ROOM 666 - Day 3, entry 1, part 1

It is only when I stare up at the hanging mirror that I realize I must have drifted off to sleep, and this is a dream.
The mirror ripples like the surface of a lake, and there, stretched on the white sheets in all her naked glory is my old self. Small tits, mousy hair, bushy cunt. Not much glory, after all. Only the expression of the face is different. The spark in the eyes, the sexy sneer. Then the mirror flickers, its surface bulges, the shapes in it distorted. It curves and ripples and the woman that looks like I used to floats down, like through the water of a pool, and she lands softly on the mattress, my sleeping lover stretched between us.
Marie smiles at me.
Only she’s not Marie. She’s the one I have been expecting.

“Do you like my gifts?” she says.
I grin. “You are not the one that gives any gift,” I say. I heft my tits and flick my nipples with the long black talon on my thumb. “But I love what you did to me.”
Marie grins. She stands on the mattress, balancing on the points of her feet, and shakes her head. The mousy hair fall off and dissolve into dust over her body. Her grin becomes wild as her fingernails detach and fall, as the first layer of her skin cracks and crumbles like old paint, revealing the pale, flawless skin beneath.
She puts her hands behind her bald head as her tits expand into firm globes, the thick, long nipples stiffening. When she shows her hands again, long black nails grace each finger. She caresses her now bald, plump pussy. Her hips are widening, her butt bubbling up. She flexes her arms, muscles bulging on her now leaner, slender frame, and finally a shock of black hair explodes around her insouciant face.
She kneels down again, and tattoos sprout all over her skin. Her shoulder, her arm, her thigh and side, the little goat’s head by her cunt, the one, now I know, that is called a Baphomet. We are identical twins, now.
“I love this shape, too,” she says.
She runs a hand along the spine of the sleeping girl. The girl moans gently, but does not wake up. “And I love the way you turned out.”
We share a smile.
Marie leans over and her black and red lips brush mine. I bite her lower lip, grab her head, push my tongue in her mouth. She tastes of wormwood and tobacco.
She places a hand on my right jug, and pushes me back.
“You are ready,” she grins wickedly.
“Ready for what?”
Again she caresses the sleeping girl. She brings the fingers to her lips. “Ready to become my handmaid,” she says.
Something stirs inside of me. Something that burns in my belly and expands, gnawing at me from the inside. A low growl escapes my lips as I lean against her, pushing my hand between her thighs while my momentum carries us both over the edge of the mattress, and we roll on the carpet. My tits are squeezed against hers. My tongue is in her mouth again as my hand slips inside her twat, my fingers find her white-hot clit and start working it.
Surprise turns into lust in her eyes.
I let go of her mouth and take a deep breath. “I want more than that,” I say.
She is holding on to my breasts, her hips rocking as I impose my tempo on her.
“What do you want, then?” she breathes, breathing in gasps.
“I want to adore you,” I say, nibbling at her neck. “I want to be yours as nobody ever was.”
I run my tongue between her tits and then I watch her come. My fingers are sticky with her juices. They are delicious. I feel a rush, like booze, like cocaine. “I want to be your bride.”
Her eyes flare in lust. “Yes!”