Mirror

BY : J-FSindel
Category: +S through Z > Street Fighter
Dragon prints: 154
Disclaimer: I do not own Street Fighter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Mirrors were a pathway to the inner soul. Beauty and ugliness, mixed with overwhelming truth and need. The glass reflection was no more than facts with sadistic necessity to make the subject know their own humanity, if not limitations.

 

The mirror that Vega, the famed Spanish bullfighter and assassin, possessed was much like himself: ornate with Spanish wood carvings depicting extraordinary violence with flourishing beauty.

 

Such looks that Vega had. The bullfighter pushed his own finger around the perfect jaw of his reflection, smoothing over his cool handprints. He had been looking in the mirror for hours, a favorite pastime of his.

 

How could he not look into the mirror? How could he not admire himself, as many people around him do as well? Sure, Vega wasn’t quite the strongest or the fiercest of warriors. But he was everything that beauty could stand for.

 

Beauty was more important than brawn. Beauty was everything well and good in the world. Brawn was ugly and cheap like a horrible acne scar running rampant across a greasy face. Without beauty, there would be nothing to appreciate in this world. Without beauty, there would be no delicate fragrances or subtle admiration of colors painting the sky.

 

In his loins, his masculine organ pulsated with arousal at his own image. Desire flooded his veins like a warm bowl of soup on a cold winter day. Vega needed himself. He wanted himself as he wanted another woman.

 

There was a small shift in his legs as he maneuvered himself into a wider position. His groin had ached something fierce for hours and he needed release.

 

All of Vega’s life, he needed. He needed beauty. He needed blood. He needed vanity. He could only appreciate the few specimens but they never matched up to him. His tongue hungered for blood and sex, mixed with natural perfumes that only a woman could provide.

 

But for now, all Vega wanted was himself.

 

A quick flip of his fingers allowed his cock to be freed. His long girth eagerly dripped with pre-cum, allowing him to slowly exhale in exhausted pleasure. The long strand of thick fluid fell onto the floor, staining the carpet under his expensive soles.

 

Now he could view every line of his own body that the mirror eagerly showed him. The taunt muscles of his exquisite frame stretched over the bones and sweat. The deep blue baby eyes of his face, coupled with his firm jawline and tanned skin, made him crazy for his touch. The blonde hair, thick and luxurious, coming over his face and framing his look.

 

And his legs. Vega had to see more of his body. Slipping off his pants, the notorious fighter shed his earthly clothes for his holy body.

 

The curves of his hip down to his ankles were beautifully whipped with every line, as if God was making his own angel from dust. His perfect “V” on his pelvis with the ability to drive any woman near him crazy with lust.

 

His cock, long and magnificent as last. Free from constraints and burdens of the modern grounds! Circumsized to show greater beauty and hide nothing from the world. His perfect balls, hanging gingerly as his large, but not overly large, size was perfect.

 

Vega could impregnate a dozen women with one look and make them orgasm with delight. His looks would only be watered down through terrible genetics, though, as he needed an equal. A woman of perfect beauty.

 

The mirror never lies. It was time for completion. His cock standing at perfection attention and need. Vega needed to mentally fuck his narcissism, his beautiful self.

 

The Spaniard laid his gorgeous cock on the mirror, running the head slowly against the image of his body. His cock was on tip of the mirror image, feeling the cold glass moisten under his lustful desires.

 

In moments, Vega started to grind his thick rod against his mirror image. The breath of his hot face fogged the mirror a bit as he masturbated harder to godsend orgasm. Making love was something that Vega aimed to be good at but masturbation was his personal time.

 

“Such magnificent…” Vega grunted, rubbing his cock to completion as his semen spurted on the reflection. The thick gunk slid down the glass, staining the surface a pure white.

 

His resting manhood laid against his thigh, delighted in his narcissism. Gently cupping the organ, he ran his head against the warm fluids as he rubbed into his image. The sensitivity of his organ hurt a little but gradually, he grew back into arousal.

 

Vega could always imagine himself and get hard. Seeing himself was merely icing on the cake. Attraction at the finest hour.

 

Of course, now that he was done playing around…

 

The vain bullfighter turned around behind him, seeing a young girl tied up. Her brown hair was scraggly, running over her face as she had long since stopped weeping in fear. Her face, beautiful but red with tear streaks, as she blubbered quietly in agony.

 

Her naked body was bound beautifully in rope, tying her bosom and posterior up wonderfully like squeezed oranges. The lines of the rope caused chafing, creating a spiderweb of designs imprinted in her skin.

 

Across her chest was a long, thin blood line. The scent came back to Vega’s nose as he licked his lips in insatiable hunger. He had spirited the young girl away from her bedroom, from the safety of her boorish world that never understood her. Never gave her the attention that her beauty needed...or the blood she had to provide for her burdensome looks.

 

“Chun Li Xiang,” He purred, advancing on his prey, “Worship me.”



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