[Warning: This chapter contains R18 (mature/explicit) content.
Please do not proceed if you are underage or uncomfortable with explicit themes. Reader discretion is advised.]
He hesitated at first.
Fingers trembling, Shinichi slowly slid his pants down, the fabric gliding over his soft thighs until it pooled around his ankles. His breath hitched as his boxers followed, revealing what had been straining uncomfortably beneath the fabric.
His member sprung free—thick, veiny, and painfully hard. It stood tall and proud, jutting out from his slim frame in stark contrast to his delicate figure. On a body so small, so feminine… it looked almost unreal.
Too big.
Too obscene.
Too… exciting.
His cheeks flushed deeper. "This… is mine?"
Even though he'd seen it before, the mirror changed everything. Seeing it like this—through the lens of that girlish reflection—made his heart pound with a strange, forbidden thrill.
Tentatively, he wrapped his fingers around it.
The sensation made him shiver.
Slowly, gently, he began to stroke—his hand gliding up and down the shaft, fingers tightening slightly with each pass. A quiet gasp escaped his lips. His knees weakened.
Eyes fluttering shut, he let the sensations take over.
"Ah… mmn…"
Pleasure bloomed, coiling in his stomach like a tightening spring. Each movement of his hand sent sparks racing through his body. He leaned back slightly, using the bed behind him for support as he lowered himself to the floor, his legs too shaky to stand.
The cold air against his bare skin only heightened everything—the tension, the thrill, the surreal feeling of it all.
He picked up a tissue box nearby, setting it beside him with one shaky hand while the other kept moving rhythmically between his legs. His breathing grew heavier, soft moans slipping past his lips.
In his mind, the mirror replayed over and over—the girl with ocean-blue eyes, flushed cheeks, parted lips…
That girl was him.
And the image only drove him further.
His strokes grew faster, more desperate, hips twitching with every movement. The heat building inside him felt unbearable, like something deep in his core was about to snap.
His balls throbbed, heavy with need.
"Hah… ngh…!" he panted, chest rising and falling rapidly.
Then, with a final, desperate stroke, his back arched.
His entire body tensed—
—and he came.
Thick, hot ropes of cum spurted from his tip, splashing against his stomach, his hand, and even the floor. The force of it surprised even him—shot after shot spilling out, like it had been pent up for far too long.
"Aah… haaa…"
He collapsed against the bed, breathless.
Sweat clung to his skin, and his heart raced like a drum in his chest.
For a long moment, he just sat there in silence, catching his breath, his spent member twitching slightly in his hand.
Then he looked up—at the mirror.
His reflection stared back.
Hair tousled. Skin glistening. Chest heaving. That same soft face… eyes wide in disbelief and confusion.
He didn't look like a boy who had just finished.
He looked like a girl—stunned after her first time.
"…What am I even becoming?" he whispered, voice barely audible.
The tissue box came in handy as he quietly cleaned up the mess, heart still pounding. But even as he wiped his skin and pulled his clothes back on, the memory lingered like a heat that wouldn't fade.
That girl in the mirror…
She was still there.
And she was still him.