Writer’s Note: The following piece – and any pieces related herein – are drafts for a work in progress which I had been commissioned to write starting back in Q3 of 2016. The client is a very close friend who I had worked with on other projects before. Though largely unfinished, we have high hopes for what could become of this project in the future. This project also has some concept art courtesy of the artist Caffeccino, and I have been given permission to display that artwork here. We hope you enjoy the story.
If there is one aspect of the human heart I have yet to understand, it is the fundamental distrust we harbor toward our mirror image. In my own endeavors to ascertain the validity of superstition, I have found myself approaching an intersect of three plausible realities said to occupy the reflection. In the first, an alternate world conspires to alienate us from those we think we know. In the second, an alternate self compels us to act contrary to our convictions. Should either of these realities hold true, the afflicted would indeed find themselves in a very real danger. Even so, I find it difficult to believe in the existence of such phenomena at all.
That is, however, not the case of the final reality, one which stands alone and with a much higher plausibility than its predecessors. It is the reality of the dormant self; its manifestations are self-explanatory and self-evident, and there are times where even I am not immune to the symptoms of its delusion. In those brief moments of gazing into my reflection, I cannot help but to question whether I am truly acting in accordance with the ambitions of the woman staring back at me or acting in blind hindrance to them. What would it mean if all this time, I had inadvertently compromised my own best interests? Would that somehow make my identity false or fake?
Until I have an answer which I can feel comfortable with, it is all I can do simply to take my own observations with a grain of salt. That is what I told myself as I looked myself in the mirror once more, studying intimately the woman of my observations. Two ivory horns curved upward through her violet hair. Her bangs were sliced horizontally above a set of emerald green eyes, though longer tufts of hair cupped her cheeks on either side. A set of rose-gold scales, glimmering in the room’s low light, seemed to ebb and flow wildly along the curve of her neck, her arms and her hands, her hips and her thighs. Extending from her rear was a dragon’s tail, and sprouting just above her pussy was a rather impressive, rather aroused cock.
Being both male and female was a rarity even among demonkin. It caused my breasts to be slightly smaller than average, and my overall shape was more slender albeit more firmly toned. I was also blessed with above-average flexibility, something I had grown to enjoy. While I may have been the unwilling recipient of funny looks in mixed company, I tended to consider myself spoiled for the body – and the power – of which I had been given truly vast amounts.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the door open and a man peek his head in. “You’re expected in two minutes, Audrey.”
“I’ll be right there, thanks!” My body was garbed in a lime-green bikini with matching stockings along my legs. Draping a pink shawl around my shoulders, I walked through the door and into a large open room. The floor and walls were built from slabs of the purest marble. The furnishings, meanwhile, had all been coated in the finest silks money could buy. It was a setting more reserved for those of royalty, and I couldn’t help but to shiver at the thought of how much effort had been reserved for my sake.
The man who had spoken to me was a chronicler, and he was now seated in a chair beside a much more luxurious red throne. Across from him was an artist whose empty canvases were stacked neatly on the table to the left. I counted six in total and wondered if all of them would be put to use today. Sprawling myself seductively about the throne, I directed my gaze upward at the chronicler. “Thank you for taking the time to invite me here today. I promise I shall do my best.”
“Think nothing of it,” replied the chronicler. “Let me see here… you said your name was… Audrey, correct?”
“That is correct. My name is Audrey Songbird.”
“Could you please tell me a few things about yourself?”
“Well, I happen to be nineteen summers young, and my lineage hails from the Far East. I journeyed here to study the art of healing magic. Once I completed my training, I decided to stick around. These days, I feel more at home in these lands than anywhere else.”
“When did you first find yourself in the realm of erotic modeling, lady Songbird?”
“I believe it was… about two summers ago? It was a point in my life where I was still coming to terms with my rather unique physiology. A close friend recommended it, saying that I had a certain potential for it.”
“Well, your friend certainly wasn’t wrong,” chuckled the chronicler as he jotted down each word. His eyes would glance every so often toward my crotch and the erection which threatened to tear my bikini apart. Was he jealous of its size? Or was he somehow impressed by its apparent inability to go soft? “Would you say your decision to become a model has improved your self-perception?”
“Something like that; when I saw for myself what my body was capable of, it was like something awakened inside of me. From then on, I decided I would use my body to defy peoples’ imaginations. I have no regrets if that answers your question.”
“How do you spend your time between modeling sessions? Do you have other jobs on the side?”
“I do, actually. I serve as a channeler for Vayne’s Troupe. Every ten days, we head off to the many dungeons and wastelands of the region, thinning monster populations and ensuring strict governance over any demons who reside within our jurisdiction.”
“You happen to be a demon too, right? Wouldn’t that create something of a personal conflict for you?”
“Actually, I happen to be a demonkin or half-demon. Like I said, I grew up in an altogether different land, so I have no affiliation to the creatures who occupy this region. I follow the conditions of my employer, and I try not to ask too many questions. That is all I can really say on the matter.”
At this point, the artist snapped his fingers. “Can I have you roll onto your stomach, please?”
“Yes.” I did as I was told, my arms folded under my chest in order to accentuate my bust. The artist swapped his completed portrait with a fresh canvas and resumed painting. “Next question?”
The chronicler nodded. “I want to talk just a little more about this second lifestyle. Would you say that you prefer it to modeling or vice versa?”
“I would say each one satisfies a different need, though I seem to get yelled at far less when I’m here!” A slight giggle escaped my lips, causing my cheeks to turn a rosy pink.
The artist suddenly exclaimed “Hold!” and then doubled the speed of his brush. After a period of intense strokes, he seemed quite satisfied with his work. The second portrait was now finished. “Do you need to take a break, ma’am?”
“I can keep going. Maybe a pose that puts less emphasis on my arms?”
“Go ahead and do what’s comfortable.”
“Alright.” Placing my back against the opposite armrest, I grabbed my ankles and crossed them behind my neck. My cock broke free of its fabric, the tip sliding between my breasts and stopping just below my lips. I knew bending further would cause them to connect, rather effortlessly in fact.
However, I reasoned that now was likely not the best time for such things.
The chronicler’s jaw dropped, and even the artist found himself speechless at the sight. When the spectacle finally faded, the chronicler cleared his throat. “Where were we? Oh yes, you said something about getting yelled at more as a conjurer? Why exactly is that?”
“The art of channeling lends itself more readily to healing, and any healer would tell you that the job comes with a heightened responsibility during the thick of battle. Of course, that’s a topic worthy of its own separate discussion.”
“I think I understand. On a lighter note, do you have any experiences – be it modeling or otherwise – which stand out in recent memory?”
“I’ll never forget the time I spent modeling in the ruins of the Old Capital. The dragons who live there were all incredibly welcoming and had much to say about the site’s unique history. Long ago, humans would work side by side with the dragons to accomplish great things. There are talks of reintegration, though nothing official has been decided.”
“The dragons didn’t mind, then?” inquired the chronicler with a raised eyebrow.
“We were given a designated area to work with under the stipulation that the ruins would in no way be damaged by our presence. Beyond that, it was the same as any other venue. Some of the dragon pups watched us with curiosity, and I think that was the only time I’ve ever felt embarrassed doing what I do.”
“Right, right…” He scratched his chin a moment before re-dipping his quill. “Is there anything about modeling that you find particularly challenging?”
“Sometimes weather can make or break a session. If it’s too cold, trying to hold a pose becomes nearly impossible. Thankfully, all of the artists I’ve worked with have been especially kind when it comes to changing the schedule.” I smiled warmly toward the artist who nodded in turn. Setting down his brush, he quickly swapped the third completed portrait with another fresh canvas.
Lowering my legs, I splayed them either side of my waist and leaned forward on the throne as if imitating a common frog. Hunching my shoulders made my breasts look just a tiny bit larger in their bikini top. The chronicler smirked a bit before jotting down more notes.
“Let’s say that you’re out fulfilling your duties as a conjurer. Has anyone ever recognized you from your portraits?”
“I’ll occasionally meet people during my expeditions who know of my dual nature. When it happens, they’re usually too embarrassed to say much. I mean, what would you do if suddenly face-to-face with the one you’ve constantly thought dirty things about? Anyway, once an expedition is completed, I like to hang around for a night or two in order to sign autographs. Seeing the excited looks on everyone’s faces really underscores the reason I put myself on the world stage, so to speak.”
“Have there been any naysayers?”
“Again, it does happen. Those who fight are often revered as noble, honorable or dignified; and being what I am, I essentially contradict everything the traditional warrior is supposed to stand for. Regardless of the expectations, I am confident in my ability to perform my duty. From the time we step foot in a dungeon to the time we walk out, I am a healer first and foremost. No matter how my life changes, that personal mantra shall stay the same.”
“That is very admirable, Audrey.”
“Thank you for saying so,” I giggled.
“So, would you say that you’ve had any awkward moments during your modeling sessions?”
“Beyond the dragon pup incident, I can recall times where I’ve had to share locations with some rather important people. A few of them even belonged to royal families. Sometimes they’ll be intrigued by my body and decide to comment. Sometimes they’ll go further, asking to touch my breasts or even my cock.”
“Do you let them?”
His forwardness made me laugh so hard that I nearly fell over. “Oh gosh! If I did, they’d probably ask to marry me or something! All humor aside, my decision from day one has been that others may look but not touch. It will only change if I end up finding someone I deeply connect with.”
“Alright, then. Is there anything you wish to tell the fans who will be reading this?”
“I want to thank each and every one of them for supporting me throughout this journey. I would never have found myself without their encouragement, and I hope that they too will find themselves in much the same way.”
“With that, I think we’re good. Is the fourth portrait complete?”
“It’s just about done,” answered the artist. I brought my feet to the floor and slowly stood up, working the blood back into my limbs after holding still for so long. The artist placed the portrait aside and turned to me. “We still have two more canvasses, Audrey. Would you like to keep going?”
Shaking my head, I gave a soft bow. “Sorry, but I’m starting to feel a bit unwell. I do hope what we have will be enough.”
“No worries, ma’am. Feel free to go change and head out. The agency will contact you if they want more done.”
“Thank you very much, both of you.” With that, I rushed back to the changing area and slid the iron bolt to lock the door. That was too close! Now then… Placing some towels on the floor, I lay on my back and brought my ankles behind my neck once more.
Gripping my rear with both hands, I leaned in close and took the head of my cock into my mouth. So good! I’m close and I haven’t even fingered my slit yet!
I slid two fingers on my left hand beneath the fabric of my bikini. The faster they moved, the more drenched they became as my arousal reached a tipping point. Moaning all over my sensitive shaft, I could feel it forcing its semen up and out, painting the inside of my cheeks with its saltiness. I swallowed and swallowed, marveling as even more came out than ever before. Once it subsided, I unfolded completely and brought my left hand to my lips, licking it clean.
My cock continued to throb as if nothing happened. It seemed more than capable of going a second round and perhaps a third as well. Though more than that, I was like I could sense my magic circulating through my body every time I orgasmed. What was going on with me? I needed to get control over this, and fast.
The mere thought of someone else examining my cock made me shiver in the worst of ways, yet I knew deep down that I couldn’t fix this problem on my own. I would have no choice but to swallow my pride and ask one of my troupe members to play doctor. There was only one person out out of the group who I could trust with something like this, and it would simply be a matter of finding a time and place to bring it up with her. Surely she’d be able to find the root of the problem and have me back to my old self in no time.
…Provided she could keep a straight face long enough to carry out the examination, of course.
TO BE CONTINUED…