My name is Ren Amekawa.
I've always been the type of person who disappears into the background. Not because I try to — I just do. Speaking to someone I don't know feels like stepping onto a stage with no script and every spotlight burning down on me. My throat tightens, my palms sweat, and my brain goes completely blank. So I don't speak. I've perfected the art of keeping my head down, earphones in (even when nothing is playing), and eyes fixed on the floor tiles as I walk through the crowded school corridors.
I have zero friends. Not even one. No group chats blowing up my phone. No one saving a seat for me at lunch. I eat alone on the rooftop or in the far corner of the library where the light barely reaches. I'm not part of any club either.
The thought of joining one — of being forced to talk, to participate, to be seen — makes my stomach twist into knots. So every day is the same: I come to school, sit silently through classes, and go straight home the moment the final bell rings.
Final year of high school. I turned eighteen a few months ago, and nothing changed. No celebration. No messages.
My life is a flat line. Predictable. Safe. Empty.
I wake up, take the same train, walk the same route past the noisy groups of laughing students, slip into the classroom like a ghost, and leave the same way. No one notices me. And honestly? I prefer it that way.
At least… that's what I kept telling myself.
Because I had no idea — none at all — that my painfully quiet, painfully lonely life was about to be shattered in the most unexpected, terrifying, and intoxicating way possible.
June 21st. 7:39 PM.
The clock on my desk glowed softly in the dim light of my room. I had already finished all my homework — every single page — and now the evening stretched out in front of me, empty and boring as always. My room was quiet, too quiet. The only sound was the low hum of the ceiling fan and the faint noise of traffic far outside.
I sat on the edge of my bed, heart beating a little faster than usual. After a moment of hesitation, I opened my laptop and typed with slightly shaky fingers: "big breasts lady" into the search bar. The screen filled with thumbnails that made my face heat up. I swallowed hard, feeling that familiar mix of shame and excitement stirring in my stomach.
I reached over and grabbed the tissue box from my desk, placing it right next to me. My hand moved to the waistband of my pants. I was just about to pull them down when —
Knock knock.
"Ren? Come down and eat dinner!" My mother's voice came through the door, clear and impatient.
My heart jumped violently. In a panic, I slammed the laptop shut so fast I nearly cracked the screen. The sudden movement knocked the tissue box off the bed. It tumbled down and disappeared into the narrow gap between the bed and the wall.
"Shit…" I whispered under my breath.
I quickly dropped to my knees on the floor and reached under the bed, stretching my arm as far as I could. My fingers brushed against dust and old cables, but I couldn't quite reach the tissue box. Then something else caught my eye — a faint reflection. A mirror?
I paused, frowning. I didn't remember ever putting a mirror under my bed. The angle was strange, and the surface looked… off. Almost too clean. I stretched further, trying to get a better look, my cheek pressed against the cold floor.
"Ren! Hurry up! The food is getting cold!" My mother called again, louder this time, her voice carrying up the stairs.
I froze. My pulse was racing. For a second I considered ignoring her and reaching one more time, but the fear of her coming up and knocking again won. I pulled my arm back, stood up quickly, and brushed the dust off my pants.
"I'm coming…" I muttered, even though she couldn't hear me.
With one last uneasy glance toward the gap under my bed, I left my room, heart still pounding from the near-miss and the strange mirror I swore wasn't there before.
I completely forgot about that strange mirror under my bed while I was eating dinner. My mother kept talking about something at work, but I barely heard a word. My mind was elsewhere — half still upstairs, half replaying the panic of almost getting caught. After dinner, I sat downstairs watching TV for a couple of hours, staring blankly at the screen without really seeing anything. Eventually, exhaustion crept in. I dragged myself back upstairs, changed into loose shorts, and collapsed onto my bed without even brushing my teeth. Sleep took me almost instantly.
Then… everything changed.
I opened my eyes and found myself floating weightlessly in complete darkness. No floor, no walls — just endless black space. My body felt strangely light, almost unreal.
That's when I saw her.
A girl with long, flowing white hair drifted toward me slowly. Her face was hidden in shadow, but her body was impossible to ignore. She wore a thin, dark dress that was dangerously low-cut, the fabric straining hard against her massive, shining breasts. Deep, soft cleavage spilled out, the inner curves glistening as if coated in faint moonlight. The dress looked like it was barely holding on — stretched so tightly that it accentuated every heavy, rounded fold and swell of her chest.
She came closer without making a sound.
Before I could react, she gently took my trembling hand and pressed it firmly against her left breast. The moment my palm made contact, a powerful wave of sensation surged through me.
It was incredibly soft. Warm. Impossibly full. My fingers sank deep into the yielding flesh, feeling the weight and smoothness as I instinctively squeezed. The sensation was overwhelming — far more intense than anything I had ever felt in real life. My body reacted instantly. Heat rushed downward. My cock stiffened painfully hard inside my shorts, throbbing with urgent need.
Then, without any warning or control, I felt it happen.
A sudden, powerful spasm. Thick, warm semen pulsed out of me in strong spurts, soaking into my underwear and shorts. The pleasure was so sharp and sudden that my vision blurred.
My eyes snapped open.
I was back in my room.
Lying on my bed, breathing heavily, heart hammering against my ribs. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the digital clock on my desk.
It was June 22nd. 2:27 AM.
I had only slept for a few hours.
And I had just had the most intense wet dream of my life.
I slowly sat up, feeling the uncomfortable, sticky warmth spreading in my pants. My underwear and shorts were completely soaked. The fabric clung wetly to my skin, and the unmistakable smell of semen filled the air around me. My face burned with embarrassment even though I was completely alone.
"Shit…" I whispered hoarsely.
I had to change. Right now. Before my mother noticed anything strange.
But as I swung my legs off the bed, my eyes instinctively drifted toward the narrow gap between the bed and the wall… where I had seen that mirror.
Having a wet dream is sometimes really annoying.
It completely breaks your sleep. One moment you're lost in an intense dream, the next you're wide awake in the middle of the night with your pants soaked and sticky. The warm mess clings uncomfortably to your skin, and the strong musky smell lingers in the dark room. It's even worse when you have pubic hair. The thick, coarse hairs around my penis trap the semen, making everything feel messier and harder to clean. It sticks to the hairs, dries in clumps, and makes the whole area itchy and gross.
I sighed in frustration, my face still burning with embarrassment even though I was alone. The clock showed 2:27 AM. I didn't want to deal with this right now, but I had no choice.
I quietly got up, careful not to make too much noise. My shorts and underwear were heavy and wet against my thighs. I grabbed a fresh pair of underwear and shorts from my drawer and tiptoed to the bathroom. There, under the dim night light, I pulled everything off, washed myself thoroughly with warm water, making sure to clean around the base of my cock and through the patch of dark hair. The semen had really stuck to the hairs, forcing me to rub harder than I wanted. After rinsing everything, I peed, then dried myself properly
Feeling a little cleaner but still groggy and annoyed, I changed into the fresh clothes and quietly made my way back to my room.
The moment I stepped inside and closed the door behind me, my eyes instinctively went to the narrow gap between the bed and the wall.
That strange mirror.
I had almost forgotten about it again because of the wet dream, but now the memory came rushing back. The weird reflection I'd seen earlier… the one I was sure wasn't there before. My heart started beating a little faster. The room felt quieter than usual, the air heavier.
For a few seconds, I just stood there in the darkness, hesitating. Part of me wanted to ignore it and just go back to sleep. But another part — the curious, slightly nervous part — kept pulling my attention toward that dark space under the bed.
I swallowed hard.
Should I check it now?
I don't know what came over me.
Even though it was the middle of the night and I was still groggy from the wet dream, something pulled me toward that narrow gap under the bed. My heart was already beating faster as I knelt on the cold floor. The wooden boards creaked softly under my knees. I lowered myself further, pressing my cheek against the dusty floor, and reached deep into the darkness.
My fingers finally brushed against something solid.
It was colder than I expected.
I grabbed the object and slowly pulled it out. As it emerged into the dim light of my room, I realized it really was a mirror — but nothing like any mirror I had ever seen.
It was ancient. The frame was made of dark, ornate metal with intricate, worn-out carvings that looked like they belonged in some forgotten temple or old European mansion. Strange symbols and swirling patterns covered the edges, faded with age. The glass itself was surprisingly clear, almost unnaturally so, with a faint silver sheen that seemed to shift when I moved it.
I sat back on my heels, holding the mirror in both hands. My reflection stared back at me — messy black hair, tired eyes, flushed cheeks from embarrassment and nerves. Just my ordinary, boring face.
Curiosity got the better of me.
I hesitantly reached out and touched the surface with my fingertips.
The moment my skin made contact, a bright, thin beam of light shot out from the center of the mirror straight into my eyes. It was blindingly white for a split second — then vanished completely, as if it had never been there.
I flinched, heart jumping.
"What the hell…?"
I gripped the mirror tighter. My breathing had become shallow. Against my better judgment, I touched the glass again.
This time… my fingers didn't stop at the surface.
They sank straight through.
It felt like pushing my hand into cool, thick liquid. No resistance, no pain — just a strange, tingling chill that ran up my arm. I could see my fingers disappearing into the mirror as if it had turned into silver water.
Panic hit me instantly.
I yanked my hand back out with a sharp gasp. My fingers were perfectly fine, not even wet. But my pulse was now racing wildly.
I should have stopped there. I should have put the mirror down and gone back to bed.
But I didn't.
Swallowing hard, I stared at the mirror for a few more seconds. Then, driven by some stupid mix of curiosity and disbelief, I reached out again — this time with my whole hand.
The surface rippled.
Before I could pull away, the mirror suddenly pulled me in.
My arm disappeared up to the elbow, then my shoulder. A powerful, cold force gripped my body. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. In one terrifying instant, my entire body was yanked forward.
The mirror swallowed me whole.
Everything went dark.