Bad Self Image

Marsha didn't like mirrors, a fact that became all too awkward for her when she went out shopping for one. The twenty-six year old redhead wandered the aisles of the local antique shop that Saturday, wondering if she could get away with buying a different gift for Melanie's house warming party. She turned over the piece of paper she held in her fingers. Marsha clucked her tongue quietly, knowing that fate had made her chose that specific slip of paper from the group that her friends had piled up on the table at their favorite bar. She resigned herself to discharging her duty as efficiently as possible. "You've got a good eye, miss. That's an excellent mirror there." Marsha turned and greeted the thin, elderly gentleman who ran the shop. "I don't see a price on it. Is it for sale?" "Oh, yes. We got it in not half an hour ago, and I was fixing to put this tag here on it right away." "How much is it?" "I hadn't decided on a price yet. It's quite ornate, obviously in the French style..." "The frame needs some polishing," Marsha said. "Yes, that it does." "How about 120 for it?" "Eh? Oh, I don't think that I could let it go for less than 150." "150 it is then. You take credit cards, right?" Marsha carefully hauled the heavy mirror into the living room of her apartment and set it against the wall. She tore off the foam wrapping that had covered it during its trip home and stepped back to examine the delicate scroll-work that surrounded the decades-old silvered glass. The weekends in her youth she had spent watching her mother wander through estate sales and second hand stores for brass, bronze, and silver antiques, memorizing the way she appraised various items, and helping her as she removed the crust and stains of neglect had paid off. This was a good deal, and it wouldn't take long to make the piece look worth several times what she had paid for it. She caught her reflection staring back at her, and that soured the smile off of her face. The aging mirror contained the image of a young woman with a slim figure, firm breasts and long, lean legs. Marsha's eyes saw something entirely different. Filling the frame was plain, average, freckled girl with poor posture, an unimpressive bust, pencil thin legs, and pale skin. Marsha's friends kept telling her that she was good looking, and that she was exaggerating the laundry list of features she always complained about. The redhead always thanked them, assuming that they were merely being polite for her sake. She couldn't bring herself to believe that they didn't see the same flaws that stood out so plainly to her every time she saw herself in the mirror. Marsha draped the wrapping back over her new purchase, and ignored it for the rest of the day. When Sunday afternoon arrived, Marsha gathered her polishing supplies, turned on the radio, and set to work. She applied the greasy compound gingerly around the many curves that arced from the frame like locks of bronze hair. The song on the radio finished, and an announcer began the weather forecast. Marsha turned her head to listen to it. As she did so, her index finger scraped against a sharp edge of the frame. She drew her hand away quickly and clutched it in pain as a thin line of blood appeared. She washed the cut in the sink and returned to clean up the mirror. Some blood had dripped on the reflective surface and run down it in a dark red line to the base of the mirror. Marsha cleaned the mess up and grimaced. Melanie's gift was becoming more of an irritation than she had imagined. "Well," Marsha reminded herself, "it'll be out of here on Thursday. I can deal with it until then." That evening while getting dressed for bed, Marsha looked down at her body. She heard a voice in her head catalog the usual litany of things she didn't like about it. She tried to shrug it out of her mind as she slipped into her nightgown. "I'm not unattractive," she thought to herself confidently. The voice didn't stay silent, however. "Yeah, sure. That's why that handsome guy passed you up the other night for that hawk-nosed blond, isn't it?" Marsha frowned, and reached for her pack of cigarettes. She lit one and went into the living room to watch television. By the time the cigarette had burned down to the end, the redhead had cycled through all of the cable channels three times but hadn't found one worth staying on. She crushed the butt out in the ashtray on the table and shut off the TV. Looking across the room, she noticed herself in the mirror. A strange expression seemed to cross her face, and Marsha walked closer to get a better look. She studied her reflection for a moment, but couldn't detect anything out of the ordinary. "Not much to look at, eh?" said a voice in her head. Marsha cast her gaze downward self-consciously. "Just check out those spindly white chicken legs," the mocking voice continued. Marsha glanced upward, catching sight of her feet in the mirror. She shifted her stance and then stopped. Something was out of place, but she couldn't pinpoint what it was. She twisted one foot, and watched as one of the feet in the mirror moved in unison with hers. Suddenly, it struck her what the problem was. The wrong foot in the mirror had moved. Marsha hurriedly examined her reflection, and noticed other differences. Her own arms were hanging loosely at her sides, but the mirror image had its hands resting in a sassy pose on its hips. Marsha knew that her own eyes weren't narrowed, and that her mouth wasn't closed in a smirk. "What is going on?" she murmured aloud. Her reflection mouthed the same words, but wagged it’s from head side to side and rolled its eyes as it did so. "Simple, you stupid bitch. I'm fed up with you." "Who the hell are you?" "I'm you, of course. Or rather, I will be, once you come to your senses and realize that everything I say is right." "Huh? What do you mean?" "Oh, jeez, you're so dense. Look at yourself. Look at me here in the mirror. The flat-chested, gangly girl with the wire brush hair." "I'm not THAT bad looking." "Oh, you'd rather lie to yourself? What a dumb idea. With brilliance like that it's no wonder you got such poor grades in school." "Shut up. Go away." "No," said the reflection, crossing its arms. "I won't." "Then I don't have to listen to you." Marsha began stomping toward the bedroom. "Yes you do!" called the mirror image after her. "You think you can ignore me that easily?" Marsha put her hands over her ears. "This isn't happening, this isn't happening," she said to herself, trying to shut out the voice that seemed to follow her no matter how fast she strode. She threw herself face down onto her bed with her palms still covering her ears. Despite her attempt to block out the sound, the taunting continued. "You're an ugly little nobody who garners nothing but pity from her friends. They only keep you around to make themselves look good." "Ahhh! Shut up!" "No, I won't. Everything I'm saying is the truth and you can't deny it. Face it, you've nurtured me so well that now I'm the one who's in control." "No!" shouted Marsha. She rolled over onto her back and sat up, intent upon escaping the incessant, bullying voice. What she saw stopped her cold. Standing right in front of her was a duplicate copy of herself. It had the same green eyes, the same body and was wearing the exact same nightgown. The only difference was the self-assured expression on her twin's face. "Who... where...?" "It's me," the other woman remarked in a snide tone. "The 'you' from the mirror." "You don't exist. You're a hallucination." "Hallucinations don't do this, do they?" asked the twin, and slapped Marsha across the cheek. Marsha yelped and stared in disbelief at her identical copy. "This is impossible." "No. You created me, and the sooner you submit to my point of view, the better off you'll be." "I'll do no such thing!" "You will, even if I have to make you!" At this, the false Marsha leaped at the real one, grasped her by the shoulders and tackled her down onto the bed. Marsha fought back, struggling against her double and trying to free her trapped legs. With a mighty heave, she shoved the other woman to one side. The two females remained locked together, wrestling furiously on the blankets. They yanked and pulled at their hair, and wrapped their legs around each other. Rocking back and forth, they churned about the small bed for some time without either gaining an advantage. Their faces contorted into masks of anger and pain, and their breaths came out in ragged pants and grunts. To Marsha, the struggle was completely real. Her muscles strained against those of her foe, and she felt the weight of her mirror image as it slowly forced her down into the mattress and worked its way on top of her. She grabbed at its arms and squeezed as hard as she could. Laughing, the duplicate copied her maneuver and soon the two of them were pinching large handfuls of skin and flesh between their fingers. Marsha felt helpless as the stronger copy of her pressed her back into the mattress, forcing its face mere inches from her own, mashing its boobs firmly into hers, and driving one of its knees further and further up her thighs, parting her legs wider as it did so. Writhing furiously, Marsha rocked the two of them back and forth amid the sheets as she felt her body grow warmer with the heat of the battle. Her opponent's matching nightgown was thin, and Marsha felt her nipples stiffen as they were roughly rubbed by the other redhead's supple tits. An uncommon feeling washed over her as the pair's chests, stomach, and thighs drew into closer and closer combat. Wildly their bodies twisted and writhed in unison, until Marsha began despairing of ever dislodging the evil apparition that straddled and tormented her. Her skin felt hot as the two grinded in a slow contest of strength. The agony and fear Marsha felt threatened to overwhelm her, and she let out a tortured groan. Emitting a gleeful yell, the duplicate reared up, sunk her fingers into Marsha's tender boobs, and pinched them tightly. Marsha cried out, unable to take any more punishment. Tears welled in her eyes, and she began sobbing uncontrollably. Mysteriously, the weight that held her down was lifted. Marsha rolled onto her side and curled up in a ball. There, she fell asleep for the night. *************** Marsha got up like normal the next day for work. She got dressed and grabbed a bottle of water on her way out the door. Not once did she think about what had happened the night before. Her body felt fine, and no memory of a wild catfight rose up out of her subconscious to disturb her morning routine. When she got home, she made dinner and ate it while reading a magazine that had come in the mail. She watched TV, and didn't cast a glance at the mirror the whole time. Only once her shows were over did she acknowledge its existence. It was clean and dry, and she got up to cover it with a large cloth. As she approached it, a strange feeling of dread crawled through her nerves and made her shiver. She quickly threw the tarp over it and went to bed. Morning dawned, and Marsha put on a nice white blouse and a blue skirt and went to work. During the day, she talked with one of her friends, who asked her if she had found her gift for Melanie. Marsha thought about the mirror, and a sudden chill came over her body. Her friend asked if she was okay, but Marsha shrugged the sudden shudder off as nothing important. While eating dinner at her apartment, her eyes kept darting over at the covered antique leaning against the wall in the living room. Something about it was bothering her, but she couldn't figure out what it was. Determined to lay her fears to rest, she walked over and lifted the cloth. The mirror sat underneath it, shiny and gleaming. On impulse, she lifted the tarp higher, and then pulled it completely off. There, standing like it should have was her reflection. She scowled at it with disdain. It was plain. It was ordinary. It lifted one hand all by itself and pointed accusingly at her. "There's nothing wrong with that body," the image in the mirror said. "Don't be silly. It's the same, boring one I've always had." "Quit lying, and give it back." "What are you talking about?" "You may have defeated me once, but I'm not going to give up that easily. I was stupid to ever listen to your degrading lies. Now, let me back into my body." "What could you possibly do? You have no hope of making this look attractive. You couldn't do it when you had control of it, so what makes you think you can now?" "It's because I'm not going to listen to that attitude any more. That's my body, and..." "No, it's not." "Yes, it is." "You're just a voice in a mirror. You can't do anything. You're just a worthless, hopeless..." "Stop it!" screamed the reflection in the mirror. As it did so, it reached up and tugged on its hair painfully. At the same time, Marsha copied the move, and cried out in pain. "Cut that out!" "See! That proves it. You have to do what I do. I'm the true Marsha. You're just my own bad self image inhabiting my body." "Nonsense. I don't have to listen to you. I'm going to sleep." "Let me help you get ready," the mirror image said. "I don't need your..." Marsha stopped. The Marsha in the mirror had started to unbutton her blouse, and she found her fingers mimicking the reflection's movements. When she was done, she watched helplessly as her hands removed her shoes and then unzipped her skirt and pulled it down off of her legs. She looked into the mirror, where her double had a satisfied expression on its face. "That's my body, and I'm not going to let any self-destructive ego ruin it. Now, step aside so I can get back to normal again." "Nuh uh. Make me. Oh, that's right, you can't." "I can, and I will," the mirror Marsha stated flatly. She strode up to the surface of the glass, causing the other Marsha to do the same. Marsha taunted her reflection. "You're stuck in the mirror, you stupid bitch. What do you think you're gonna do now?" Out of the mirror, an arm lashed out and cracked her across the face. Its fingers grabbed a hold of her curly red hair. Marsha lurched backwards, but the hand refused to let go. Instead, it seemed as if her maneuver had dragged the reflection right out of the mirror. The identical women, attired in matching bras, panties, and nylons, stood barely a step apart and glowered at each other. Their chests rose and fell in time with their breathing, which was growing faster by the second. Animosity crackled in the air around them like sparks in an electrical storm. "Give me my body back." "You think you can take me? You're weaker than I am. Last time..." "You caught me with my guard down. I'm better than you are, and stronger, too." "We'll see. If it's a fight you want, then it's a fight you'll get." Lips snarling, the twin females each swung a hand at the other. The slaps landed simultaneously, rocking their heads back and causing them to stagger. They backed up and massaged their injured cheeks, and then began to circle each other on the floor of the living room. "Oh, I'm looking forward to beating you down now," said one. "I'm ready when you are," said the other. As one, the pair waded together and erupted into a fierce brawl. Hands tugged at arms and sides and faces. Fearlessly, the two grappled hard and fast, ramming their bodies into each other in an effort to knock their opponent down. Both were fully committed to the battle, aware that defeat or surrender wasn't an option either could tolerate. From one side of the room to the other, the pair fought, lost in a teetering tangle of half-clothed female flesh. Their legs wrapped themselves around each other, flexing muscles rippling under sheer hose. Supple breasts slid back and forth, covered by simple cotton bras that did little to hide the increasing hardness of their nipples, as their torsos danced from side to side. After a few minutes, the speed of the struggle abated somewhat, and the redheads settled into a clinch. Swaying back and forth, they continued gripping each other tightly and groaning with pain and exertion. Finally, the tangled duo collided with the wall. Panting heavily, they rested for a bit in a loose embrace. Perspiration was beginning to show on their brows, and their red, heated cheeks brushed against one another. Each felt the uncommon feeling of warm, smooth skin rubbing her own as they pressed together from thigh to stomach to bosom. The trapped Marsha's fingers sought for purchase on her foe's sweaty back. They found the back of her bra, and a mischievous grin crept onto her lips. "I'm going to humiliate you with your own awful body," the false Marsha gloated. Before her opponent could get away, she undid the clasp that held the brassiere on and dragged it off. The topless Marsha immediately hid her nakedness with her arms, and an angry embarrassment spread across her face. "What's the matter," taunted Marsha's bad self image as it removed its own bra, "I thought there was nothing wrong with your body?" Marsha said nothing. She backed up a few steps as her duplicate approached menacingly. The back of her knees hit the couch, and she involuntarily looked down to catch her balance. When she looked back up, the other woman was on her, grabbing her wrists and yanking her forward. The pair wrestled for a bit and soon their arms were forced to either side of their bodies. "Now I have you." The evil Marsha thrust her torso at the other, slamming her round, jutting boobs into its opposing pair. "Unnh," the recipient of the attack moaned. Encouraged, the first woman began grinding her tits into the other redhead's. It wasn't long, however, before the initial shock wore off, and both females set to each other in a strenuous war of pressure. They gritted their teeth and smashed their breasts again and again into each other. Flesh smacked flesh, forcing groans of pain from the two women even as the sensation of smooth skin rubbing against their tender orbs drew their nipples into taut arousal. On and on the battle went, with neither gaining any advantage nor losing any ground. Pausing to catch their breaths, they separated, but remained locked together at their wrists. Their nipples stuck out firmly at the end of their perky, supple orbs, eager to rejoin the fight. Slowly, the two began swinging their shoulders from side to side, tracing lines on each other's chest with their hardened nipples and sliding their boobs roughly against one another. Moans of agony mixed with whimpers of pleasure in the air around the twin females as the titfight increased in intensity. Sensitive flesh slapped loudly together and then flew apart again and again ever more violently. Still, neither woman showed any signs of stopping. All of a sudden, their hands slipped, and the identical redheads broke off their holds on each other's arms. Out of control with lust and rage, the pair crashed together again, gripping each other in a tight bear hug. They stood united face to face like that for a moment, grimacing with mutual hatred, before toppling over and landing on the floor. Never loosening their strong embrace, the half naked women began rolling over and over on the carpet, grunting like feral animals. Their twin bodies writhed in a ball of female fury for what seemed to them like forever. Their nylon-covered legs slithered over each other and drew their crotches closer and closer together. Their bare breasts bounced and rubbed with their opposing pair, sending thrilling jolts of pleasure that momentarily distracted them from the intensity of their tumbling war. Lost in the fury of battle, neither cared about the fact that their panties were grinding against one another, nor about the unmistakable heat emanating from inside of them. They strained to the limits of their endurance, each seeking to squeeze the other until she collapsed in defeat. The twin redheads came to a halt in the center of the room. Lying on their sides, they fought hard to break the resolve of the alter ego that desired just as much to be the final victor. Sharp grunts, long groans, and high-pitched moans emanated from the duo as their bodies writhed slowly in an ever increasing war of pressure. Cheek to cheek they fought for several minutes, burning with both the fire of combat and sensation of being tightly locked with another equally strong female. So powerful was their will that both passed out nearly simultaneously from exhaustion rather than give up. *************** Marsha woke up the next day tired, but calm. She gathered her discarded clothes from the floor in the living room where she had slept and got ready for work. While eating breakfast, she noticed a small, nagging pain in her head. She took some aspirin, and then headed out the door. All through the day, Marsha found herself distracted and unable to focus. Her headache hadn't diminished one bit. It felt as if she had forgotten something, and her brain refused to give up its search for what it was. Arriving home after eating dinner out with her friends, she went to the closet and pulled out the bright paper she had picked out to wrap Melanie's gift with. She walked into the living room, and stared into the mirror. Her nasty self-reflection was there, attitude and all. "Oh, no, you ugly hag, I'm not through with you yet." Marsha swallowed hard. "You're the ugly one, you cunt. I beat you last night and you'll stay there where you belong from now on." "Do you think that wrapping this mirror up will stop me? You gave part of yourself to it by dropping blood into it. I can always enter your head as long it exists." Marsha's heart pounded in horror, realizing those words were true. She looked around, searching for something heavy. "Uh uh uh, you can't break the mirror. What will you give Melanie for her present tomorrow?" Marsha cursed her reflection for being right again. It had taken everything she could muster to force her bad self image back where it had come from. Unfortunately, it was proving to be a tougher problem to get rid of it once and for all. She bit her lip in consternation. Her double in the mirror chuckled. "I know you too well, don't I? Why don't you just admit the truth?" Marsha's eyes lit up. "You think you know everything about me, eh? If that's the case, then tell me what I'm going to do next." "You're going to try to wrap up this mirror and forget all about me. Problem is, you won't be able to. I can feel your emotions. You're disappointed in what you see in here, in all mirrors. You'll never escape from that." "You know something," said Marsha, drawing herself up straight, "You're wrong. I realized something while I was in that mirror. You come from me. I have what you are inside of me: all of the confidence in my beliefs, and all of the will to use my body and my abilities to get what I want. I'm not completely meek and mousy. I just need to draw your self-assured attitude out. That way, I'll be stronger than you are. I'll be able to crush you so you'll never bother me again!" "That will never happen. You may imitate me and put on a self-confident front when you're with other people, but deep down inside, you're timid when it comes to your body. The first guy who starts something with you will remind you of how unsexy you know you are. I'll always have a way into your mind." "Then I'll crush you there, too." "You just try. I dare you to stand naked in front of this mirror." Marsha paused. She gazed at her clothed reflection and tried to imagine what it would look like without anything on. She reached up to unbutton her top, and then hesitated. "See? You can't even bear the thought of yourself undressed. How on earth do you expect anyone else to find you attractive?" Marsha set her lips in a firm line, and began tearing at the buttons on her blouse. She removed it and tossed it aside. She continued with the rest of her clothes, trying to ignore the continued taunting of the dark side of her ego as she did so. "Ugh. No definition in the arms. Slumped shoulders. Is that a pot belly I see growing there? Such an unimpressive chest. Spindly legs. No man's going to be turned on by that unkempt pile of curly hair..." When she was done, Marsha stood upright and unashamed in front of the mirror. As if a cloud had uncovered the sun, she saw herself as she truly was. Her fire red hair perfectly complimented the shape of her face. Her thin, healthy figure curved gracefully from her shoulders to her waist and then out again to her hips. Her breasts sat round and well proportioned on her torso. Even her tangle of pubic hair didn't make her feel embarrassed. A smile brightened her face, and she sighed happily. That sentiment wasn't shared by her reflection. "You're deluding yourself. Take off those rose-colored glasses and..." "No, YOU are the delusion. I can see both you and my real self quite clearly now, and I know they are not one and the same." The double in the mirror snarled. "You won't get rid of me that easily!" It burst out of the bronze frame with arms outstretched and fingers hooked into claws. Marsha reacted quickly and gave it several ringing slaps as it charged. That didn't slow it one bit, however. It dodged past her arms and flung itself at her in a flying tackle. The twin redheaded women bounced off of the couch and landed in a pile on the floor. In an instant, the pair wrapped their nude bodies around each other and exploded in a frenzied brawl. They tumbled about the room, grappling and raking their bare skin with their nails. The two battled on for a couple minutes, rolling and wrestling naked in complete abandon. Marsha's reflection was stronger than she had expected, though, and Marsha soon found herself at a disadvantage. Her duplicate had managed to pin one hand to the carpet, and its weight was preventing her hips from moving. With a triumphant cry, it forced her other wrist down. Marsha's captor gloated over her. She saw her own face break out in a mocking smile, felt identical breasts press themselves atop hers, and lay helpless as her duplicate's legs parted her thighs wider and wider apart. "Still feeling confident?" it taunted. Marsha didn't reply. Her brain desperately searched for a way to escape. A tingling sensation tickled her innermost thighs and snapped her back to reality. Her foe had worked its pubic mound onto her own, bringing their two nether lips into intimate contact. Marsha gasped, and her double chuckled back at her. "Embarrassed, are we? Ashamed of our body? If you want me to stop, all you have to do is give in." When Marsha kept silent, her reflection began rotating its hips and teased her labia using a slow grinding motion. Unable to restrain herself any longer, Marsha opened her mouth and gasped. Her duplicate kept its lewd assault, rubbing the two women’s' pussies together ever more sensuously. After a minute of this, during which Marsha felt a warm feeling begin to emanate throughout her body from her crotch and distinct moisture began to wet the folds of the entwined female's aroused cunts, the dominant self image raised its head and exhaled deeply. "Ready to give up? Hmm? This is too much for you, isn't it?" Marsha, her eyes half closed, shook her head. "No," her voice panted, "you'll never get me to think badly about my body again." "We'll see about that," snorted her twin. She increased the pressure and began swiveling her pelvis back and forth and up and down in quick, strong thrusts. Marsha's moaning grew in intensity. She knew she couldn't take much more of this humiliating experience, but the alternative was infinitely worse. She gritted her teeth, and tried not to succumb to the mounting pleasure pulsing through her. She stiffened her body in an effort to stem the tide of desire, and heard herself let out a lustful groan as the two pussies brushed against one another. With a start, Marsha realized that she wasn't the one who had made the noise. She peeked through barely open eyelids and noticed that the face of her tormentor was lost in ever growing arousal. Her mind saw a chance, and she took it. Marsha bucked her hips and slammed her cunt, slick with feminine juices, into her rival's. Both women let out sudden gasps of pleasure. They opened their eyes and stared hatefully at each other, understanding that the battle had risen to a new level. Snarling, they set at each other, pounding their pussies together and writhing on the floor in a tangle of ever spiraling anger and lust. On and on the two women fought, doing their utmost to force the other to the point where she could no longer continue. Becoming slick with sweat, the nude pair slithered from side to side, using every inch of their bare flesh to ramp up the dizzying sensations. After a much too vigorous slide, Marsha's double found itself off balance. The real Marsha immediately took advantage of this and rolled the two of them over. Now on top, Marsha renewed the war between their evenly matched cunts. She rammed them together again and again, but found her hip muscles begin to complain. She kept going as long as she could, but she ran out of steam and had to stop. Her duplicate pushed her off, and the two separated on the floor, nearly out of breath. The smell of sex was thick in the air, and the rosy flush blooming on the identical female's cheeks spoke of just how horny they had become. Rising to their feet, they squared off again, intent upon carrying their struggle to a final conclusion. They laced their fingers together and became locked in a test of strength. Grunting and groaning with exertion, the twin redheads shuffled around the room, their glistening bodies growing closer and closer as time went on. With a tortured "oof!” their chests collided. Firm breasts joined the fray, sliding and bumping and sending arcs of warm sensation through the two women’s' systems. Their feminine globes battered each other and their sensitive, hard nipples poked and prodded roughly into their supple flesh. Grinding more and more strenuously, they mashed their tits together, bringing their feelings of pain and desire to a dangerously powerful plateau. Lost in the conflict, their cheeks rested against each other and slowly rubbed up and down. Marsha felt like a cauldron of lust was bubbling inside of her, building and building in pressure no matter how hard she tried to clamp down the lid. While she was concentrating, she felt something unexpected against her lips. Her eyes shot open, and she noticed how close her other self's face was. Rearing back, Marsha slapped her duplicate hard. The two broke apart, but the succulent taste of the kiss lingered. "You whore," Marsha spat. Her reflection snickered. "Oh, but didn't you say that everything I am is inside of you? You're just as much of a sleazy tramp as I am." The nude females glared at each other. Their breasts heaved up and down on their chests. "That may be so," Marsha replied. "But, I'm going to be the one with the control when this is all over." "Fat chance. I know you too well. You have a dirtier mind than you like to admit, and that frightens you." "Bullshit." "Bullshit yourself," the duplicate said. It reached out fast as lightning and gave Marsha's exposed pussy a strong stroke with its index finger. Marsha gasped and leaped backwards, cursing as she watched her twin chuckle and lick the juice with a slow, teasing movement of its tongue. "I'll show you frightened," growled Marsha, and she charged full tilt at the devilish image that was proving more resilient than she could have imagined. The naked women fell in a pile on the floor and began grappling fiercely. Both were nearing their limit, and knew that this was the final battle during which all would be won or lost. Pouring every ounce of will into the struggle, they fought like crazed beasts, grabbing and pinching each other's bare skin and twisting and yanking each other's hair. With a great heave, Marsha rolled her bad self image down beneath her and pinned its arms to the carpet. Its legs were wrapped around her waist, but it had run out of energy to squeeze her with them. The identical nude females lay like that, catching their breath, for some time. Finally, Marsha spoke, with her voice full of confidence. "I AM attractive. I AM sexy. I have nothing to fear from you anymore." Her duplicate was too tired to respond. Marsha went on, "And to prove it, I'm going to use every bit of what I am to defeat you for good." At that, she smacked her wet cunt firmly against her foe's and began a series of powerful grinds that drove both of them insane with pleasure. Marsha watched as her other self grimaced in a desperate effort not to surrender. She kept up the attack, feeling her aroused clit emerge and slash mercilessly across her opponent's labia. Moaning despite herself, she worked her way deeper and deeper, making her double emit higher and higher whines and whimpers. "That's it," Marsha panted, "let yourself go." "No, you're one who's going to climax." "Wrong," Marsha said, her mind swimming with more intense lust than she thought possible. Her crotch burned as if on fire, and the sensations flooding through her from the contact of the two redheads' clits and nipples threatened to overwhelm her. "You're going to... give in... no choice..." "No, I'm n... unh, oh g..." Marsha's mirror image held its breath and twisted its head to the side. Marsha gave it several more hard slams with her aching pussy. "Fuck you," Marsha yelled. "Fuck you for every awful thing you made me believe. Fuck you until you... can't... take... it... any... more!" With each of the last six words, Marsha assaulted her rival's clitoris as erotically as she could with her own while the female writhing beneath her cried out in unavoidable orgasm. When the climax had subsided, it looked up at its conqueror with a pleading look in its eyes. Marsha would have none of it. "Oh no, you're not going to receive any reprieve from me. I'm going to send you back where you came from." She reared up and draped one leg over top of her prone rival. Scissored together now, the entwined females began grinding their crotches up and down again, with Marsha in full control. A feeling of powerful sexuality soared through her being, like an awakening to a new kind of strength, a new freedom to confront those who put her down, and a new method of dominating any woman that pushed her too far. She found that she liked it, and liked it a lot. Her vigorous thrusts sent her defeated twin into another bout of ecstatic moaning and screaming, just as it filled her own body with mounting pleasure. Pussy to pussy, she matched her sex against her rival's until a strong shudder rolled through her. Marsha closed her eyes and shouted out the full extent of her joy as an orgasm more intense and more satisfying than any she'd ever experienced rocked her body and left her entire being dancing with exhilaration. As it did so, a weight seemed to lift itself off of her heart and disappear, never to trouble her again. Marsha awoke alone some time later, fully rested and refreshed. She stood up and cracked a sly smirk as she admired herself in the mirror. The image she saw reflected back at her was what she expected. Her body wasn't runway model material, and her face would never grace the cover a magazine. But there was nothing wrong with the cute, perky, and now mischievously sassy figure she saw in the mirror. Nothing at all. THE END