Left foot. Pause a beat. Right foot. Another beat. Then the left again - but Ella had to hastily shift her foot inward, closer in line with the other, changing her gate, making her hips swing ever so slightly as she walked. For a moment, she had it.

Then, Ella tripped.

It was only Natasha’s arm, draped around her shoulder, that kept her from sprawling across the ground. Ella turned to her, face already searing with the deepest, most biting shame, and was met with a crooked, shit-eating grin that made her spine shiver.

“Careful there, doll,” Natasha drawled. “Everyone’s watching. You don’t want to stand out too much from Emma, do you?”

The comment cut right through Ella, and left her trembling with its cruel force. Stand out. That was the very, very last thing she wanted. The very idea was intolerable.

She was a reflection. Her twin sister’s reflection. Nothing less, and nothing more.

But it was so hard. As the three of them walked together - Ella, her sister Emma, and Natasha, their girlfriend - imitating Emma took all of Ella’s concentration. She’d never had to focus so hard on the simple act of walking. It was strange; Ella’s body seemed so insistently wrong for all the ways Emma moved. Her limbs were ungainly, her shoulders too wide, her curves too slight. She was struggling so very much with the one-inch heels Emma had given her. It was as if Ella had never worn heels before in her life. It pained her that she was unable to handle the four-inch high heels Emma was sporting - although in some ways, that was a kindness. Thanks to that one disparity, however unforgivable, the two of them at least stood at the same height.

“No,” Ella said in a small voice, as Natasha stared expectantly at her. “O-of course not.”

More shame. Ella cringed at herself and glanced at the ground as she heard her voice crack and dip into the deep register that came so naturally to her, buzzing in her chest rather than her head, making her words come out low and flat instead of high and bright. Speaking like Emma was something else that did not come naturally.

Why? Why did Ella have to be such a flawed reflection?

“Hm.” Natasha took a moment to leer at Ella, a creepy, sadistic light in her eyes. “Let’s get a move on. We’re almost there.”

Emma nodded obediently - and because of that, so did Ella. Both of them fell in next to Natasha, pressed up to her side, and they started walking again.

Left foot. Beat. Right foot. Hips. Small steps.

It wasn’t quite true that everyone was watching, but the three of them certainly did make a distinctive trio as they walked down the street. Emma and Ella were conspicuous in their similarity; their faces, their hair, and their makeup were uncanny. Even their clothes were as close as could be, the leggings and hoodies carefully picked out from Emma’s wardrobe for that very reason. Twin sisters were always bound to attract attention, Ella supposed, especially when they seemed to be trying to erase their individuality rather than emphasize it.

But really, it was Natasha’s presence that made the three stand out so much. The tall, lanky trans woman stood between the twins, walking with a languid, bent-over posture, her arms draped over each of their shoulders in a manner that was unmistakably possessive. Ella and Emma were both pressed to her side, looking up at her with expressions of fawning eagerness on their faces that were an ill match for the creepy, leering grin on Natasha’s.

A very tall woman with two identical twins for girlfriends, walking through the mall? Now that was a spectacle.

Girlfriend. That word sat strangely with Ella. She was… Natasha’s girlfriend? That seemed to make little sense. After all, she thought Natasha was creepy. She’d come to town specifically because she wanted to make sure nothing was amiss with Emma, given her newfound lesbianism.

Ella broke step for a split second. She felt like she’d just stumbled on something important. Something that made her feel more like herself, paradoxically. Something she needed to hold on to. Yes, she’d come visiting because she’d been harboring suspicions about Emma’s new girlfriend-

There it was. The reason.

Natasha was Emma’s girlfriend. Ella was Emma’s reflection. Therefore, Natasha was Ella’s girlfriend too.

It just wouldn’t make sense otherwise.

Ella slipped back into rhythm. What was it that had seemed so important? The half-formed thought was already gone.

She was Natasha’s girlfriend - just like Emma. It was obvious. Maybe it was unfortunate, having to date a woman who set alarm bells ringing in her head. But that was just the way it had to be.

The cost of being a good, identical, twin sister.

“Here we are,” Emma announced. The three of them came to a halt, and Ella turned to look at their destination.

A women’s clothing store.

Ella shivered.

“I’m so excited!” Natasha said gleefully. Her tone of voice spoke of an unhealthy interest. “You two are going to look amazing together.”

Ella blushed again. The prospect made her uncomfortably eager.

Natasha quickly led them inside, and all three of them started moving through the rows of clothes, pausing now and then as something caught Natasha or Emma’s eye. If they agreed, they would hold up the garment to Ella, so that Emma could see how it might look on herself. It was as if she was using Ella as a mirror.

And nothing could have made Ella happier. Every time they turned to Ella, she held as still as she could, turning ever so slightly this way or that to match Emma’s posture. As uncomfortable as she felt with Natasha’s machinations, this was exactly the feeling she craved. This was the need that had been written into her being.

A mirror. A reflection. Nothing more.

Even so, as Natasha and Emma dashed from rack to rack, gushing over their finds, Ella found herself hanging back. She still showed enthusiasm - at least, whenever Emma did - but she couldn’t help noting the way that Natasha seemed to be gravitating towards dresses most of all. That filled Ella with trepidation. To her, dresses felt like foreign objects. It was as if she’d never worn one before - which was strange, for a woman, she figured, but maybe not that strange.

After all, Emma had always been something of a tomboy. She didn’t usually wear dresses. So, why would Ella have?

Now, though, she seemed keener on them. Practically every time she came upon a dress, she turned to look at Ella with an expression of overbearing glee on her face.

“Hey,” Emma said conspiratorially to Natasha, as she plucked yet another dress from the rack. “What about this one?”

It was a blue, frilly, short number that made Ella shiver just from looking at it. Natasha gave an unpleasant laugh.

“Wow, look at you,” she teased. “I didn’t think you’d be so keen to play dolly dress-up with your darling ‘sissy’ - but look at you.”

Both of them giggled at the double entendre - and Emma turned a deep red, squirming as she did.

“It’s…” she stammered. “It’s just…”

“Hot?” Natasha seized. “Pervert.”

Emma squirmed again. She looked desperately embarrassed, but the way her blush kept deepening made it clear that her embarrassment too was a source of pleasure.

“It’s not my f-fault,” Emma stammered. “You… y-you did this to m-me!”

“Oh yeah?” Natasha slipped a hand around Emma’s waist and pulled her closer. “I did all this? I put every one of those fucked-up little incest freak fantasies in your head, word by word?”

Emma pouted in protest, even as she clung tight to Natasha’s side. “That’s… well… you… you made me find it h-hot!”

“I guess I did, babe,” Natasha admitted. She was running her hand across Natasha’s hip now, and then around to cup and squeeze her ass. Emma whimpered, but clung even tighter. “And I made you find that hot, too. You love being my brainwashed, willing little accomplice. You love being my fetish-brained girlfriend so bad, you’re rubbing your hands together with glee at what we’re going to do to your ex-brother.”

“I… I…” Natasha’s words were evidently striking a deep chord within Emma. Ella’s twin was all but moaning as she tried desperately to form some kind of rebuttal, before eventually she gave up and gave in. “Fuck!” Emma panted. “I do! Fuck. It’s so fucking hot. Y-you did this to me, and I love it.”

“She came down here to rescue you.” Natasha was merciless. Her hands were all over Emma now. “Remember? But look at what you’re doing. Betraying her. Entrapping her. You’re so fucked up, Em. What kind of person does that to their own sibling?”

“A p-pervert,” Emma breathed. “I just… I just… I c-can’t help it.”

Natasha laughed at her. “You really can’t, can you?” She glanced over at Ella and cocked an eyebrow. “Wow. Look at what you’re doing to her, even now.”

Emma turned to look too, and her embarrassment faded as a look of equally twisted glee formed on her face. “Oh my god.”

Ella whimpered.

As she had been standing and watching Natasha tease Emma, both excitement and shame had been building within Ella’s body. Every time Emma blushed, she felt it. Every time Emma squirmed or shivered, she felt it. Every time Natasha touched Emma, Ella felt lighting shocks of pleasure racing through her body. Every one of Emma’s expressions was mirrored on her face, and Ella couldn’t help but partake in Emma’s perverse enjoyment of her own downfall.

She was a reflection. Nothing more than a reflection.

“Look at her,” Emma simpered. “She’s barely keeping it together!”

Both of them laughed. It was true. Though Ella had simply been reflecting the spark of Emma’s pleasure, it had lit a fire in her that would not go out. She couldn’t control herself now. Ella was swaying from side to side, her face burning, sweat forming on her brow. She felt like she might pass out or keel over. Ella had never been so embarrassed or so flustered. She wanted to disappear, and the knowledge that she couldn’t, that they were in public, sent pulses of heat racing through her.

Ella couldn’t handle it. It was too much.

It just wouldn’t stop. The pleasure. The arousal. All of it. If anything, now that Emma was focused on her, it was even more intense. Ella couldn’t help but feel a little of Emma’s sadistic glee at her plight. She could see it in Emma’s eyes, in her flushed cheeks, in the way she shifted her legs as she stared. But somehow, Ella couldn’t quite process that. It short-circuited her, sending her deeper and deeper into a spiral of humiliated arousal that grew more and more intense the longer Natasha and Emma spent staring at her.

And most of all, what she was conscious of was the tent her erection was forming in her leggings.

“God,” Natasha mocked. “What a naughty twin sister.”

Ella whimpered.

“Hey, sis.” Emma pulled the blue dress she’d been looking at off the rack and held it up to Ella’s form. “What do you think? You like this one?”

“Why ask her?” Natasha put in. “It’s not like she has an opinion anymore.”

“You never know,” Emma replied. “Maybe Ella here has something to say for herself.”

Her tone dispelled the notion that her words were anything but mean-spirited. Even though she knew she was being set up to fail, a small part of Ella wanted desperately to try and rise to the occasion. To answer Emma’s question. It was hard - it went against her ingrained urges, and the way her head was clouded with arousal made clear thinking more difficult than ever - but even so, with her cheeks still flushed, Ella opened her mouth.

“I… I… I think…” she began to say.

She wanted to tell them she didn’t like it. After all, Ella didn’t wear dresses, did she? Why would she start now? Dresses were all wrong for her. She had the sense of that, somehow.

But then it hit her. The deep, overbearing fear: what if she answered wrong? There was an absurdity to that worry; how could Ella be wrong about her own opinion? But Ella knew how. She knew what she was supposed to think. What she was supposed to be.

She hung her head. “W-what do you think, Emma?” she asked.

Natasha and Emma both howled with mocking laughter. It was fortunate that the store wasn’t busy. Ella, meanwhile, just shrank away as she waited for a reply.

“You know,” Emma mused. “I think I like it. Actually… I think I love it. I think it looks amazing.”

She was smiling sincerely enough as she spoke, and perhaps that was why, after a few moments, a sudden, sickly sense of goodwill started to blossom within Ella. She nodded eagerly.

“Yeah,” she echoed. “It’s lovely.”

She meant it. That was the worst part.

“Well, good news!” Natasha announced, after she finished tittering. “Looks like it comes in both of your sizes.” She plucked another dress off the rack and thrust it towards Emma. “Both of you, go get changed.”

Ella was torn between a deep, buried urge to assert herself, and the newfound fondness she had for the dress. For a moment, she froze - but after Emma took the dress and started heading off obediently toward the changing rooms, so, inevitably, did she.

***

In just a few minutes, after the two of them had changed and Emma had paid, the three were walking out of the store and into the street.

Only this time, Emma and Ella were both wearing blue, frilly, mid-length dresses.

Once again, Ella’s feelings were mixed. On her own, in the changing room, she’d felt clumsy and foolish for the way she’d struggled to put on the unfamiliar garment. She’d tried to judge her own appearance by looking in the mirror - but what was that worth? The mirror showed her nothing more than a reflection of a reflection.

When she’d seen Emma, though, all of that had evaporated. All her worry and anxiety had been vanquished by an overwhelming feeling of affirmation.

They were the same. They were identical. Now more than ever. It was perfect.

The glow of that feeling had kept her warm ever since, although now they were back on the street, it was starting to fade a little. Ella couldn’t help but notice all the unfamiliar sensations that went with wearing a dress, like how the slightest gust of wind made the skirt billow and blow. It made her freshly realize that she really, truly, hadn’t ever worn a dress before.

Wasn’t that strange, for a girl?

Natasha and Emma, meanwhile were all over her - Natasha with her detached, sadistic, power-tripping bemusement, and Emma with her lurid, half-embarrassed, fetishistic glee. They seemed to adore how Ella looked in the dress.

“Where should we go next?” Natasha was asking. “Maybe a hair salon? Her hair looks OK already, but it could be better.”

“Yeah,” Emma agreed. Her cheeks were still stained with pink. “Yeah.”

“Or…” Natasha added slowly. “A tattoo parlor. I just love the idea of the two of you with some matching ink.”

Emma’s breath caught, and she almost moaned. Ella blushed too.

Then, an unexpected voice caught all of their attention.

“Hey, Em! Is that you?”

As one, Emma and Ella froze and turned to look, and Ella saw a woman - oddly familiar, somehow - rushing toward them.

“Um, hey,” Emma replied slowly. She looked like a deer in headlights.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it’s you!” the other woman gushed. “I was just across the street, and I saw you, and I just had to come and say ‘hi’! And are these your…”

She looked at Natasha only briefly, but when the woman looked at Ella, her eyes widened in palpable surprise.

“You two are…” she said cautiously. “Is that… Ethan, is that you?”

Ethan. The name struck Ella like a thunderbolt.

“I… I…” Ella stammered, voice slipping uncertainly between higher and lower registers. She glanced at Natasha and Emma for support, but they both looked equally taken aback by the unplanned interruption. “Um…”

“Remember me? Abigail?” the woman - Abigail - prompted. “I work with your sister. We met last year, at a party.”

“R-right,” Ella replied, although he didn’t remember at all. Everything before the previous night was still so blurred. She had a lot of questions, but one of them stood head and shoulders above the rest:

Why had Abigail called her Ethan?

“We had a nice chat, that’s all,” Abigail supplied helpfully. “But you look… uh…”

She must have seen the dress before, but now, as she looked Ella up and down, it was like gears were turning in her head. By the time she spoke again, she was blushing.

“O-oh, I’m sorry,” Abigail blurted out. “That’s… I feel so silly! I could have sworn Emma said Ethan was her only sibling, I had no idea she had a twin sister too.”

Ella froze. Slowly, an awkward, uneven, dumb grin started to appear on her face. She couldn’t help it. She wanted to ask about this Ethan so badly - she didn’t have a brother, did she? - but the sheer, deafening affirmation of being treated like Emma’s twin was sweeping through her. It stirred her body. It soothed her soul.

She was such a good reflection.

Emma’s twin. That was right. Wasn’t it?

Wasn’t it?

“Oh my god, I’m so embarrassed!” Abigail laughed self-consciously and started turning away. “Let me get out of her and lick my wounds, and leave you to whatever. I’ll see you on Monday, Em!”

She waved, and so did Emma - and then she was gone. Ella was left with Natasha and Emma once more.

After a moment, the tension broke, and the other woman started giggling like naughty teenagers.

“Oh my god!” Natasha wheezed. “She really… I mean Ella really does look… but wow. Holy shit.”

“Y-yeah.” Emma’s laughter was tainted by plain arousal. “G-god. I just have a sister now. God. Fuck. You really… you turned him into… holy shit. Holy shit!”

It wasn’t the first time today they had made comments like that. Previously, Ella had been content to brush it off, or even vicariously share in Emma’s amusement. Not now, though. Now, that seemed more absurd than ever. Like laughing at an in-joke she clearly didn’t get. Instead, their comments struck an unnatural chord within Ella.

Ethan. It was that name. Ethan. It was still bothering her.

That realization prompted another: something was going on here. Something was wrong. Something had been done to her. Ella saw herself with fresh eyes, just for a moment, and realized how twisted it all was. The way she couldn’t think. The dress. The way she was helpless to do anything but mimic Emma.

She was in danger. She needed to figure this out.

“I need…” Ella muttered, staggering away from her sister and her girlfriend. “Gotta… clear my head.”

Before they could reply, she bolted towards a nearby alley. Somewhere out of sight. Somewhere private. That was what she needed. Once she was around a corner and alone, hidden from the street, Ella slumped against the nearest wall.

What was happening to her?

Lost memories were starting to return to her, slotting back into gaps Ella hadn’t even known were there. She’d come here to rescue Emma from Natasha. She remembered that clearly now. How had she gotten so derailed she was letting them pick out her clothes? And Natasha! How had Ella’s head gotten so messed up that she’d thought of that awful person as her girlfriend? Now the absurdity of it was striking her, she was horrified she hadn’t noticed it sooner.

And most of all, what was coming back to her was a picture of herself as a very, very different kind of person. Different clothes. Different attitude. Independent. Masculine.

Ethan.

“Ella!” came Natasha’s teasing, sing-song voice. “Where did you get off to?”

She was already getting closer. Ella was struck with the sudden sense that she was prey, and that Natasha - and her sister, too - were the hunters. She wanted to flee, but the alley led nowhere, and besides, she was in no state to run or fight. Her head was spinning dangerously. It was all she could do to keep herself upright.

“C’mon, Ella,” Natasha called out. “What are you trying to do, running off by yourself? Where’s a reflection supposed to go, without the real thing?”

Ella had to clench a hand into a fist to suppress the helpless pining the taunt awoke in her. She really felt it: that tidal pull, drawing her back to Emma’s side where she belonged.

But - no. No! She didn’t belong like that. She was something else. Someone else. A person of her own.

Ethan. Right?

The image of who she used to be was still taking form in Ella’s head as Natasha and Emma rounded the corner. A vicious, thrilled look was lit up all over Natasha’s face, while Emma looked slightly more reserved. Regretful, even. She just hung back, while Natasha moved forward as if to corner Ella.

“What’s the matter?” Natasha cooed, voice thick with faux-concern. “You look a little confused, Ella.”

“Don’t call me that!” Ella cried. Even the name was dangerous. It tempted her back to Emma’s side.

“But it’s your name,” Natasha said knowingly. “Isn’t it?”

“My name is… is…” Ella couldn’t bring herself to say it. That other name. She just wasn’t sure, so she decided to focus on what she did know instead. “You did something to me!” she spat. “You messed with m-my head!”

“Messed with your head? That’s ridiculous,” Natasha replied, but Emma tugged hesitantly at her sleeve.

“I dunno, Nat,” Emma said hesitantly. She looked truly torn. “Maybe we should just… leave hi-… um, her alone for a bit?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “You too, huh? I’m surprised.”

For a moment, Ella’s heart went out to her sister. Her desire to save her from Natasha’s clutches was rekindled. For as much as Emma had been helping to torment her, it was abundantly clear she was under Natasha’s sway. Maybe she was waking up, just as Ella was. Maybe Ella could get through to her. If they stuck together, surely they could figure all of this out.

When Natasha spoke again, her undiminished confidence instantly crushed Ella’s hopes.

“Oh well.” Natasha shrugged. “Two birds, one stone.” She turned to Emma. “Look at me, babe.”

Emma shrank into herself a little. She glanced at the floor, but couldn’t seem to bring herself to leave Natasha’s side. “C’mon,” she said quietly. “N-not right now. Isn’t this going a bit too far?”

“Look. At. Me,” Natasha insisted.

Slowly, even though Ella was willing her not to, Emma turned her eyes upwards until she was meeting Natasha’s gaze. At once, her breathing seemed to slow.

“C’mon…” she whimpered again, but her heart wasn’t in it.

“Emma,” Natasha said to her. “Quiet Mind.”

The hypnotic trigger took hold of Ella’s sister immediately. Her eyelids drooped and she started to sway, any hint of defiance draining rapidly from her face. Ella was horrified by the way it took just moments for Natasha to completely subdue her. Natasha lifted a hand and stroked Emma’s cheek; the touch made the hypnotized woman shiver.

“There we go,” Natasha said to Ella, as she held Emma’s gaze. “I didn’t think she still had it in her. She was having so much fun, after all.”

“S-stop,” Ella whispered. “Leave her alone.”

A whisper was all she could muster. After all, it was affecting her too. Ella found herself unable to look away from Emma, and the dazed, blank, submissive expression that had dawned on her face. Once again, it was pulling at her: the urge to reflect. To be her twin. To be the mirror.

To mirror her submission to Natasha.

“Emma,” Ella pleaded. “Wake up.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Natasha smirked. “She just needs a little refresher.” She addressed Emma again. “Look at Ella for me, Emma. Look at what you helped me do to your brother.”

Slowly, Emma turned and fixed her glassy eyes on Ella.

“She barely even knows who she is anymore,” Natasha whispered, and her words sent shivers down both siblings’ spines. “Her name. Her gender. She’s just a shadow of you now. Twisted. Feminized.” Natasha licked her lips. “Isn’t it fucking hot?”

Ella trembled as she saw Emma’s cheeks start to fill with color.

“Just picture the two of you,” Natasha went on. “Wrapped up in each other. Identical. Kissing, touching… it’s so wrong, isn’t it? But you know how good it would feel. Don’t you want to play with your reflection, Emma?”

To Ella’s horror, Emma slowly nodded. She was blushing more and more as the seconds wore on, her implanted fetishes overwhelming her better judgment.

And once more, Ella couldn’t help but feel it too.

“There we go,” Natasha cooed. “This is just a tiny little roadblock. Don’t worry. The two of you will be happy, pretty, fucked-up little twin sisters soon enough. You’ll help me… won’t you, Emma?”

Emma nodded. Ella’s heart sank.

“Perfect,” Natasha purred. “OK, Ella. Your turn.”

Ella grit her teeth. She couldn’t pretend that seeing Emma give in to Natasha so swiftly wasn’t having an effect on her, but Natasha’s words had, at least, given her something to hold on to. After all, she’d practically confessed to what she’d done to Ella.

“No,” she said, as firmly as she could. “No way. Get away from us.”

“I don’t think so,” Natasha replied cockily. “Emma. Show her. Kneel.”

Obediently, Emma sank to her knees. Ella frowned, confused, as an unwelcome mix of emotions hit her.

“Look at her, Ella,” Natasha said. Ella flinched. The name still felt like a magic spell being cast on her. “Look into her.”

“No,” Ella whispered, but she couldn’t help looking. Emma captivated her. The utter, blank submission of her pose. The look of faint, hazy lust in her eyes.

“She looks just like you, doesn’t she?” Natasha’s voice carried an air of dangerous finality.

“No,” Ella shook her head instinctively. “No, she-“

She froze. How could she deny it? They did. They really did. Ella and Emma had always looked pretty similar - despite her confusion about her own identity, she could sense the truth of that. And now, it was all but uncanny. They were wearing the same dresses. The same makeup. Their heels made them the same height. Abigail, Emma’s coworker, had taken them for twin sisters.

Maybe. Maybe they really were. Ella found herself uncertain again.

“The same face,” Natasha said, her voice soothing. “Exactly the same face. Look at her expression, Ella. You can picture that expression on your face too, can’t you?”

All could. All too easily, she could. Ella could feel tiny muscles twitching in her face. The thought was an irresistible tic. The psychological equivalent of an earworm.

What if she made that face? Would she look exactly like Emma?

Ella tried her hardest to hold back. She was afraid that if she adopted her sister’s expression, she wouldn’t be able to stop.

“And look at how she’s kneeling,” Natasha continued, “you could do that too, couldn’t you?”

Ella shook her head again. “N-no. No.”

“You couldn’t?” Natasha tilted her head, feigning confusion. “Of course you could! It would be easy. Just drop to your knees, Ella. Right now. That’s all you have to do.”

Ella paled as her legs went weak. It seemed so tempting, suddenly. She knew, she just knew, it would be satisfying to kneel. Like seeing the last piece of a puzzle slot into place.

“N-no,” she said. Even to her, her voice sounded weak.

“No, no, no,” Natasha mocked. “Is that all you can say? Like a broken record. Like… like an echo.” Her smile was nasty. “Perfect.”

“I’m not!” Ella protested. It was so unfair. How was she supposed to find words when her head was spinning like this? “I’m not an echo or a reflection! I’m m-my own person!”

“Really? That so?” Natasha challenged.

“Yes!” Ella summoned up as much of her will as remained. She wasn’t going to let Natasha beat her. “I am!”

She wanted to be her own person. That was the thought that became her source of strength. Ella wasn’t sure who she was, exactly, but she was sure that she didn’t want to go back to being just a reflection. She couldn’t bear it any longer: the hopeless, never-ending anxiety and inadequacy. Ella was desperate for more. To be real. To be whole.

“I’m not a reflection,” she vowed. “I’m me. I’m real.”

The last thing she expected was for Natasha to simply nod and shrug.

“Alright then,” she said lightly. “I guess you are.”

Ella was so surprised she almost tipped over. She’d been leaning into the wind; now the wind was gone, she was unbalanced. “H-huh?”

“Lemme ask you something,” Natasha put to her. “If you look at something and its reflection, what’s the difference?”

Ella blinked. There had to be a trick, but she couldn’t see it.

“One’s… real?” she said, like it was obvious.

“Right,” Natasha agreed. “But if you’re just looking, you can’t tell, can you?”

Ella furrowed her brow. “What… what are you…”

Natasha grinned proudly at her. “Maybe you’re the real thing. And Emma’s the reflection.”

That simple possibility froze Ella in her tracks. She was lost for words. She’d never dared to consider it before. Emma, her reflection? It sounded wrong, somehow. Twisted. And yet…

“I’m… the real thing?” Ella asked, a pathetic note of hope creeping into her voice.

“It seems like it,” Natasha told her. “And she’s your reflection.”

A sigh of longing escaped Ella’s lips. It was exactly what she’d wanted to hear. There was something intoxicating about the notion: she was real, not Emma. Her. It made her feel powerful. Now, as she looked down at her sister, kneeling and hypnotized, Ella couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of superiority.

It made sense now. The reason Emma had taken such joy in taunting her.

And amidst the euphoria of her new station, Ella’s concerns about her own identity slipped out of sight.

“I’m the real thing,” Ella said, with growing confidence. “I am. Me.”

“That’s right,” Natasha assured her. “You. Ella.”

Ella found herself nodding along. She was still suspicious of Natasha, of course, but she couldn’t deny that the other woman seemed to have changed her tune. She was helping Ella now, and with every affirmation she offered, Ella’s head seemed to grow a little clearer. A little freer of distraction and doubt.

“You know, I heard all about it from her,” Natasha added, after a moment. “You two, growing up together. She may be your twin, but she was always your little sister, right? Following you around. Imitating you. Trying to be like you.”

Again, Ella nodded. Natasha’s words rang true. She remembered that much, even if the exact details - ages, genders - remained fuzzy.

“Just like a reflection would,” Natasha told her. “Right? Reflecting the original. Reflecting you.”

Emma certainly looked more like a reflection than anything else, Ella thought. She was still kneeling, still stunned and dazed from the trigger word Natasha had used to drop her. There seemed to be nothing going on in her head at all. The only sign she was more than a mannequin was the way she kept occasionally squirming from the humiliating arousal she felt at her situation.

But that made sense too, Ella realized. After all, she was turned on too. Emma was just reflecting her.

Once she realized that, the very thought had Ella spellbound.

“If only she understood her place,” Natasha lamented. “Maybe you can show her.”

“Show her… how?” Ella asked dumbly.

“She needs to see how similar you can be,” Natasha suggested. “How identical you are. Like she showed you, yesterday. So, go on. Show her.”

She gestured down, toward the ground next to where Emma was kneeling. For a brief moment, Ella was on her guard. Was Natasha telling her to kneel? Ella wasn’t going to do that… or so she’d thought.

She wouldn’t kneel for Natasha. But this wasn’t about her. This was about proving she was real. And besides, it just felt right.

So, Ella let herself sink to her knees.

“There,” Natasha said softly. “Isn’t that better?”

Ella nodded - and was filled with a dizzying rush when Emma did too. She was feeling it again: the euphoria of being perfectly in sync with her twin. And this time, any anxieties about Natasha’s intentions were being kept at bay. There was no need to second-guess. Ella could simply enjoy the moment.

“The two of you really do look so alike,” Natasha marveled. “Perfect mirror images. It’s uncanny. Although… it could be a little better, I suppose.”

Ella watched a wounded look flash across Emma’s face, and felt the same expression on her own. After such ecstatic praise, it felt awful to hear that they weren’t quite perfect.

“Maybe if you tilt your face up just a little,” Natasha suggested to Ella. Her energy, her enthusiasm, perfectly matched Ella’s. It was so easy to be pulled into her flow. “That’s it. And let your shoulders drop. Good. Make sure Emma’s mirroring you perfectly.”

The tension drained from Ella’s shoulders as she complied with Natasha’s advice. It was so easy. Like slipping back into a familiar groove.

“Shouldn’t…” Ella said slowly, as the worry came to her, “she be copying me? Not the other way around?”

“You’re just teaching her a lesson,” Natasha assured her at once. “Showing her how to be a proper reflection. Our poor Emma needs a little education. Isn’t that what big twin sisters are for?”

Ella nodded at once. It was so nice to be recognized as the superior between them. The real deal.

“Now,” Natasha went on, “there’s your breathing. Look at how Emma’s breathing. Nice and slow. Nice and deep. Watch her chest rise and fall. You can do that too, right Ella?”

Of course she could. Ella was quick to demonstrate. She let the gentle swelling of Emma’s chest guide her as she slowly filled her lungs with air, before letting it all out again. Nice and slow. Nice and deep. The more she breathed, the more any sense of alarm or fear faded from her mind.

“And you, Emma,” Natasha added. “Now you’re too shallow. Breathe deeper. Just like Ella.”

Ella hadn’t realized they were out of sync. But now, as Emma breathed deeper and deeper, bringing herself even further into trance, Ella worked to keep pace with her.

“There we are.” Natasha finally seemed satisfied. “You’re identical. Inside and out. Inside and out. Exactly the same.”

Her peculiar emphasis on the phrase caught Ella’s ear. She wanted to ask, but it wouldn’t seem right. Not without Emma asking too, and she couldn’t be sure of that. Ella found herself paralyzed by that uncertainty. Trapped, staring into the mirror.

“Yes, inside and out,” Natasha said, as if sensing her response. “Doesn’t that just make sense, when you’re this similar? You know what they say about identical twins sensing each other’s thoughts. It’s not that you’re telepathic, of course. It’s just that when nature and nurture perfectly align, why wouldn’t you have exactly the same thing going on in your heads?”

That made sense to Ella. She and Emma had always been on the same wavelength, after all.

“So,” Natasha went on, “what do you think is going on inside Emma’s head, Ella?”

Ella glanced at Emma for a moment. It wasn’t a difficult question to answer. The look of blank, placid mindlessness plastered all over her face suggested only one possibility:

Nothing.

When she thought about it like that, Ella was possessed with a sudden yearning to experience that same emptiness. And, to her surprise, she found it was already close at hand. All she had to do was let the current carry her away, and lose herself to the bliss of ideal, immaculate sisterhood.

“Just a reflection,” Ella found herself murmuring, as she focused on Emma. “Just… a… reflection.”

Natasha’s smile steadily widened as she watched all thoughts drain from Ella’s head. She waited for a few minutes, allowing Ella and Emma to drag one another deeper and deeper. It was an automatic process now. A vicious cycle. Each twin was primed to look to the other for validation. Each twin was primed to worry that the other was breathing deeper, thinking less, kneeling more perfectly. Each one was prepared to strive to be more and more perfect.

And just like that, they were spelling each other’s doom.

“You know,” Natasha mused aloud. “Here’s the real truth about mirror images, my darling twins. Sometimes, it doesn’t matter which one is the real deal. Because all that really matters is that both of you are completely and utterly mine.”