The Room of Mirrors

Chapter 29. The Room of Mirrors

Rose Evans

As the door to the abandoned classroom creaks open, she startles and yanks her hand out of her trousers. Her heart nearly stops, and her face burns with heat. She was almost caught fiddling with her brother's dick. If he'd seen that, he'd never let her forget it. He already calls her a voyeuristic pervert. She doesn't need to hand him any more ammunition to use against her.

Then again, after all the lines they've crossed—including that unforgettable threesome—was being found out with his dick in her hand, while possessing his body, really that strange?

The sight of Harry, in her body, walking towards her causes her frantic mind to go blank. Her eyebrows climb high with the way he walks. It's not exactly unfeminine, rather, it's too 'feminine'. She's glad he has to wrestle with the long, flowing skirt; otherwise, his strutting was sure to leave her with an unflattering reputation.

Remembering why they've even bothered to change bodies, she sobers up and fixes him with a pointed look. "So… what happened? Did they actually try to… do that to me—to you?"

He drops his sashaying, along with the skirt, letting it drag against the floor. "Yes. They tried."

Her chest tightens, and her face twists in discomfort. If she had a galleon for every time someone tried to sexually assault her, she'd have two, which is not a lot, but it's strange it happened twice in the span of a few months. Compared to the stalker incident, though, this was sick on a whole another level. They were actually aiming to 'destroy' her because they thought she was some lesser being taking up too much attention. A beast, for all practicality.

It's enraging how casually they dehumanise her. Ironic, considering their own inhumane acts.

"What did you do?" she asks, fearing his answer. While she has no qualms hoping those animals harm, she'd have been happier if it didn't come from Harry's hand. Not only because he doesn't know what proportional punishment is, but also because if he's caught, there would be hell to pay.

His growing smirk doesn't bode well for her anxiety. And it's plain weird to see that cruel expression on her own face. Talking to herself is quite uncanny. Probably the eeriest experience she ever had.

"I gave them something worse than death. I gave them eternal sleep. Literally. Nothing can wake them now, and they'll be trapped in a loop of nightmares conjured by their own depraved minds. Not going to lie, I was tempted to force them to castrate each other. But eh, too messy and would create more panic than them being 'merely' asleep."

She sighs, the tension easing from her shoulders. Harry was smart, this time. While the punishment is unarguably worse than simply neutering them, it's… less graphic.

"They're basically in a coma and trapped in nightmares. Good. They deserve it." She allows herself a rare vindictive smile.

She's aware that they're basically dead, but she can't bring herself to spare them any sympathy. If Harry hadn't been made aware of their vile intentions, there's a slight chance she could've been taken out off-guard and exposed to their devious plans.

She shudders and squashes those revolting mental images.

"What's this?" He steps forward, grabbing her crotch and making her gasp, her eyes widening. "You have a boner? Don't tell me you get off to gang rape now."

She splutters angrily, "Of course not! This is because I was… I was…" Her anger is replaced by shame, and her tone goes from an offended shout to an embarrassed murmur, "...touching it before you barged in."

…

…

He chuckles and gives it a squeeze, her knees going weak. "Way better kink than that. Want me to give you a hand, pervert?"

She scowls, ready to tell him to piss off. "Yes."

Damn it.

"Let's go somewhere more private first."

She waits with a throbbing erection as he summons a key and presses the button.

A door materialises before them, and they hurry inside. By now, she's too familiar with the Evans Mansion to exclaim in awe or wonder. But when he leads her to a small room with mirrored walls, she's compelled to gaze around in fascination.

A simple double bed sits in the center… and that's it. Just the bed and the four mirrored walls. She realises even the back of the door is a mirror, seamlessly blending in and leaving them trapped with no clear entrance or exit. At least the floor and ceiling are normal: carpeted tile and an intricately designed pattern overhead. Without those, this would be too disorienting.

She stares at the numerous reflections of Harry and Rose approaching the bed, where Harry is Rose and Rose is Harry.

"What's this room?" she asks, already aware of the reason behind it, twirling around to stare at the infinite reflections. Since all the four walls are mirrored, wherever she looks, she's sucked in by a dizzying spiral of her own image, each reflection distorting and multiplying as if she's trapped in an endless maze.

"You like watching, right? So I thought this would make it even better. Now, sit on the edge of the bed. Rejoice, you're the first girl I'm going to give a handjob to. Probably the last as well." He pushes her lightly, and she stumbles when her knees collide with the bedframe.

Gulping, she sits with her thighs spread wide.

Harry, in her body, drops on the floor. She wonders if she always had that sultry grin whenever she did the same for him. Her eyes flicker to his—her—body, as he takes off the Cinderella gown. She winces when he chucks it away without a second thought. That magical dress needs to be preserved like precious gems rather than thrown around like just another mundane cloth.

Glancing down, she kind of understands why Harry loves it when she kneels before him.

The cock twitches as he looks up and holds eye contact. From her new perspective, she cannot pretend looking at his—her—buxom body doesn't make the blood rush south. The breasts spill out when he unlatches the bra, and never before has she found their bouncing so titillating. This view is definitely going to inject her with narcissism. Because, blimey, he—she—is so hot.

The long crimson hair flowing down the pale back, the ample tits hanging off like ripe fruits, and the cherry pink lips curled in smug expression, it all screams perfection.

She groans when he undoes the button and the zip of the trousers, untucking the white dress shirt. Then he peels off the bottoms and allows the cock to spring free.

A sigh of relief escapes her now that it isn't confined anymore.

She looks down at her crotch.

It juts out, a long, girthy thing, sloping upwards, at an angle, resting on his—her—head.

It twitches again, and she grips the bedsheet behind her, leaning back on her hands, as his—her—delicate fingers wrap around it. They're warm, but they feel cold compared to the heat emanating from it.

"I'll consider this a unique form of masturbation. This is definitely not gay."

She smirks at his unneeded defence. "I did not say it was."

"I'm just clarifying in advance."

Before she can tease him further, he wraps his hand firmly around the shaft and drags a slow, deliberate stroke downwards, his fist tightening just beneath the swollen glans before gliding all the way to the base.

She stiffens as the sudden pressure gathers at her core. Her entire body goes rigid. Even her abs clench and harden, her spine arching, her hips giving an instinctive thrust.

"Just sit still," he says, squeezing it, pulling a bestial pant out of her throat.

This new type of pleasure is sharp and localised. In her own body, the sensations usually ripple through her entire groin, a wave that weakens as it spreads further. But now, it's as if every nerve has converged on a single, electrified point, radiating pleasure with pinpoint precision.

The image of a churning volcano comes to mind.

It's intense and raw. And as his languid movements turn faster, it feels like a countdown to doom, a bubbling eruption. There's no slow crescendo, or a gradual buildup. The moment he amped up the pace, her brain got turned off and the pressure rushed out of the only opening.

She moans and thrusts into his fist, physically pulled by the sensation of shooting sperm.

Harry directs it away from his—her—body and shifts back to slow stroking, offering her freedom from the urgent need to keep squirming in his grasp.

As the last drop oozes out, she slumps and collapses on her back, the taut cock going soft. Her breaths come out in small audible huffs, and there's a sheen of sweat on her forehead.

…

That was something.

Though, if given the choice, she'd still prefer female orgasms. This one felt too sharp and ended too quickly for her to fully enjoy. The aftereffects also left her feeling slightly numb and morose, making her question whether sex was even that good—or if she really needed it in her life at all.

"You didn't even last twenty seconds," he says, rising to his feet, clambering over the bed, his—her—tits swaying hypnotically. "Disappointing."

Her soft, weak cock quivers as she ogles the jiggling flesh, the stiff nipples protruding from the rosy areolas, and she feels a tingle growing in her balls again.

…

…

Sex is really that good, and she absolutely needs it in her life.

"Are you going to let me fuck you?" she asks, already half-erect, mesmerised by the thought of penetrating his—her—soft, curvy body.

What would it feel like?

He blinks and scoots away from her, glaring at her as if she's gone bonkers. "Hell no."

"Come on, just one time, I'm curious," she begs, pouncing on him, pinning the hot, busty body beneath her. Without any conscious thought, she seizes the twin peaks, finally understanding boys' obsession with her chest. She squishes the well-shaped mounds, her breath struck in her throat. There's something very cathartic about it.

She grabs his arms, amazed by her newfound physical strength, and holds them over his—her—head.

The vision below her is enough to make anyone salivate.

Cascading red hair forms a halo around his—her—beautiful face. Striking green eyes peer at her through long eyelashes. Large, round breasts rise and fall with his breath. And thick thighs are spread open to welcome the intrusion.

This second erection is so damn powerful that she nearly climaxes from the mere touch of her covered vulva.

She wants to penetrate this warm hole. She needs to stick it in there and stir it.

Before she can give in to the temptation, he pulls her down for a passionate kiss. She sighs in bliss and opens her mouth for the invading tongue, resting the muscular body over the soft cushioning of the tits underneath her, grinding the cock against the burning core.

When she opens her eyes and breaks the kiss, something feels different. She realises she's no longer on top—she's at the bottom.

She's back in her own body, and Harry is looming over her with a frown.

~xXxXx~

Thank Merlin. I was almost penetrated by my bratty sister. It seems Rose can't handle the sheer arousal from a male body. When our sexes touched, all the blood must've drained south, leaving her incapable of rational thought and turning her into a rabid beast.

"I'm never trusting you with a boner again," I say, unmoved by her pout.

"Coward. Are you that scared of your own prick?" She wiggles beneath me, trying to free herself.

I keep her pinned, quirking an eyebrow. "That would be undoubtedly gay. And the thought of getting hammered by my own cock doesn't really excite me. I wonder why."

"But I want to. Please, do it for me," she implores, craning her neck and pecking on my lips sweetly, as if I'll ever take a cock up my cunt for any reason.

I shake my head as she drops back on the pillow. "Maybe I'll let you possess my body and penetrate someone else. That's the best I can do. For now, be a good girl and make up for almost scaring me to death."

Her eyes sparkle in triumph, and she grinds her pussy against my erection. "I'm all yours, little brother. Do you want me to choke myself on that magnificent cock? Or do you want me on all fours arse up? I'll do anything for you, the love of my life."

Laying it a bit thick there, aren't we?

"No, just stay here and take the pounding you deserve," I grunt, tearing off her knickers and sliding into her tight tunnel, moaning along with her, as her hot, moist walls hug my girth.

She huffs and folds her legs around my waist. I raise her butt, my fingers cupping her voluptuous cheeks, finding a purchase. Throwing her now free hands around my neck, she yanks me close and presses her mouth against mine.

I snog her and begin pistoning into her quick and rough. The wet heat of her insides seep into my cock. And the familiar taste of her mouth maddens me. Sinking my fingers in the expanse of her buns, I slam away.

With the way her arse is tilted up, I crash on her like a hammer on a nail, driving deep into her depths, bathing in her heat and pushing past her inner folds with every strike.

As my focus shifts to the rhythm of our fucking, my lips part from hers. Moans and groans burst out from her clenched jaw, her eyes closed and her nose scrunched.

I lick her chin. I kiss her cheek. I suck her lips as the madness takes over me.

The slapping of flesh echoes in the mirrored room, images of hundreds of Harrys and Roses engaged in sex surrounding us, as if stating a fundamental truth, that no matter which world we are in, we'll be together, consumed in hard and dirty sex.

Without pulling out, I roll her onto her hands and knees, feeling her pussy tighten and twist around my cock like a corkscrew.

She moans and slams back her arse, her cheeks rippling with each push.

I grab her crimson hair and tug on it, and she rises on her unsteady knees, slumping back-first against me, the back of her head on my shoulder.

With one hand in her hair and the other on her belly, I beat her bubbly rump with my hips.

Biting her neck, I whisper. "Do you think you could've kept sawing in and out and not burst in a couple of seconds. Do you even have the restraint? You didn't even last twenty seconds when I was just using my hand. Honestly, the sight of you unable to last more than a few thrusts will be so embarrassing and pathetic. Maybe your right place is this, to be screwed from behind by your little brother."

She opens her mouth, no doubt to argue. But I shove her face in the pillow and pummel her cunt with my cock.

I glance around at the numerous reflections, each displaying me as I take her.

The mirror directly in front of us offers the clearest view: Rose, slumped on her knees, her face buried in a fluffy pillow, her hair spilling over to obscure her head. Her back arches seductively, sloping upwards until it meets her rounded arse, which rocks back and forth with every thrust of my hips. Then there's me—also on my knees but upright—one hand gripping her skull and the other clutching her waist, controlling the tempo.

I can describe the expression on my face with a single phrase… drunk on pleasure.

That's not all—the mirror also reflects the one behind me, offering a view of my back. I can see the taut lines of my body, my buttocks clenched tight with each thrust as I pound into her.

This mirror room was supposed to be Rose's treat, but it has become my reward. I sweep my gaze, quickening my pace, and watch all the angles of me dominating my older sister.

Releasing my grip on her head and waist, my fingers slip between the mattress and her body, groping the best part of her—her large mammaries.

Her moan is lost in the pillow, and the only sounds reaching the mirrors are my steady, breathy groan and the smack of our colliding flesh.

She comes first, convulsing and twisting beneath me, her release slicking my already dripping cock. Then her knees give way, and she collapses onto her stomach. For the next few minutes, the only sign that she's not completely out of it are the sharp exhales she lets out whenever I hit a particularly sensitive spot.

Pinching her nipples hard enough to make them red, I gasp and bury myself deep inside her, my breakneck pace abruptly halting before giving way to a slow, languid rhythm. Once I deposit my seed on the door of her womb, I roll off her and lie on my back, the cool air brushing against my skin.

I wish the ceiling were a mirror too. I want to see my serene, satisfied expression, and the view of Rose's well-fucked cunt, swollen and glistening from the relentless pounding.

~xXxXx~

Bonus Scene

Rose Evans

She hides a smug grin, finally able to do something she's always wanted to.

"There, there, little sister. Who's the cutest? You are! Yes, you!" Rose pats Iris' head, fighting the urge to gather her in her arms and smother her adorable face with kisses. Because that might be a bit much.

Iris glares up at her, ignoring Astoria's snickers. She doesn't shove Rose's hand away, of course—Rose is in Harry's body now, after all.

"Are you alright, moron? Why're you acting like dumb cow?"

It's hard not to react, but Rose manages it. "You shouldn't talk about our great, beautiful sister like that. Bad Iris. No headpats for you."

Iris scowls and slaps her hand away. "Enough. You better stop by the hospital wing. Something's wrong with you."

Rose keeps her jovial smile even as Iris and Astoria walk away, throwing her confused looks.

Now, who to have sex with? This is the only time she's allowed to use Harry's body.