is give in." When Marsha kept
silent, her reflection began rotating its hips and teased
her labia using a slow grinding motion. Unable to restrain
herself any longer, Marsha opened her mouth and gasped. Her
duplicate kept its lewd assault, rubbing the two women’s'
pussies together ever more sensuously.
After a minute of this, during which Marsha felt a warm
feeling begin to emanate throughout her body from her crotch
and distinct moisture began to wet the folds of the entwined
female's aroused cunts, the dominant self image raised its
head and exhaled deeply. "Ready to give up? Hmm? This is too
much for you, isn't it?"
Marsha, her eyes half closed, shook her head. "No," her
voice panted, "you'll never get me to think badly about my
"We'll see about that," snorted her twin. She increased the
pressure and began swiveling her pelvis back and forth and
up and down in quick, strong thrusts. Marsha's moaning grew
in intensity. She knew she couldn't take much more of this
humiliating experience, but the alternative was infinitely
worse. She gritted her teeth, and tried not to succumb to
the mounting pleasure pulsing through her. She stiffened her
body in an effort to stem the tide of desire, and heard
herself let out a lustful groan as the two pussies brushed
against one another. With a start, Marsha realized that she
wasn't the one who had made the noise. She peeked through
barely open eyelids and noticed that the face of her
tormentor was lost in ever growing arousal. Her mind saw a
chance, and she took it.
Marsha bucked her hips and slammed her cunt, slick with
feminine juices, into her rival's. Both women let out sudden
gasps of pleasure. They opened their eyes and stared
hatefully at each other, understanding that the battle had
risen to a new level. Snarling, they set at each other,
pounding their pussies together and writhing on the floor in
a tangle of ever spiraling anger and lust. On and on the two
women fought, doing their utmost to force the other to the
point where she could no longer continue.
Becoming slick with sweat, the nude pair slithered from side
to side, using every inch of their bare flesh to ramp up the
dizzying sensations. After a much too vigorous slide,
Marsha's double found itself off balance. The real Marsha
immediately took advantage of this and rolled the two of
them over. Now on top, Marsha renewed the war between their
evenly matched cunts. She rammed them together again and
again, but found her hip muscles begin to complain. She kept
going as long as she could, but she ran out of steam and had
to stop. Her duplicate pushed her off, and the two separated
on the floor, nearly out of breath. The smell of sex was
thick in the air, and the rosy flush blooming on the
identical female's cheeks spoke of just how horny they had
Rising to their feet, they squared off again, intent upon
carrying their struggle to a final conclusion. They laced
their fingers together and became locked in a test of
strength. Grunting and groaning with exertion, the twin
redheads shuffled around the room, their glistening bodies
growing closer and closer as time went on. With a tortured "oof!”
their chests collided. Firm breasts joined the fray, sliding
and bumping and sending arcs of warm sensation through the
two women’s' systems. Their feminine globes battered each
other and their sensitive, hard nipples poked and prodded
roughly into their supple flesh. Grinding more and more
strenuously, they mashed their tits together, bringing their
feelings of pain and desire to a dangerously powerful
plateau. Lost in the conflict, their cheeks rested against
each other and slowly rubbed up and down. Marsha felt like a
cauldron of lust was bubbling inside of her, building and
building in pressure no matter how hard she tried to clamp
down the lid.
While she was concentrating, she felt something unexpected
against her lips. Her eyes shot open, and she noticed how
close her other self's face was. Rearing back, Marsha
slapped her duplicate hard. The two broke apart, but the
succulent taste of the kiss lingered.
"You whore," Marsha spat.
Her reflection snickered. "Oh, but didn't you say that
everything I am is inside of you? You're just as much of a
sleazy tramp as I am." The nude females glared at each
other. Their breasts heaved up and down on their chests.
"That may be so," Marsha replied. "But, I'm going to be the
one with the control when this is all over."
"Fat chance. I know you too well. You have a dirtier mind
than you like to admit, and that frightens you."
"Bullshit yourself," the duplicate said. It reached out fast
as lightning and gave Marsha's exposed pussy a strong stroke
with its index finger. Marsha gasped and leaped backwards,
cursing as she watched her twin chuckle and lick the juice
with a slow, teasing movement of its tongue.
"I'll show you frightened," growled Marsha, and she charged
full tilt at the devilish image that was proving more
resilient than she could have imagined. The naked women fell
in a pile on the floor and began grappling fiercely. Both
were nearing their limit, and knew that this was the final
battle during which all would be won or lost. Pouring every
ounce of will into the struggle, they fought like crazed
beasts, grabbing and pinching each other's bare skin and
twisting and yanking each other's hair.
With a great heave, Marsha rolled her bad self image down
beneath her and pinned its arms to the carpet. Its legs were
wrapped around her waist, but it had run out of energy to
squeeze her with them. The identical nude females lay like
that, catching their breath, for some time.
Finally, Marsha spoke, with her voice full of confidence. "I
AM attractive. I AM sexy. I have nothing to fear from you
Her duplicate was too tired to respond.
Marsha went on, "And to prove it, I'm going to use every bit
of what I am to defeat you for good."
At that, she smacked her wet cunt firmly against her foe's
and began a series of powerful grinds that drove both of
them insane with pleasure. Marsha watched as her other self
grimaced in a desperate effort not to surrender. She kept up
the attack, feeling her aroused clit emerge and slash
mercilessly across her opponent's labia. Moaning despite
herself, she worked her way deeper and deeper, making her
double emit higher and higher whines and whimpers.
"That's it," Marsha panted, "let yourself go."
"No, you're one who's going to climax."
"Wrong," Marsha said, her mind swimming with more intense
lust than she thought possible. Her crotch burned as if on
fire, and the sensations flooding through her from the
contact of the two redheads' clits and nipples threatened to
overwhelm her. "You're going to... give in... no choice..."
"No, I'm n... unh, oh g..." Marsha's mirror image held its
breath and twisted its head to the side. Marsha gave it
several more hard slams with her aching pussy.
"Fuck you," Marsha yelled. "Fuck you for every awful thing
you made me believe. Fuck you until you... can't... take...
it... any... more!" With each of the last six words, Marsha
assaulted her rival's clitoris as erotically as she could
with her own while the female writhing beneath her cried out
in unavoidable orgasm.
When the climax had subsided, it looked up at its conqueror
with a pleading look in its eyes. Marsha would have none of
"Oh no, you're not going to receive any reprieve from me.
I'm going to send you back where you came from." She reared
up and draped one leg over top of her prone rival. Scissored
together now, the entwined females began grinding their
crotches up and down again, with Marsha in full control. A
feeling of powerful sexuality soared through her being, like
an awakening to a new kind of strength, a new freedom to
confront those who put her down, and a new method of
dominating any woman that pushed her too far. She found that
she liked it, and liked it a lot. Her vigorous thrusts sent
her defeated twin into another bout of ecstatic moaning and
screaming, just as it filled her own body with mounting
pleasure. Pussy to pussy, she matched her sex against her
rival's until a strong shudder rolled through her. Marsha
closed her eyes and shouted out the full extent of her joy
as an orgasm more intense and more satisfying than any she'd
ever experienced rocked her body and left her entire being
dancing with exhilaration. As it did so, a weight seemed to
lift itself off of her heart and disappear, never to trouble
Marsha awoke alone some time later, fully rested and
refreshed. She stood up and cracked a sly smirk as she
admired herself in the mirror. The image she saw reflected
back at her was what she expected. Her body wasn't runway
model material, and her face would never grace the cover a
But there was nothing wrong with the cute, perky, and now
mischievously sassy figure she saw in the mirror. Nothing at