Runneth Over

::K e i j i::

Call it the immaturity of puberty if you will, but there’s nothing convincing anyone that pretending I’d lost control of my shapeshifting abilities was any better than crying wolf. But Christ, was I bored! My faces had no impact on any of them anymore; if I had to fake my flesh melting from my bones to get some attention around here, I was going to do it! No one took me seriously, and it just made matters worse that Vilpechar was such a dull, uninteresting nightmare. Rei was nowhere to be found, either—and something told me I’d done something to warrant his distance. Maybe I wasn’t in as much control of myself as I thought...

~*~*~

I’d been sitting back in my loft quarters, reading (always reading!) The Picture of Dorian Grey. Toshi entered without knocking. I just shoved my nose deeper in my book. He shrugged my attitude off and cut the niceties.

“We need to talk.”

Silence.

“Keiji.”

“...What.”

“Put that damned book down.”

“What? You dunn’ want to talk with me. You want to talk to me. I dunn’ have time to get yelled at. I get plenty of that as is.”

He growled. “We’ve all had enough of your nonsense, and it’s high time one of us tried to deal you punishment for once.”

This piqued my interest enough to give him time of day. My eyes peeking up just slightly over the top of my book, only long enough to speak, I muttered, “And what, pray tell, do you plan on doing to me? Sarina’s got us practically jailed here. There’s not much worse.”

“Actually, she’s keeping us here to protect us. The rest of the world isn’t ready to cope with our existence yet.” He paused, anxious. Because his hair wasn’t tied back, I could tell he’d been strung up for a while now today. “I was just talking with her, and we’ve come up with the perfect punishment.” I snorted. “We’re all able to be comfortable—ourselves—while we’re here at Heritage. If you were to, say, be forced into a human setting, you’d put yourself in incredible danger were you to do anything...” he groaned, “stupid.”

Such a proposition lit a fire in me, and I snapped my book shut, not caring I’d lost my place, flinging it to my nightstand and glaring at him. How dare he feel such control over me! “Are you implying that I’ve forgotten my humanity? That four years is enough to absolve that part of me?”

“Ha, if it’s one thing comic books’ve taught me, it’s that ‘all it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy.’” He took a moment to stroke his ego and wit. “Seriously, though, Keiji. We’re re-enrolling you at St. Lucy’s.”

He’d thrown my eyes wide in horror! “But—”

“I know, going back to Chénève will be a tough transition. We’re sending you home—ALONE—for a month. That should be enough of a lesson to you.”

I grew uneasy at the prospect of being around my parents again. They were so judgmental, and I doubted that being stolen from them for four years would make them any more grateful I was still alive. Still, I tried to maintain my dignity. “And what if I can handle it?”

“You think you’re so smart,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “If Mom can tolerate YOU for forty days, anyone can; and if you can manage blending back into society, we certainly can, too.”

“I’ll always be a guinea pig, a lab rat, some sick joke for others’ amusement.” The thought of going home made me queasy, and I made a face. “I cann’ believe you’d do this to me, ‘nii-san...”

“It’s for your own good. Besides, it’s not like you’ll be dealing with the paparazzi if you behave yourself. We’ve got it all planned out that you’re going to take on one of those fasçades of yours and pretend you’re an exchange student. We aren’t telling Mom, either, just so we have the best gauge of whether you’ve actually behaved yourself.”

I slumped on the side of the bed, truly fed up. “You people suck.” Standing quickly, I grabbed some clean clothes and shot out the door. “Screw this, I’ll be in the shower if you need me for something IMPORTANT.”

~*~*~

I slammed the bathroom door behind me in a rage, snarling as I chucked my change of clothes in a pile on the counter. I threw my hands up in the air in exasperation, then started pacing. “Goddamnit, I hate this! How can they do this to me!”

«That’s it, chiisai, stand up for yourself.»

I glared at my reflection’s golden eyes defiantly. “Shut up.”

«The hell I will.» He was smiling at me ever so slightly, almost mockingly. «Precious, you need me, whether or not you acknowledge I’m real.» As he leaned nearer, I turned away, in denial of what I was seeing. I did not need this right then. «You can’t let them keep controlling you like this. You’re so much better than that.»

When I whipped my head around to glare at him again, I found he’d dropped the pretense and pressed himself up prostrate against the glass, taking huge, fangly drags against it with his tongue. His black hair was long, stringy, and unkempt, his bony pallor offensive. I pursed my eyes shut, refusing to face him anymore. He began to scrape his long, sharp nails against the mirror in a terrible din, and I started tearing at my hair. “DAMNIT, STOP IT, ASSHOLE!” When I opened my eyes again, the illusion had vanished.

Even after I’d been pacing again a while, I couldn’t shake the experience I’d just had. “Goddamnit...” I shucked out of my shirt, then the rest, dumping them in the floor in front of the mirror before stepping into the shower. I was hoping vainly that it’d all just been on account of too much stress, and was counting on the shower to unravel all that.

~*~*~

I didn’t even bother getting the water to the right temperature before I diverted the faucet to the shower head, planning on adjusting it with my telekinesis should I care. I sighed, leaning back against the cold, black tiles of the shower wall, letting the water run down my body in a relaxing stream, cleansing me physically; yet while its cool caress loosened my tense muscles, it failed to relieve my stressing thoughts. What the hell had that just been?

I lathered up my hair, the sweet, sweet scent of pear stinking up the shower. As the suds gathered at my feet, I began to have an unsettling sensation rise up within me, like a giant shadow was being cast over me. Overwhelmed I sighed, slamming my head against the tile again. Thoughts of my fasçades came to me and I began to be worked up over remembering the joys of mere stream of consciousness having such a physical, profound effect upon my reality. I gently stroked the sudsy loofah over my body, smiling a little at such simple but narcissistic comfort. I laughed, feeling so twisted when the thought came to mind of turning into my brother then. “Man, thah’s gotten so boring. I did that before I was an artist.” Even so, I felt like it was more than just creepy or twisted to pleasure myself while pretending to be him—it was sick! After a minute, I realized I was touching myself at the thought of doing it and grimaced. “Still, no one’d know if I did revisit my roots...” Stupid fetishes...

I sighed and dropped the loofah, letting the water roll over me again in rivulets, to be diverted by my shifting form. Darkened and thick with water, the first to change was my hair, falling quite far down my back from chin length, turning a brassy blond from being dirty blond. Even though I myself couldn’t see it, I knew my eyes were no longer emerald green, having become pale blue. I put my hands to my face, sculpting my features to be slightly more chiseled and masculine, pulling my nose a little longer; I couldn’t help but be reminded of putty every time I did it, and the analogy never got old. As the other changes took place, my build bulked up dramatically, my shoulders broadening as I grew gradually a foot taller. My feet got a few inches longer, widening slightly. I braced myself against the front wall of the shower with one arm, wrapping the other around my swelling cock. (Even though I had no idea how endowed my brother was, it was obviously enjoyable to pretend he—consequently, I—was very hung.) “Oh, God,” I uttered, reveling in it as I felt my voice deepen so, tickled deep. I poured a little body wash on it, and started at it full-on, so hard. “He has no idea how hot he is...!”

In a sudden revelation I thought, Y’know, I could get used to wearing masks. I should look at my punishment as practice for full-on assuming a role...! I was beginning to feel like this sort of thing was perfectly acceptable. After all, lots of people role-play…

Not an instant after the notion, I felt a sharp pain in my neck and chest and stopped jerking off to catch myself with both hands. Breathing heavily, it was as though I’d been hit over the head with something metal. I bit my tongue to keep from crying out. Once I’d temporarily regained my composure, I’d lost most of my rigidity, so I opened the shower door to watch myself masturbating—I mean, my brother—to get it back up again. Christ, I’m such a pervert, I complained. But, as soon as I started up again, I realized in horror that the wraith that had been haunting my reflection stood behind me, filthy black hair matted wet to his head. And he was pissed.

“You know what your problem is?” he seethed, hissing through his fangs. “You take too quickly to change.” With that, he yanked a handful of hair, gripping it at about the nape of my neck, and slammed me up against the wall.

I tried to struggle against him. “What the hell is wrong with you!?”

“You’re what’s wrong, punk. You think you own this body? It’s just as much mine as it is yours!” With his free hand, he reached around and started feeling me up. As I squirmed, gnashing my teeth and blushing, he chuckled, thoroughly enjoying the torment. “Mine,” he uttered heatedly, throwing his head back stiffly as he began to grind against my soaking wet buttocks, starting to pump me with a tightened grip, slowly but fiercely.

“God, stop it!”

He laughed. “I’m honored you’d deify me, Precious, but that’s quite unnecessary.” He pressed his chest to my back, raising up on his toes to crane his face to the side of mine. Then, he whispered, “I had so much faith in you, but you’ve come to disappoint me just as much as the others. I have to take matters into my own hands...!” As he said this, he squeezed my head extra hard and I bawled at such abuse.

I was in denial that it felt so good to get attention from another warm body, considering the countless perverted romps in the shower I’d had on my own. Yet, I was disoriented beyond belief by all this—who the hell was this asshole? Frustration having mounted over several minutes of his molestation, I grabbed his wrists and threw him against the opposite wall, pinning his arms down and glaring at him nose to nose. “What the hell do you mean, ‘it’s just as much yours’?”

For a while, he did nothing more than laugh at me. “Ha, I’m you, Precious.” He continued giggling for a minute, grinning wide. “You know, it’s rather fitting you’ve taken on that fasçade during all this. He and I, going at it like this... it’s gorgeous.”

My face contorted in disgust. “You sick little—!” I cut off when I felt him touching me again, and I grew nauseated when it dawned on me it was a telekinetic grip. “Christ, stop it!”

He didn’t even bother responding, simply twisting my dick so I’d let go of him; while I was temporarily incapacitated, he snatched a handful of hair from the crown of my head and, using it as a handle, shoved me down on my knees. Before I even had the chance to look up at him in horror, he’d jammed his cock past my lips, laughing again.

My eyes rolled back in disgust, the water pounding down on me as he thrusted himself in and out, running his free hand along my jaw line, using his telekinesis to molest me beyond his normal reach. I could feel him probing my ass; tears of hate and joy came, and I crumbled. Was I really so fucked in the head that this was really happening? I didn’t even want to begin to think I was actually suffering at the hand of my split personality, let alone that I was suffering like THIS. A part of me knew he might stop if I were to shed the fasçade, but the rest of me...

He sang out, mockingly, practically pounding against my teeth this excited him so.

All I did was moan, squinting my eyes shut completely as he shoved a telekinetic probe up my ass. Tensing up completely, I could feel his psychic tool deep up inside, someplace painfully wonderful. Suddenly the instrument became instantly engorged and I whimpered, stiffening up in agony and delight. I realized after a minute how heatedly I was sucking and licking at him and began to cry. How could I possibly want this so badly? I shook all those thoughts out of my head and just chalked it up to how amazing it all felt.

He grabbed hold of my head with both hands at that point and forced himself along with my sucking, pumping against my tongue in delight. “God, you’re so precious, ‘Toshi…’” Laughing at having called me that, he pushed in as deep as he could go, agitating the back of my throat with pressure and salty pre-cum, and gyrated a bit, reveling in having me right where he wanted me. As I tongued the underside of his shaft, he began to jam the steadily swelling psychic probe more and more brutally, and made the force around my aching member mimic a sucking motion, tormenting me for what seemed an eternity. Still teasing me, he stopped forcing me down on his cock and turned my head a bit to look again to our likeness in the mirror. The both of us fell to hysterics at the image of him raping my brother like this, our eyes not falling from the glass as the fire of ejaculation consumed the both of us. As he clenched my hair in his hands, he pulled out and covered my face in it. I burned so deeply that even after he’d finished I longed for more. I wanted him to go on forever.

Once he’d recovered from all his glory, he discarded me like so much dirty laundry and left me slumped in the shower as he got out and grabbed a towel. The water still pummeling me, tears continued to stream down my semen-covered face.

Turned away from me, he looked down at me in the reflection as he dried his hair. “You’re horrible, you know that?” he taunted, grinning meanly. “Willingly role-playing your brother submissively just because you’re pissed at him... I didn’t know you were like that at all.”

His words made me feel so unclean all of a sudden, and I slammed the shower door shut again, hyperventilating as I tried to scrub the indiscretion from my pores, all the while forced to listen to that bastard’s cackle echo in that horrible, tiled bathroom.