The Mirror Ritual (Supernatural)

My name’s Tony. I’m twenty years old, and sometimes I think the mirror knows me better than I know myself.

I don’t mean in some poetic, deep way. I mean it literally. That thing stares back at me every night, watching the same ritual, catching me in my rawest form. Naked, sweating, stroking my cock like I’m worshiping myself.

It didn’t start like this. At first, it was just vanity. I caught myself in the locker room mirrors at the gym, fresh from a pump, veins tight against my arms, chest glowing red. I’d linger too long, admiring the flex, turning a little to catch the cut of my shoulders, the taper of my waist. I noticed how my shorts tented when I really looked at myself, how hard I got just staring. From there, it wasn’t long before I started doing it at home — in front of my bedroom mirror, late at night, jerking off to my own reflection instead of porn.

I’m not a model or anything, but I know I’ve got something worth looking at. Brown skin, tan from hours of basketball, tight abs that catch the light when I twist. My jaw’s sharp, my lips full, and my hair — messy dark curls — always looks best right before bed. I’m about 5’11, lean but built, with a body that responds well to sweat. And my cock… well, the mirror knows it too. Thick, cut, always eager to be on display.

The thing is, porn stopped doing it for me. Those fake moans, those camera angles… nothing hit me like watching myself unravel. The way my face twists when I stroke too fast, the way my pecs flex when my arm tenses, the way precum shines when it drips down my shaft and glistens in the glass. Seeing it reflected, doubled — me watching me — that’s what gets me off now.

And tonight, Halloween night, it feels heavier. Like I’ve been leading up to something.

I set the lights low, just my lamp on, casting shadows across my room. I sit on the edge of my bed, mirror facing me like a partner, like a witness. My cock is already swelling in my palm, half-hard from the anticipation. I spit in my hand, rub it over the head, watching the shine coat it in the reflection. My breath comes louder than usual. The air feels charged, electric.

I stare at myself, locking eyes. My reflection’s pupils look darker, deeper. I stroke slowly, flexing my abs just to watch them clench in the mirror, biting my lip because I know how good it looks when I do.

But then… something’s off.

It’s subtle at first. A lag. My hand is moving, but in the glass, it’s just a fraction late. Like a livestream glitching. My brows furrow, and for a second I almost laugh it off — too much weed earlier, maybe. But then I see it: my reflection licking his lips after I already stopped. The tongue slides over his mouth a beat too slow, too deliberate, like he’s savoring something I don’t taste.

I stop stroking. My chest rises, falls. In the mirror, he doesn’t stop. His hand is still moving along his cock.

My heart slams. I lean forward slightly, testing. My real hand hovers away from my dick. In the mirror, his doesn’t. He keeps going, stroking himself, eyes burning into mine with this hunger I’ve never seen on my own face.

I whisper, “What the fuck…”

That’s when his other hand lifts.

Mine is still planted at my side, fingers gripping the sheets, but in the glass, his hand is reaching toward me, palm opening like he’s trying to touch the screen between us. My skin prickles. I lean closer, caught between terror and arousal, cock twitching against my stomach.

And then—

I feel it.

A phantom brush against my chest, warm and firm, like a hand pressing flat against me. I gasp, my whole body jerking. But there’s no one here. Just me… and him.

The reflection smiles — my smile, but twisted, hungrier. His lips part like he’s about to say something, but no sound comes through. Instead, his hand in the mirror slides down his chest, and on my skin, I feel the drag of fingers tracing over my abs, lower, lower, until they ghost just above my cock.

I moan without meaning to. My reflection’s grin widens.

That’s when I know this isn’t just jerking off anymore. This is something else. Something I’ve summoned.

And I don’t think I can stop.

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What do you think? For Halloween purposes I will also be posting this very short mini series with a supernatural theme.
I will be alternating with the broken arm, as I know some people prefer realistic stories. Also this mini series will have very few chapters because I'm just testing to see if you like it, which I hope you do.