He wandered through the mirrored corridors of the maze, gazing at himself in infinite. On each side he saw himself, strangely shattered and angled, so that here would be a pale arm, here a cheekbone brushed on one side by dirty-blond hair, there a denim-covered ankle. Flanked by an army of himself, he strode forward through this bizarre jungle of body parts. Mysterious half-glimpsed images of himself flitted away, fleeing the approaching hoard.
The jungle heat was uncomfortable, or perhaps it was the sweltering presence of the heat from so many bodies, rising from each of his doppelgangers. He reached his fingers under his shirt and pulled it off, letting it fall in a small heap onto the ground. His myriad counterparts all thought this was an excellent idea and followed suit, so fast that they all must have been thinking the same thing as he had.
The army continued forward shirtless, and as he rounded a corner, he came face to face with his own pectoral muscles, handsome and well-defined, studded with small dark nipples. He reached out to touch them, circled one finger around the perimeter of the flesh, and shivered.
He continued on, the army becoming disoriented and disorganized as he came to a crossroads in the labyrinth. From each direction he saw images of himself peering around corners, beckoning to him to choose a particular path. But for a moment, he could not. He stood still while all about him whispers encouraged and seduced. He closed his eyes, listening to them, and chose a way at random, walking towards the new corridor and into it before he opened his eyes again, so that the forest inhabitants would not get a chance to change his mind.
The walls were so straight in this corridor that the army disappeared, leaving him with only single companions to the left and right. The heat increased, baking him, until he hooked a thumb under the waistband of his jeans and tugged them down, now abandoning the lower half of his clothing as well. He stepped out of his shoes at the same time and left it all behind, walking forward in his natural skin.
He followed his two reflections onward, since they seemed to be going in the same direction anyway, and the whispers grew louder. He could tell that the things from the shadows were still there, flitting about, gone again as soon as he looked in their direction, half-images and partial reflections of himself, not whole enough to be called people, watching him and his companions with envy, waiting for them to tire before the creatures would close in and rip them into pieces, make the travelers into one of their own.
The whispers followed them as they journeyed, the creatures staying just out of sight. He kept his head facing straight, knowing that trying to see them was useless. But as he looked forward, he saw suddenly that someone was approaching from the opposite direction.
It was his own two companions; they must have gotten ahead of him and doubled back, while he had been worrying about the creatures. They came towards him now with smiles and open arms, and he noticed how strangely they were joined together—a joint in the mirror, where two panels of glass angled together like the head of an arrow at the corridor’s dead end. At this spot their wrists and segment of the edge of their arms melded together, their skin running together like wax, joining them like Siamese twins.
He walked forward to meet them, leaning his forehead against theirs as he came to the end of the path. He was tired, and the air warm. He leaned his back against one of the panels of glass, supported by one of his reflections, his arm pressed against the joint between the mirrors. In front of him he saw his own reflection, also tired, also resting. The reflection’s firm body crackled with life, as his sweat-drenched chest heaved up and down, and suddenly he was drawn to touch, reach over and trace the line of a nipple as he had before. The reflection responded in kind, reaching towards him, and arched as he arched at the touch of a hand on sensitive flesh.
The sweet surrender of the gesture was too much, too wicked, and he couldn’t help himself from reaching out for the reflection again, running fingers down across the curve of a hip, around behind him, squeezing one of the firm buttocks, smiling when his reflection gave a gasp and a shy, fuck-me smile in return.
He reached around further, trailing his fingers down the reflection’s spine, dipping into the small of his back, trailing tentatively into the crevice between his buttocks, lightly, lightly. And then suddenly from behind, he felt the same being done to him, and he knew without looking that it was his other reflection, the one behind him, tired of supporting him and aroused from watching the display in front of his eyes. He shivered, but did not turn around, submitting himself to the caresses of the second image, even as the first image submitted to him.
He withdrew his hand from the waist of his reflection for just a moment, raising it to his lips to prepare it by coating it with saliva. From the corner of his eye he saw the reflections of his other arm, still joined, passive, linked together, as solid as an anchor. And he knew he would have only the one hand to work with, because they had only the one hand each to work with.
His attention came back to the reflection in front of him, who was wantonly sliding two fingers in and out of his mouth, a small blush on his cheeks, his face innocent, as though he were unable to control it, as though the fingers were fucking his mouth of their own accord, driving in and out of him. The reflection gave a small moan of ecstasy, and he could hear himself answering it with his own appreciative moan at the sight. Behind him, his other reflection agreed.
Eager, he removed his prepared fingers from his mouth and reached once more behind his reflection, parting the soft flesh of the butt cheeks, circling once, twice, teasingly about the ring of his anus. He could hear his reflection begging, pleading for it, and he felt almost powerless to resist as he pushed his index finger tentatively inside. His reflection gasped, and so did he; at the same moment as he had penetrated his reflection, the reflection behind him had entered him with the same finger. He gasped and groaned as the person behind him wriggled the digit inside him, sliding it slowly deeper and deeper, up to the first knuckle.
Knowing the feeling now from experience, and deciding it was not enough, he began to press the second finger inside his reflection, sliding it against the first, feeling it widen the tight channel. Behind him, the second reflection entered him with a second digit as well, and he groaned as the first met the depth of the second and both began to push in deeper and deeper, until they were all the way up to the final knuckle. He gasped as the fingers were scissored inside him, and repeated the motion inside his reflection, to get the same gasp. He wriggled his fingers around inside his reflection’s passage, his second reflection now taking the cues from him once more. He first imitated fucking, sliding them in and out roughly, as the first reflection had slid them in and out of his mouth, then pausing a moment to scissor and widen, before fucking him again with them.
His reflection cried out that it was not enough, not enough, and he was somewhat inclined to agree as the two digits wiggled around inside his own anus. So he withdrew his hand altogether, eliciting a bereft little whimper from his reflection, and reached forward to part his reflection’s legs. The thighs spread quickly and willingly, cock standing achingly hard between them, as he reached forward between the open legs to spear his reflection’s anus once more, this time with three fingers. The third digit did not go in as easily, as it was dry, but it followed the other two willingly enough, and he knew the third finger’s friction was stimulating by the way the reflection groaned and reached his own hand forward in mirror image, between his lover’s legs, to fondle his balls.
He groaned himself as the reflection behind him withdrew his fingers just for a second before spearing him again with three. This felt thick and delicious, as the three fingers went deep inside him and crooked, brushing his prostate, making him yelp, before wiggling around and proceeding to fuck him as they had been earlier. He wriggled his ass pleadingly, wanting more, and noticed in front of him that his reflection’s lips were forming the word “please” over and over again.
Feeling it time to indulge his other self, he removed the fingers from his reflection’s anus—feeling bereft as his second reflection’s fingers left his own—and grabbed his reflection’s hip. He parted the legs in front of him further, encouraging the thighs to slip over and around his own, until his reflection was practically seated on his lap. He parted the reflection’s buttocks with his hand as he had done before, and placed the tip of his cock against his reflection’s entrance. He lifted the hand then to brace himself against the glass. He vaguely felt the presence of something behind him, but he was too caught up to pay attention to what it was. Instead his concentration was arrested by the sensation of his reflection slowly lowering himself onto his cock, the way the anus stretched and parted, the way the tight heat enveloped first his head, then his shaft as his reflection’s weight forced the cleaved body downward, parting him further and further until he was completely seated on his originator’s lap, speared balls-deep by the thick penis.
And then suddenly the presence from behind that he had ignored was important, as a thick cock began to push inside of him from behind, hard and fast, slamming into him from below, up and up until he felt flesh flush against his back, and he was supremely, gloriously filled with his second reflection’s cock. It was such an amazing sensation that the felt unable to move for a moment, buried deep inside his first reflection as his second reflection was buried deep inside him. He felt gloriously surrounded, skin pressing against him from both sides, flush, hot, and sticky with sweat.
His second reflection began to move, drawing out in a motion that caused him to draw out of the first reflection a bit. And then he was slammed forward so hard, so fast, that his cock was rammed inside the first reflection by sheer transfer of momentum. He was shoved forward so forcefully that his torso was pressed against his reflection’s, their nipples scraping against each other, little nubs of flesh growing stiff and aroused.
The motion from that point was fast and violent, sharp, harsh thrusts that threw them all together, burying them in each other, one fucking the other fucking the other like a chain reaction, swift strong thrusts that made him groan as they hit his prostate, and the friction that burned his passage and felt so good, opening him up so widely, sliding in and out, in and out.
And his reflection in front of him, the source of the tight heat and pressure around his cock, looking so hot as he was filled, so wanton and so very fucked, and they were so close anyway with their torsos pressed together that he couldn’t help himself and leaned his head forward and kissed him, a hot, wet, open-mouthed kiss with tongues sliding against each other in confusion, disoriented and distracted by sharper, tighter sensations, slipping and mingling saliva as they commiserated, brought together by the common sensation of being simultaneously fucked, though one of them was still fucking the other.
The heat made all their bodies sweat, made the arcing slide slipperier as they moved against each other, lubricating their motion, dripping down the joint in the mirrors where the reflections’ arms were still connected, still holding on to each other, still joined together as if from birth. And he couldn’t help himself, being between them like that, being caught between them as though thrust into the middle of something sacred, and he howled, and heard the rustling of the creatures, still watching them, wide-eyed, chittering, whispering, hearing in him the reflections of themselves, their animal selves, as his voice reflected his sensations, caught from both sides, fucking and fucked, filling and filled, and so tightly pressed against skin, skin everywhere, surrounding him, hot, slick, and tight, and they were all coming, all came at once, simultaneously, filling each other, and his first reflection’s cum splattered on the mirror in front of him and onto his stomach, making him sticky.
He slumped, pulling out of his reflection and bereft and abandoned as his second reflection pulled out from him, and together they slumped down in a triangle, backs to the joint in the mirror, panting as they all took a moment to catch their breath, joined only by their sweaty shoulders pressed against the glass.