(WARNING: This story is rated MATURE for adult content and explicit imagery. Keep this story and all other material like it out of the hands of children.)
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It has been more than a week since you were visited by your mysterious mirror-image...since you and she made love together. That incident has stayed in your mind every waking hour of the day...and somehow, each time you recall it, an involuntary wetness emerges between your legs. You can't explain it; you don't know why...it just is.
You have not mentioned anything of the strange visitor to your man—he would likely believe you were making it up, or worse, trying to come up with a fancy way of saying you were cheating on him. And the sheet you were on when she made love to you—you have tried washing it with every kind of disinfectant, but somehow the blue stain she left from your heated moment of passion has refused to be removed. You know that there is no logical or rational way you will be able to explain this stain to your man, so you have resorted to keeping this particular sheet locked up.
Ever since that night, you have found yourself constantly and carefully examining your own body. Up to now you haven't found any noteworthy differences in your physical appearance, nor have you noted any other significant changes from before. Since the mysterious woman ejaculated her fluid inside you when you made love, you've been expecting at least some form of change to come over you—but none has, and for that you are grateful.
Now...
It is nighttime once again—9:55 to be exact. Vaguely, you remember that this was the same time you had gone to bed when that stranger showed up. Now, though, you push it to the back of your mind, though you have certainly not forgotten the experience. After all, what are the chances she will come again?
Once again you are alone in your room, clad only in your nightgown. Moments ago, you had a long hot shower, to relax your nerves in preparation for sleep; the heat of the water on your bare skin in the bathroom is still radiating off of you as you climb in between your sheets. Today, your room was sprayed with strawberry scents; the fragrance lingers in the air as your head hits the pillow. The beautiful colors of the drapery combined with the paint on the walls and the redness of the carpet provide something of an illusion for your imagination: that you are resting yourself in a garden. The only flaw is, here you are Eve, but tonight you must sleep without Adam.
A delicious warmth fills your chest and stomach as you think of your lover. Since that tantalizing night when your mirror-image came to you, your lovemaking with your man has gotten far better than it had ever been before. The time you spend in each other's arms has become longer, slower, more teasing, more fulfilling. Perhaps, then, that incident with your other self was just your mind's way of expressing your desire for him, to feel him inside you, slowly taking you. Although that logical explanation doesn't give an account for the mysterious blue stains on your old bed-clothes...
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A peculiar scent hits your nostrils. Your nose twitching, you rouse yourself and sit up in bed. The scent is strange, but not unpleasant...almost like the smell of nature after the rain has fallen. Rubbing your eyes, you glance around—
