Chapter 16: Mirrored Confessions
The porcelain of the sink was cold and hard under Mark’s white-knuckled grip. His reflection held two people he barely recognized. Their faces were theirs, mostly, but everything below the neck was a waking dream, a fucked-up fantasy made flesh. His own chest, once flat and defined, now curved outward, two distinct, heavy weights that swayed with a soft, jiggling motion every time he took a sharp breath. They were real. Undeniable. Encased in the same black lace he’d woken up in, the fabric already damp at the tips with that same, leaking proof.
Josh stood behind him, his own larger, more pronounced breasts pressing into Mark’s back, his hands roaming over Mark’s lace-covered flesh as if memorizing the terrain.
“Tell me what the hypnosis commands, Josh!” Mark snarled, his voice cracking. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the stranger in the mirror, from the way his tits moved. “What the fuck is it making us do?”
Josh’s response was a wet, broken whisper against the shell of his ear. “There are lots of them… like seeds… just more… always more…” His words dissolved into a whimper, his hands squeezing, kneading, making Mark’s new flesh ache with a deep, proprietary pleasure.
Then Josh was moving, sliding down Mark’s body, his descent a surrender to an impulse neither of them controlled anymore. He fell to his knees on the cold tile, his face level with Mark’s chest. His eyes were wide, black pools of pure need.
“Stop,” Mark breathed, the word having no force, no conviction.
Josh didn’t hear him. He nuzzled into the damp lace, his hot breath seeping through the fabric. His mouth closed over one stiff, leaking nipple, and he suckled hard.
A bolt of pure, white-hot sensation ripped through Mark, so intense his legs almost buckled. It wasn’t just pleasure; it was a direct line to his cock, which hardened instantly, and to some deep, primal part of his brain that was being rewired. His head fell back, a guttural moan tearing from his throat. His hands, which had been gripping the sink for sanity, now flew to Josh’s head, fingers tangling in his hair, not to pull him away, but to hold him there, to force him to drink deeper.
“Yeah… suck it,” Mark heard himself grunt, the words filthy and alien. “Drink it all, you greedy fuck.”
Josh obeyed, sucking and lapping like a starved animal, his own hands frantically working the front of his pajama pants. He got them open, freeing his erection, and began stroking himself in a rough, frantic rhythm, his hips pumping into his fist.
The bathroom filled with the sounds of their degradation: wet, hungry sucking; ragged, desperate breaths; the slick, rhythmic sound of Josh’s hand on his cock. Mark watched it all in the mirror, a spectator to his own ruin. He saw the obscene bulge of Josh’s throat as he swallowed, saw the way his own body arched and offered itself up.
“I’m gonna cum,” Josh slurred, his mouth still latched onto Mark’s tit, the words vibrating through Mark’s flesh. “Gonna cum from your milk…”
Mark’s own orgasm was building, a tight coil of pressure in his groin that was intrinsically linked to the pulling sensation on his nipple. He was feeding him. He was making Josh cum just by letting him drink.
“Do it,” Mark commanded, his voice rough. “Cum for me. Cum from my tits.”
That was all it took. Josh’s body went rigid, a strangled cry muffled against Mark’s chest as his cock pulsed, shooting thick, hot stripes of come across the bathroom floor and onto the cabinets. The violent clenching of his orgasm made him suck even harder, and Mark felt a corresponding, deeper release within his own breast, a satisfying rush of fluid that Josh gulped down eagerly.
Mark’s climax hit him a second later, a dry, wrenching spasm that left him shuddering, his come spotting his underwear. He slumped against the sink, spent, his body humming, the lace of his bra soaked and clinging.
Josh finally pulled away, panting, a thin trickle of white milk on his chin. He looked dazed, fucked-out, his eyes soft and unfocused. He looked up at Mark, a slow, dreamy smile spreading across his face.
“They’re getting bigger,” Josh murmured, his gaze fixed on Mark’s chest. “The seeds are… sprouting.”
Mark forced himself to look in the mirror again. The damp patches on the black lace were larger. The curves beneath seemed fuller, heavier, the weight a little more pronounced. The reflection was no longer just a stranger. It was becoming a truth. A promise. And the hypnosis, a voice he could no longer fight, whispered that it was only the beginning. There was always more. Putting big tits on sissy boys