The Looking Glass

I knew that I was not gay. I was sure of that, but the thing that frightened me the most was, if I wasn't gay, then why had I been so turned on being dressed like a slutty girl, and letting myself be used by all of those strange men? Pulling myself out of those dangerous thoughts, I realized that I was once again sporting a painful erection.

Ignoring my throbbing member, I climbed to my unsteady feet and made my way back to the kitchen. I'd obviously hadn't had enough wine if I was still thinking about this. A small voice in my mind tried to tell me that I might be overdoing it, but I was already far too drunk to take that voice seriously. I had a problem going on, and alcohol seemed like the perfect solution.

As I stood there, reading the labels on the bottles, I found myself slipping into those thoughts again. I knew it was wrong, those things I was feeling, but they tugged at me like a siren's call, and I didn't know why. Why did I have to feel those things? Was it something inside of me, or was it something about those things—the wig and the collar? That was what had started it all, right?

Before I knew it, I was sitting on the floor in front of the trunk that held the collar. Ignoring the toys and slutty outfits, I went straight to that thick band of black leather with its silver clasps. Carefully holding it in my hands, I turned it over, examining it. It was just a simple collar, just like before. There was nothing to see there. I'd already known that, but I had needed to double check. Still, while I could not see a thing that could tell me why it had had such an effect on me, I felt a stirring deep in the pit of my stomach, like I was standing at the edge of that cliff once again, edging closer so that I could peer over the side.

Snapping myself out of that hypnotic rush of emotions, I quickly set the collar aside and turned to the boxes of wigs, picking one at random. The flowing red hair felt soft in my hands, and it even smelled wonderful when I brought it to my nose, like flowers and something sweet.

I caught a glimpse of red flannel from the corner of my eye. It was sticking out from underneath other outfits tucked away in the trunk. It was a short catholic schoolgirl skirt. I stared at that bit of cloth while I let the red hair slip through my fingers like silk, brushing it gently across my cheek.

An idea was forming in my clouded mind. Maybe if I just tried it out...just once, I would get it out of my system. Right now, I had no clue what it would really be like. My mind had just made up those feelings. If I actually tried it out, the whole fantasy would be shattered.

The solution to my problems seemed so simple in that moment. Standing, I returned to my forgotten bottle of wine on the counter, and quickly opened it. Disregarding the glass, I took a swig straight from the bottle for a bit of courage and returned to the open trunk.

Things from there seemed to just happen, like I was a watching passenger in my own body. I pulled out the outfits from the trunk, and laid them out one by one, examining them. When I reached the schoolgirl outfit, I held on to it longer than any other as I turned the garments over in my hands. It was a short skirt, a small top with wrinkles from tie marks in the front, and a pair of white stockings. I stared at them a long time before I finally climbed to my feet and began stripping off my clothes.

I stood there naked for only a moment before I scooped up everything I needed and took it to the bed. After setting the pile down, I carefully laid out each item side by side. In front of me, my cock sat ignored, aching with a drip of precum sitting on the tip. Finally making a move, I sat on the edge of the bed and carefully began rolling a white stocking up one leg, and then the other. The snug sensation around my thighs and legs left me feeling like someone was constantly touching my skin seductively.

The top came next. I felt a bit flat chested as the fabric bulged slightly away from my chest. Ignoring that little detail, I tied the ends just below my bust, and pulled on the blonde wig with the bangs and pigtails. For this outfit, I couldn't pass on the pigtails.

I had purposely saved the skirt for last. I held it in my hands almost reverently before stepping into it and zipping up the side. That light fabric rested gently on my bare ass, and it caressed my sensitive skin with every tiny move I made. My cock still ached, tenting the front of my skirt ridiculously.

I turned to the vanity mirror for the first time since I'd started down this road, and saw my reflection. I expected to look rather ridiculous, to laugh it off, and change back into my own clothes, but I didn't. I looked hot as hell. I had long slender legs, and a narrow waist. The short skirt flared out over my ass, leaving my cute butt exposed. My stomach was smooth and flat, and as my eyes finally focused on my face, I saw the smile on my own lips.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing, and I had to reach my hand up to feel my face just to make sure that this wasn't some sort of trick. It wasn't. I watched as my hand traced my still grinning mouth. My blonde pigtails swayed as I turned my body from side to side to get a better look at myself.

It wasn't until I had turned to profile that I noticed the tip of my cock peaking out the front of my skirt. I thought that maybe seeing that might pull me out of whatever daze I was in, but it didn't. A surge of arousal flooded through me, and my cock jumped slightly before my eyes. In that moment, I was the hottest thing I had ever seen. If I could have split myself in two, I would have fucked myself in a heartbeat.

Being dressed like that...it felt good, and I didn't know if it was my level of intoxication, or some sort of inner surrender, but I didn't feel so bad about that. I watched myself in the mirror as I straightened my clothing and hair, admiring the way my cock bounced the front of my skirt when I moved. I felt so charged and aroused, but somehow, I had so far refused to touch myself. I just couldn't get enough of my reflection.

As I played with my hair, I thought about trying a different wig and glanced back to the pile of boxes by the opposite wall. Sitting on the floor next to the red wig was that black collar. Without even thinking, I retrieved it, and brought it to my neck as I returned to the mirror. It took a moment to fasten it into place, but when I was done, and I had moved my hands out of the way, I saw it sitting snuggly around my throat and any sort of resistance that I might have still clung to fled from me.

My breathing became shallow as my heart raced within my chest. The pleasure torturing my cock increased tenfold and I began to squirm, pressing my thighs together desperately. Before I could think it, my fingers were around my cock, and I was squeezing and stroking it as I squirmed in my white stockings. Standing quickly became too much, and I found myself on Kelsey's big soft bed, lying on my back as I pleasured myself, and let my hands rub all up and down my body.

I had been so worked up, I came quickly and with barely any effort. With only a moment to catch my breath, I drank more wine and continued playing with myself. I couldn't stop myself if I had wanted to. I felt so high, and euphoric as I explored my body.

*** *** ***

I woke to the morning light spilling in from the windows in front of the bed. My head hammered from my hangover as I tried to recall the previous night. Prying my eyes open, I saw the mess I had made. Both trunks were wide open, and their contents scattered across the floor. Several of the wigs were tossed about, and there was a broken wineglass decorating the kitchen floor. Groaning, I cursed myself as I sat up in the bed. Kelsey was going to kill me.

It was only as I sat up that I realized what I was wearing, and all sorts of memories from the previous night came flooding back. My fingers quickly went to my throat, and I could feel the leather collar there. I moved frantically as I tried to get it off and threw it away as soon as I was free. I couldn't believe what I had let myself do.

Pressing my head into my knees, I groaned as I cradled my head in my hands and tried to rock myself comfortingly. Memories were still filtering in, and each one was just as shocking as the one before. I refused to look, but I was sure there was a dildo somewhere in the bed with me. I could remember clearly trying to stuff as much of it in my mouth as possible while I jerked my cock. Other images just as humiliating floated through. I felt like such a slut.

Unable to sit there in that schoolgirl outfit any longer, I jumped out of the bed and began to take everything off. I had only gotten so far as removing the blond wig when my eye caught something in the window. It took a moment to focus, but when I did, I froze solid in mid crouch. There was a man standing in the window of the penthouse across the street...and he was staring right at me.

Panic paralyzed me. I had gotten so used to Kelsey not having curtains in her flat that I had stopped thinking about it altogether. How could I have let this happen? My eyes were still locked with the strange man. He was tall with dark skin, and he was wearing nice black slacks and an unbuttoned dress shirt. Somehow my eyes seemed to soak in those details, like the little smile on his lips. I could barely make out the other details on his face, but I was sure he was laughing.

Finally, feeling returned to my body, and I bolted. Snatching the pile of my discarded clothing from the night before, I dashed for the cramped bathroom and slammed the door shut behind me.

I had really messed up. I should have never let myself get anywhere near that situation. And how the hell had I forgotten about the curtains? Who else could see me? What else had I done that people had witnessed? I felt slightly sick to my stomach as I huddled there in the dark, worrying about people knowing what I had done. Everyone was going to think that I was some kind of fag.

I spent nearly an hour sitting on the cold bathroom tiles before I realized that I still hadn't changed out of the schoolgirl outfit. Getting to my feet, I quickly stripped and put on my normal clothes.

I didn't want to leave the bathroom, but I didn't really have a choice. I couldn't stay in there forever, and I'd already missed three calls on my cell phone. It was not like the guy across the street was going anywhere either, there was a nation-wide lockdown, if not global by now.

It took great effort to collect myself before opening the bathroom door. Determined to ignore the strange man, I kept my head down and found my phone on the kitchen counter. Keeping my back to the windows, I checked my missed calls and messages. Kelsey was beginning to worry about me. Sighing, I messaged her back, telling her that I was fine, and that I had just slept in. a moment later my phone rang.

It was Kelsey. I had to answer it now, she knew that I was there. What was I going to tell her, that I was too busy? I'd been bored out of my mind for over a week. That was what had gotten me into this mess in the first place.

Giving a defeated sigh, I answered. "Hello."

"Hey, Cuz. How's it going?" she asked. "I've been trying to reach you all morning."

"Yeah, I was sleeping." I lied.

"Until eleven o' clock?" she asked suspiciously. "You didn't try to drink all of that wine last night, did you?"

"Of course not." I lied again. "I just stayed up late is all."

"Really?" she asked. "What did you get up to?"

"I uh..." I fumbled for a moment. "Just watching Netflix. There was a documentary that looked interesting."

"Is it the one about the guy with a tiger?" she asked.

"Uh...no," I said. I hadn't watched that one, and the last thing I wanted was for her to start trying to talk about it with me. "How are things over there? Does it look like they will be lifting the lockdown soon?"

"Not at all," Kelsey said with a sigh. "It's actually getting worse. More businesses are being shut down. More and more restrictions on movement are being put into place. It looks like this might last for a little while. At least you have a good view though. I'm stuck staring at a parking structure right outside my window."

"Yeah..." I said, not exactly enthused about the view at the moment. "Listen, I'm getting ready to make some lunch. Can I call back later?"

"Of course. You have fun," she said. "Later, Cuz."

I set my phone down on the counter and looked around at the mess still strewn across the floor. Things had gone way to far, and I needed to put a stop to it. Picking a spot at random, I began packing things back into their boxes and trunks as neatly as I could, trying to make them appear exactly as they had before I had violated their contents. I even retrieved the outfit from the bathroom and put it back as well.

When all the boxes were closed, and both of the locks on the trucks were once again secure, I began packing them back inside the closet, making sure to use the picture I had taken as a guide. Before long, I was glad that I had the forethought to snap that photo. Each box seemed to have the perfect position among the others in order to make them all fit. The very last box slid into place at the very top, wedging snugly between the boxes below it and the sheetrock ceiling.

Since I was on a roll, I decided to continue with my cleaning adventure. I swept up the broken glass in the kitchen and kept right on going. When I finally slowed to a stop, I had swept the entire hardwood floor of the apartment and wiped down every other surface with household cleaner. All of the dishes were also done and put away, and a large bag of trash was sitting outside the front door waiting for collection. Everything was exactly as it had been when I first arrived.

Instead of going back to Netflix, I decided to change things up. I bought a couple e-books off Amazon and began reading them on my phone. Against every effort, my gaze eventually went to the window across the street, and I was grateful to see that the stranger wasn't still standing there staring at me. In fact, to my great relief, he was nowhere in sight.

There was no denying that that man had seen every embarrassing thing, but I was grateful to not have to meet his eyes. There was no telling how bad things would turn out if he decided to tell people about me. I didn't live in the biggest town back home, and if rumors of what I'd done found their way back there, everyone would know and my life would be over. Keeping a close eye on my wine intake, I let it settle over me in an effective attempt to quiet the scared voices.

With enough wine, and distraction from the books I was reading, things didn't seem to be as bad as I initially imagined. That was until I was getting ready for bed.

I decided to call it an early night. I was still a little wrecked from the drinking the night before, and I wanted to make sure that I could fall asleep while I was still teetering in that drunken sweet spot. I was just getting ready to climb underneath the covers in my boxers and a t-shirt when I saw an orange glow from a light across the street.

That strange man was sitting in a chair that he had pulled over to the window, and there was no mistaking that he was watching me. Doing my best to pretend that I hadn't seen him, and that he didn't even exist, I climbed into bed and turned off the lamp.

Through slitted eyes, I watched as he watched me. I couldn't say how much he could see with the lights off in the apartment, but his eyes seemed glued to a single spot...me. I refused to move, to give any indication that I knew he was watching. He was almost like an onyx statue as he sat there staring.

My buzz had begun to fade, and I still hadn't managed to fall asleep. I held my body still, and tried to keep even breaths as I watched back through slitted eyes. I breathed a small sigh of relief when he finally rose to his feet and walked back from the window into the darkness. It appeared that he had given up for the night. I was just about to finally relax when he returned with something in his hands.

The stranger sat once again, and it appeared that he was doing something with his hands. A moment later he pressed a piece of paper to the window. On it was written one word. "More"

I felt my cheeks flush with mortification. He wanted me to dress up again. This guy obviously knew that I was a man, and he wanted me to dress up as a slutty girl so that he could watch. My heart raced, and my stomach churned at the thought. Humiliated, I pulled the thick comforter up over my head and shut the stranger out completely. It had taken a long time to fall asleep, but eventually dreams crept up on me.

*** *** ***

I woke from another embarrassing dream. My face was buried into my pillow as I lay face down on the bed. My cock ached painfully as blood continued to surge toward it even as it lay bent awkwardly beneath me. As I rolled to the side to relieve it, I felt my hand clutching something to my chest. It seemed that I had found the pink dildo that I had forgotten about from the other night.

Dropping it quickly, I pulled one of the pillows over it just in case my watcher was at his post again. I was going to need to pull the trunks out and figure out which one it belonged in. It was not something I was looking forward to. I had put all of that stuff away for a reason after all.

When I finally deigned to crawl out of bed, I noticed the man across the street was absent, but the sign still remained, taped to the window now, a constant reminder that he wanted me to entertain him. Jerking my head quickly, I tried to put those thoughts out of my mind.

I was determined to keep myself distracted, to try and climb back to some semblance of normalcy, but I kept finding my eyes sneaking darting glances to the window. I had even sunk to turning the sofa away from the window to keep it out of my eyeline, but even out of sight, it was not out of mind. I could swear that I could feel his eyes on me—watching, waiting.

The worst part was how those invisible eyes made me feel—like a filthy object. I hated it, but every time that shame surged, so did the blood to my cock, making it stiffen painfully in my jeans, demanding that I free it and satisfy its perverted needs.

I had spent hours on Netflix, staring blankly at the screen of my phone as scenes played out that I failed to follow. My mind was filled with turmoil, blocking out everything else. How could I let something like this happen to me? And how had it become something so powerful—like a looming shadow—come to cover my mind, threatening everything that I had once believed? Even just thinking about the things I had done made my heart flutter and my breathing quicken a step. It was as if I was some sort of junkie, jonesing for a fix.

It was exhausting chasing all of those thoughts in circles. It wasn't until late evening that something shifted. I had been going over the worst-case scenarios once again—if anyone back home found out about the things I had done. What if the man across the street told someone, or if he took a picture, and someone I knew saw it?

I had gone over this many times before, but for some reason, this time, I thought about how exactly he might tell. It was only then that my mind quieted, drawing a blank. I had no clue who this person was. Hell, I barely had a vague idea of where we were—London somewhere. No one I knew back home had even left the US before. It was the first time I began to ask myself if I was overreacting.

My head slowly turned to peer through the window from over the back of the couch. That word was still taped to the window across the street, "More". The lights were on in the penthouse, but I could not see any sign of the man that lived there.