You are not alone when you awaken

The backlit blood swims in your eyelids. The dull throb of your head recedes as you become aware of a total-body burning sensation. It grows more and more intense until you let out a gasp and open your eyes. You feel the ship moving beneath you. It is obviously underway across the black lake.

The pain recedes into dreams of dying and being reborn in strange, new flesh. You are in a small room bathed in red light from a lantern. Your body is covered in a foul-smelling, slippery slime. Stranger still, you realize you are hugged tightly against another body. This person is stirring as well. She turns, exposing the modest curve of her hip, the pert youth of her breast, and the beauty of her features. Your features. Her familiar eyes open and focus on you.

"You look like me," she says.

"You look like me," you reply.

You feel a flash of anger, reflected in her features, as you each seem to realize in the same moment that the other is the impostor created by Bulgarmet's loathsome magic. You push away from her with your hands and she pushes you away with her knees. You each struggle to your feet. Your muscles are so sore you can barely stand and she looks no more sure on her feet.

"What are you?" she asks.

"You're not going to fool me," you reply. "You're not the real Sabine St. Croix."

She reaches for the door, but it is locked. She pounds on it and shouts, "Let me out of here!"

A wooden panel slides open in the door and Bulgarmet's hideous face presses through it like rising dough. His eye bulge and he licks his flabby lips with that hideous tongue. You feel a twinge of remembrance at your wanton submission to your lust for his daemonic cocks.

"Good, you're both awake."

"I went through with it," you say. "A deal is a deal."

"Oh, yes, of course. I'm afraid there has been a bit of a problem though. I've somehow lost track of which of you is the real Sabine St. Croix and which is the duplicate. You'll understand, of course, that once you're inside me it become so easy to confuse one for the other. My girls are so very real. There is no difference at all. Except for obedience."

Another panel opens in the door and one of Bulgarmet's disgusting cocks swells and slithers through. It droops out of the hole, looking like some fat parasitic grub trying to suck blood from a wooden door. Precum begins to drip steadily from his tip. You and the impostor both take a step away, pressing your slender backs against the creaking wall of the ship.

"What is she supposed to with that?" asks the other Sabine, hooking a thumb in your direction.

"Whatever she desires," chuckles Bulgarmet. "You as well, my dear. But the door will only open, you will only be released, when one of you has satisfied me."

Bulgarmet's face retreats through the panel and it slides closed. His foul cock remains, flexing slightly as if anticipating being touched. You look from the cock to your impostor. She is looking at you, anger obvious on her face. You know the feeling very well. This lie is infuriating and so are Bulgarmet's tests.

Most infuriating of all though is the strange attraction you feel to the impostor. Perhaps a common ground can be found. Perhaps you can enjoy each other. That's not narcissism, is it?