Joao found himself on the floor of his dorm unit in the morning after a night out he barely remembered. To his surprise, someone quite tall and imposing is already standing several meters away from the place he fell asleep wearing some of his clothing that fitted perfectly to his body, raising questions in Joao's mind
"Dude.....who are you?"
Imagine his surprise when that person stripped the hoodie and turned around to reveal that he's the exact copy of him!
"Good morning, Joao. Finally, you're awake, time for extraction,"
Right before he managed to scream, the copy already leaped at him ready to inflict sizable damage to the barely awake Joao. But, it's not like there can be 2 of them anyway.....
---
Robbie remembered that he felt awful after that full-day test. He especially felt drowsy as soon as the institute's one out of many instructor injected him with the bright blue vial, he barely got any energy left to do evening workout as he headed straight to his dorm yesterday evening. He actually never felt this awful ever since his first day at the Hiper (High-Performing) Institute and if traced back, never once in his life he felt this sort of unbearable soreness and bloated sensation. That's why the first thing that come to mind when he spotted a perfect copy of himself standing right at the edge of his bed is that there must be something that fucked him up and this might be an allergic reaction or some sort. But, the voice of that strange copy, the way his body can feel all the bodily sensation, and the fact that this vision of a double never go away even after he put on his glasses and chug the glass of water next to his bed, he's started to tremble in fear at the prospect of having a double of himself literally watching and towering over him.
"What the fuck is this BS? Who the fuck are you?"
"I'm you, Robbie. But better. For starter, I'm stronger, much stronger than you, and I'm going to break the competition's record with ease and no substance whatsoever will be detected on me because this is all naturally me,"
"What the fuck are you talking about, you fre---"
"Yeah, don't bother. Everything of physical essence of you has been drained to create me. There's only one thing left of yours that I need to take,"
As the double grabbed his glasses, he started to open his mouth but unlike regular human mouth, it stretched beyond belief and a tiny serpent-like creature emerged from its throat
The serpent-like throat-being quickly wrapped itself around Robbie's head to silence him and then darted right through his ear as it started to suck on Robbie's brain.
Minutes later, Robbie's deflated body already tucked inside a duffel bag ready to be thrown out. Meanwhile, the copy, now fully immersed in Robbie's memory, started to record the regular morning routine the real Robbie always do, complete with his iconic glasses
---
Ezra watched with confusion how Bradley and Jamar got away with the dope clearly injected to their body by the coaches in this institute as their test result came back negative earlier today. Ezra risked his future when he became a whistleblower to reveal a corrupt system in a sporting centre claiming to create natural sporting champions, and for that to be proven otherwise devastated him. It's only a matter of time before the school's managed to trace that he was the one snitching the school's coaches and students to the Athletic Fairness Board. Is this jealousy in him after seeing Jamar and Bradley improved so much within weeks while he remained stagnant? But he clearly saw that injection and how Jamar did not even able to run with the same pace and intensity as him throughout the whole course, so there must be something in that injection he didn't know and also undetected by the Board. Or maybe.....the board worked together with the school to create unbeatable national champions that can maintain the country's dominance in global level? That's possible......but he just sensed that it's not the case here. In the meantime, the vitamin shot given by Estelle proven to work wonders for him so he's probably going to ask for more while also investigate what sort of vitamin complex is in it.
But, before he can even do that, as he walked to the sauna chamber, an unbelievable sight surprised him, his body leaving the sauna chamber with Estelle moaning his name and still touching herself
"Looks good, don't you think?" smirked his copy, utter confusion painted on Ezra's face
"She's such a brilliant chick. He knows you pretty well so that's why instead of using the coaches, we used your childhood friends to do the bidding for us. Those vitamin shots? That's me, baby,"
Still slack-jawed and haven't framed his thought to whatever blabber delivered by this exact clone of himself, the clone suddenly grabbed him by the throat and smirked
"Say my sorry to the real Estelle, her likeness served us well and I think you'll be happier with her up there,"
And just like that, the alien darted right to Ezra's brain, sucking the man's dry from his life force and ensuring that there's only one Ezra's left......
---
Idk yall......is this good enough? Intriguing? Anything? Do tell me, the idea sounds interesting to me and I have some decent pics......but is this an enjoyable read???
It was the only occasion in Martin's life where he was explicitly invited to touch, sniff, worship and do all kinds of lewd stuff thinkable with a hung stud. The stud was standing inches away from him, in all his shirtless glory, and potentially not just shirtless if Martin were to be more adventurous with his demand.
Of course, Adrian never struck him as particularly homophobic, but he did radiate an aura of superiority, one that signalled to plebs of any gender or sexuality that to get to interact with him was itself a privilege. Although this aura had been uncharacteristically replaced with a more toned down and easy-going, if not to say dumbed down, version for the last week or so, Martin was still not believing the words that just came out of Adrian's mouth.
Especially when those words only strengthened in Martin the conviction that, somehow, Adrian's body was now inhabited by the mind of his scrawny, geeky, usually seen gamer-postured with the typical hyper-extended neck and hunched back friend, Jonas.
"What, you really don't wanna enjoy some of this meat?", Adrian flexed seductively in front of his reluctant friend-but-not-friend, flashing Jonas's trademark goofy expression.
Martin was reminded of those cliche situations in Hollywood movies. A character met an imposter, someone who looked like Person A but claimed to be Person B, and in order to prove their true identity had to disclose to his interlocutor some private, often embarrassing secrets that only him and the latter should know. The difference was that in Martin's case, it was not a life-or-death situation. His life would probably not be in danger regardless of whether he chose to believe in the story just uttered. For now, at least.
But despite the barrage of secrets, indeed private and embarrassing, constantly pouring out of Adrian's mouth, the inhibition in Martin's rational mind never ceased. The change of heart was caused by something else.
He thought of that meme, "inside you there are two wolves".
One was more paranoid than the other. Both were horny. And humans are, after all, animals.
âźâźâźâźâź
Post-nut clarity hit harder than he thought, even a day later. Now sitting in Jonas'sâ well, it's Adrian now. In body and mind. According to the culprit himself, memory and personality were also absorbed. That explained the obnoxious behaviours when Jonas the persona was gone for the whole week. Now sitting in Adrian's Bugatti Chiron, with the spellbook firmly between his palms and on their way to take over another body, questions after questions kept cropping up in his head.
Magic being real aside, how could a spellbook, one so powerful that it could allow a loser like Jonas to completely assimilate Adrian, came into his hand in the first place? Whether he really got it from a thrift store like he said, or from Temu or AliExpress or some witchy hut in the Irish woods or a castle taken straight out of Resident Evil Village, it was obvious he was not meant to be its owner.
Perhaps that was truly what Martin struggled with. That Jonas was some kind of chosen one, not as soothsaid by a spontaneous coke-driven prophecy, but simply by being more predisposed. Gifted to learn this gobbledygook, something that to Martin may as well be gibberish.
His ego was in shambles. He had always counted himself as the smarter of the two, and now the prospect that not only did Jonas possessed superpower, but also managed to get a hotter body, a solid personality, a more financially cushioned identity, just didn't sit right with him.
It should have been me.
He flipped through the book. The cursive Latin was incomprehensible to him. OCR and AI didn't help either, given that when instructed yesterday to explicitly flag out anything it couldnât recognise instead of hallucinating words, a third of the pages just turned into one long row of "[unreadable]". Thankfully for every ten or thirteen pages, he could always find a handwritten note inserted, where there was more legible writing in a modern tongue.
He was surprised by how hard it was to even do something useful with the bound stack of piss-coloured paper. He spent three hours the day before trying to turn his hair blond. Granted, it's now naturally lighter, but he'd rather get a tube from Rossmann, splatter it all over his messy hair and scroll through brainrot videos for 45 minutes instead of working his tongue and mandible to exhaustion trying to pronounce rows after rows of impossible syllables.
Adrian had offered to help him speed up his progress. And he had declined. He really wanted to do everything all by himself, the current body heist included. Instead, the whole operation was concocted from A to Z by his friend. His frustration was through the roof, and one steamy instance of having Adrian creamed into his mouth had not erased his suspicion, only transmuted it into scorn.
"Right. Walk me through the plan once again."
"Jesus, man, relax. It's simple as fuck, you don't have to ask about it every hour," he took a break, anticipating Martin's retort. Spotting none, he continued.
"I'm close with Leon, and if that thick head of yours still has trouble remembering the most basic of facts, it's hot and hung Leon Weber. And by close, I mean suuuper close. We'll reach his house in 20 minutes. Once there, I'll distract him while you do whatever you can to make sure you've got the whole incantation inside your noggin. Then you'll sneak into his room, use the spell and be Leon for the rest of your life. Or until you're bored with his body, I guess. If you don't want him then we can still snatch the sweet trust fund money."
It sounded too good to be true. Martin had seen Leon Weber in class before. Once. The guy rarely if ever attended class. Rich college kids and their grade-warping parents. Every other instance he saw him or the outline of his big dick had been through the thick scratched screen of his Xiaomi.
He imagined himself in Leon's pricey shoes, checking out his handsome face in the mirror, sniffing out his pits, whipping out his huge dong, having a good session before shooting a thick load over his meaty pecs. He would ride a flashy car across the city, drink fancy wine and bang twinks and hunks and bears and cubs and otters and DILFs and whatnot.
Fuck, he's hard already.
Sometimes his dick really got the better of him.
âźâźâźâźâź
"Just wait here and keep reading. I'll text you when everything's ready."
And with that, Martin was left alone. He was so anxious about the carrying out of the plan, add to that his fantasising about its outcome, that he did not even register them already being inside Leon Weber's residence. Or perhaps temporary residence? He had no idea how many properties were under Leon's name.
Must be at least 500 m2. As he darted his eyes to the left, he could already sight an infinity pool outlooking the valley, rows of inclined chairs spanning its edges. Through the sliding glass doors, he counted five bedrooms, an open plan kitchen and living area, all clad in large marble flooring slabs. And another half a dozen rooms whose verbose and long-winded names only real estate agents could come up with.
He tried just focusing on the book at first, but something kept tugging at his mind.
Doubts.
He could work for another thirty years and still never be able to afford a place like this. He wondered what other people would think of his old identity or what had become of him, when everything was already in place. He thought about Jonas. Adrian. Jonas and Adrian. And the book. That everything was so sudden, and he needed more time.
He looked at the book.
He could just run away with it. And plan things out later.
He swallowed.
The train of thoughts was cut off abruptly when his phone chimed.
"Yo come in from the backyard ill wait for you there."
That primed his spirit.
âźâźâźâźâź
He finally found his way to the backyard after some time of being navigationally challenged. As had been planned, Adrian was waiting for him, with nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist, effortlessly showing off his toned body while casually sipping coffee that he had probably managed to brew himself while Martin was busy catastrophising and preparing for the crucial part.
"Heyyyy, everything's good! Why the long face, man? (Martin promptly adjusted his mug). Anyways, I chatted with him for a while, taunted him with how he could not beat an Elden Ring boss on first try. He's busy farming runes right now, won't even notice you even if you stand behind him. Just come into his room, I'll show you the place."
The two of them passed the kitchen, and Martin stopped in his track. He heard clanging steel and heavy grunting coming from what seemed to be the room straight ahead to his right.
"That's the gym, right? Is he working out already?"
"Nah, it's someone else. Another friend. When you're loaded and well-known all kinds of peeps come to your house. Maybe we'll have some fun with him once you're already 'inside' Leon", he winked at Martin, and made a gesture that instantly boosted up the already high level of adrenaline in the latter's bloodstream.
Martin asked no more questions, and walked up the stairs. As he stole one last glance at the visible part of that room's floor, he swore he saw someone who looked almost identical to Adrian.
âźâźâźâźâź
The door opened, letting out a cold, air-conditioned breeze, as Martin and Adrian found themselves inside the room of their target. True to Adrian's words, Leon's gaze was fixed to the TV's screen. The ear-deafening sound effects of sword cutting through mobs rendered him oblivious to the presence of the intruders, leaving his muscular back completely exposed.
"He's yours", Adrian jutted his head up at his accomplice. The words were all drowned out by sounds coming from the game.
Martin wasted no time. His mouth contorted to pronounce all of the strange syllables. Clear and sharp. He felt his body become lighter, lighter, until he was detached from it altogether. Mustering all of his willpower, he hurled himself towards Leon.
He collided.
With a thud?
It was not human flesh that he felt, but a cold, hard, invisible flat surface. He tried to steer himself back, only to be hit by the same material.
No âŚ
He was still looking like himself, albeit blurrier and with a blue, ghostly tint to the outline of his limbs, and a reflection of the environment where the inside should be.
"Adrian. Jonas. Help!", he used the last of his energy to scream at Adrian, in despair hoping the latter's newfound magical power would allow him to hear Martin in his current form, something his target wouldn't be able to.
Nothing responded back at him.
Leon put down his controller, threw a smirk in Martin's direction.
And launched himself into a long, loud, maniacal cackle of laughter.
"Fuck, couldn't have been easier. You morons are rightfully made to be thralls."
He finished his sentence, and Adrian's voice joined in the cacophony of mockery. As the two of them continued to laugh, Martin, helpless and trapped, slowly realised what he had gotten himself into.
Adrian hollered at the door. "Hey 'Adrian', come in".
The door opened, revealing a perfect copy of Adrian in grey gym shorts and a towel in his hand.
It was the man Martin saw earlier while halfway up the stairs.
He was breathing heavily, with sweat completely coating all of his body. As Adrian-in-towel rested his hand on the newcomer's shoulder, Martin discerned the difference between them: sweaty Adrian-in-shorts had a dopey, dumb grin on his face that had stayed the same from the very moment he entered the room; meanwhile Adrian-in-towel's range of emotions switched from cruel mockery just one moment ago, to cheerful and happy-go-lucky just as he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his doppelganger, back to the neutral expression that had accompanied Martin the whole hour they were scheming on the road.
Adrian patted his twin on the back, "How's life, 'Adrian'?". Martin heard the peculiar Southern tinge of his friend in the question.
"Awesome, man!". The same voice talked back, devoid of any trace of Jonas at all.
Leon looked at Martin with disdain. "What, dimwit? Can't recognise your good old friend?".
The prolonged lack of a corporeal body had caused more strain on Martin's senses. He spoke weakly.
"Jonas, youâyou sided with him âŚ"
That provoked another stream of laughter from both of his captors.
"Alright, villain monologue time," said Adrian-in-towel once he had recovered from laughing.
"Last week, an idiot named Jonas, aimed with a cheap copy of the most common spellbook and three hours of sorry-ass fooling around, thought he could take over me. He used the same spell that you just did just seconds ago. Poor Jonas knew nothing about psionics, nothing about soul binding, and he thought he could just suppress my mind with that lame amount of knowledge. I showed him his place, and sealed him back in his body. Of course, not without some restrictions."
"I was thinking, this incompetent fuck must have been hired by my rivals to steal my body, so I crawled through all of his memory. Turned out he was just some horny loser. "
"See, I'm a nice guy. If he was here for blood, I might as well have turned him into my second cock or absorb his pathetic body mass until there's nothing left, but since he just wanted to be me that badly, I granted him his wish."
Adrian walked behind his twin.
"I made him a thrall. A walking meatsack that always listens to my commands."
"Isn't that right, buddy?", he asked the other Adrian with a sing-song voice. His arms slowly reached up the latter's pecs from behind.
"Yes, Master!", his twin replied enthusiastically.
"The cosmetics", Adrian paused, moving his left hand up to caress his himbo-copy's face, "is courtesy of my pal Leon."
"Thralls are hella useful", he pressed his body against the still-grinning husk of Martin's former friend. The soul in captive heard a wet sound as the layer of sweat dripping off Adrian-in-shorts's back clung to the other Adrian's torso. The latter slowly dug his hands into his thrall's torso. The thrall whimpered, and moaned loudly. From afar, Martin could see a tent pitching up in his gym shorts. The bulging muscles of his body had lost its previous glow, and with every passing moment, Martin could swear they were getting smaller. The hands digging into the thrall's pecs swelled, ballooning up with the stolen muscles. The similarity between the two had stopped being uncanny, as one now looked like he hadn't been to gym in months, while the other probably spent several hours a day pumping iron.
"I can eat whatever I want, and goof off whenever I'm not feeling like it. And 'Adrian' here would still diligently stick to his training regime. Cause he loves being a dumb rich jock bro."
"Right, Adrian?", he kissed his twin.
"Mmmh, yeah", 'Adrian' kissed back with puppy eyes.
"Enough of your softcore porn", interrupted Leon, whose face had 'bored' in bold and all-cap written all over it. "We need to get to work."
"I'll cut the story short for you, dimwit", continued Leon, turning his attention to Martin. "I'm tired of Adrian always bragging about his thrall, and since he owed me for the transmutation work needed to get that thrall looking irritatingly like a copy of him, I get to have a thrall of my own too. We struck the deal. Adrian slurped up the rest of that loser's memory and personality to play the bait. And here you are."
With that, all of Martin's hope was gone. He looked desperately at what remained of his friend. A copy of Adrian, now with his big hard cock already out of his shorts, sloppily kissing a more muscular version of him, who had also dropped his towel off.
"Wait here, I have work to do", said the original Adrian as he interrupted the love-making session with his twin.
"Yes, Master," the other Adrian replied with unwavering eagerness.
Naked Adrian held up the crystal container holding Martin's soul.
"Any specific details you want to add to his personality?", Adrian said to Leon.
"No. Keep the thrall simple."
"Okie dokie."
The trap opened up, and Martin felt like he was thrown into a washing machine spinning at its fastest setting. He had lost control of most of his senses, so now everything was like a daze. Then just as suddenly, he touched flesh again. Adrian's hand. His mind was tossed and turned, all its layers, its conception of past, present and future, its ability to distinguish between what's in and out, what's subject and object, what's ego and non-ego, got rolled and tumbled into a hot, wrinkly mess, a primordial soup of forms and formlesses all boiling and spilling its content over the rim of his consciousness, until something not unlike an industrial machine the size of the sun violently stomped on it and flattened it into a readable, navigable sheet.
And then the thing, with its spindly, thin, perfectly straight extremities, started to crawl, slowly and steadily on that very sheet. Each of its movements poked a hole in Martin's memory, causing jumbled scenes to reappear in his mind.
Jesus, man, relax. Adrian's voice echoed through the empty Bugatti. But no one was there.
Liar. The thought formed in Martin's head. It did not translate into a voice.
Watching you getting jealous and all worked up was really fun, Martin. The disembodied voice spoke again, this time resembling Jonas. But I don't think Leon would like seeing you like that.
The scene faded away, along with the voice.
"Farewell, Martin".
âźâźâźâźâź
The unconscious body of Martin came back to life, just in time for Leon, who appeared to be losing his patience. The naked Adrian propped Martin up, letting the latter meet Leon's gaze with his dull, empty eyes.
"Now's your turn", said Adrian as he shoved Martin towards the other man. Leon caught him with one arm, and shoved him further into his pit.
"Sniff."
Martin complied. He hungrily lapped his tongue at his captor's crevices while Leon's hand guided his head from the back.
"That will also be your scent from now on."
"Now open up that mouth", he lightly pushed Martin away from his pit.
Martin followed his command. Leon cleared his throat, and hocked out a huge ball of gob straight into the soon-to-be thrall's mouth. The latter swallowed it eagerly.
"Tell me, who are you?", asked Leon with satisfaction glinting in his eyes and a grin plastered on his face.
"I am your thrall, Master," it took the thrall quite a while to response. His voice had dropped an octave lower, and his facial features were realigning. His sandy blond hair, the result of last night's practice, had turned completely dark. Coarse hair started to sprout from a chin that was perfectly smooth just moments ago, covering the entirety of his jaw to form a thick bushy beard.
"What's your name?"
The thrall looked blankly. No answer. His face resembled Leon more and more.
"Your name is Leon Weber."
"My name is Leon Weber," his voice was almost indistinguishable from Leon. Only the articulation sounded a little off.
"Good boy."
The expression seen on the face of the skinnier, off-looking copy of Leon changed from blank to content.
"Now show me a good time". He slowly revealed his hefty, hardened member, and the thrall dove in. Â Â
Leon was gentle, as it took 'Leon' some time to get used to the size. The former grinned, satisfied at the result of his handiwork. The two spectators standing nearby were also enjoying the view as they started stroking each other.
The change was becoming more noticeable when 'Leon' got to the base. His shoulders were broader, thighs bulging out, neck thicker, veins showing up all along his arms and legs.
By the time the room was all but a vortex of carnal desire, only two archetypes remained, each with one original and one copy.
Leon was having a good time, and as reward, he gifted the thrall his seed.
The last unchanged part of 'Leon', his package, received his master's essence. The rod thickened and lengthened. The weight between his legs filled up and drooped down. The transformation was complete.
Adrian, having just finished his session with his own thrall, plopped in the couch alongside Leon. 'Adrian' followed him to his feet.
"Now we're equal", Adrian said smugly to Leon.
âźâźâźâźâź
'Leon' and 'Adrian' settled into their newly assigned roles with unimaginable speed. To the public, whose opinion of them had never been favourable to begin with, nothing had really changed. Their simple routine of being a nuisance was known by everybody.
Being hot. Being dumb. Being rich. Working out. Speeding around. Getting sloshed. Fucking men. In that exact order. Rinse and repeat.
Behind the curtains, 'Leon' and 'Adrian' gleefully put their bodies to use for their masters. It was a small price to pray for all the privileges they had earned.
They had found what they sought.
Credits:
[character - base model]
Adrian - affine warp of Philippe BĂŠlanger and Waldo Rubio MartĂn
Have you ever heard of Doppelgangers or Mimics? You know, the one where you supposedly die if you ever encounter your own? Let me tell you a story about my experience with Doppelgangers and the truth about them.
It all started with Lee Hastings. A bully... no, bully is much too light a word to describe him. No, no... Lee was a tyrant who terrorized the people around him. He was born into a wealthy family, raised with absent parents who showered him with money to compensate, and devoted his body to beauty to make him seem desirable to the people he wanted.
Like most tormentors, Lee had a particularly nasty grudge against an innocent young man. Norman was nothing but an average guy who so happened to go to the same school as him. Their eyes met one day in the hallway and Lee decided he didn't like the guy.
Every chance he could get he would torment the poor kid. And because of his monetary influence and large body, there was little others could do to help. He thought leaving town would be enough, but sadly his bully would have the same idea.
The two had lived in the same city after, running into each other occassionally. Norman did not have the funds or opportunities to leave once more so he just prayed he never ran into him at all. But it was as if luck hated him so.
On his day off, he decided to go to the pool, where unfortunately the man was on his own pool day to show off his skin. It was on sight.
Norman was immediately thrown into a pool and relentlessly humiliated in front of kids.
It got so bad that Norman had gotten so paranoid that he'd reach out to a friend of his to see if there was anything he could do about Lee. I don't know the details, but he was given a device. Some sort of pin. He was told to prick the man and it would do the rest.
Norman didn't ask for details, but when Lee went for round two of play drowning him, Norman pricked the guy in the arm and got out of the pool quickly. Lee had gotten out to go to the bathroom.
And that's where I come in.
Doppelgangers rarely come out on their own. There has to be a way to force them out or they have to be strong enough to do so. And when they do, they often come out wrong and repeat phrases. THe reason why people die when they see their doppelganger is because they're consumed but it ends up destroying their presence as well.
This pin was a way to bridge the doppelganger out from the person into the real world.
I am Lee Hastings.
Or rather, a hypothetical version of him.
Many say that there are alternate worlds that could be opened and explored, with alternate versions of ourselves existing from branching realities. But there is little way to interact with alternate realities and we end up with what ifs.
I am the What If of a Lee who did not let power turn him into a monster. I come from a world where I used my loneliness to build bonds, not flaunt my money. Even if it was just a theory, it was way more human than what the real me was. But now, that pin ejected me out of that theory into a living person.
At least, from what I understand, I can be living. The technology for this is not completely perfect. I must claim the humanity that Lee Hastings has forsaken. I have to become real.
When Norman saw me, his instinct was to try and run. But I caught him before he could even shift his feet.
"Please... No more..." From my theoretical reality, Norman was my friend. To see him cower in my sight pained me.
"I'm not him." I say.
He stares back at me in confusion, and then to my arm. Presumably to look for the pin wound. "What do you mean."
"I'm not the Lee Hastings you know." I smile at him. "Not yet."
"What are you going to do?" He asks, not questioning if this was real. I think at this point he just wants to believe.
I stare towards the locker room. "Lee" is most likely there. The pin gave me all the knowledge I needed to know.
"You'll see."
As I predicted, Lee Hastings was flexing in front of a locker room mirror. So vain and deprived of humility. It makes me sick. I understand the feeling of loving your body, but he borderlined on lust.
I locked the door behind me. Not that I needed to. I'm aware he paid off the staff to let him use the room for himself.
"Hey! I said this place was mine for another 20 minutes. You guys want to get hurt?"
He didn't even look up to check his reflection to see me standing behind him. He was chuckling to himself as he sent his selfies to random hook ups on dating apps.
I grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. His phone dropped as I slammed him onto the mirror.
"Woah what's your... deal?" His eyes widened as he found himself staring right at me. His mind tried to comprehend what was happening as he stared down at me.
"What the fuck- Who the fuck are you supposed to be?"
"You"
I grabbed his arm, where the pin had pricked him, and restrain his other arm with my free hand. He winced as I pulled myself closer. I could feel it, his shape' 's reality becoming more unstable.
"What's going on?!" He shouted. "He-"
I slam my head onto his forehead, then plant my lips to his. I need him quiet, but I can't take my hands off his arms. What's a little self love, I say.
He squirms hard but unable to fight his own strength. He felt like putty as I began grinding my body closer to him. I could feel it, the connection of our existence undoubtedly synced. I could feel his desperation and his energy slowly fading. His limbs stiffening as his essence began to fade from the physical plane. Our breaths completely in tune.
"Mmph." His eyes shut, his tongue now playing with mine.
His cock hardened as it continued, the sync unintentionally hardening mine in the process.
This was it. I closed in, forcing his body and essence to sink down into mine. Slowly, our heads began melding into one shape and his vocals began to fade. His pecs and abs, which were pressed against mine sank as I felt the last of his breath enter my lungs. His hard dick momentarily merged with my own, making me moan out for a bit before it stabilized. My arms gripped nothing and there alone I stood in front of the mirror.
Lee Hastings. Or at least, I almost am.
W-What's going on? Where am I? Why can't I move?
His thoughts echoed in my head.
"You're still here? Well, not for long."
The face in the mirror expressed his fear but could not move his mouth unless I did.
Please. Don't do this. I can give you money. Is that what you want?
"I own your money. Well, my money." I smirk. "I'm Lee Hastings."
You're not! I'm Lee Hastings!
"You're about to become a theory, that's what you are."
I lower my swim shorts and grab my cock. The expression in the mirror was horrified as he's forced to copy me as I jerked his precious tool off.
"You don't deserve to be in control. You were barely human."
His pleading began to intensify into screams as I huffed in my pleasure. In between his screams I could feel the hidden pleasure his mind's voice echoed as I siphoned his humanity into me.
"Once... I finish... you'll be ejected... from this... reality..." I grunt as I sped up my stroke's pace. "You'll be... just... a... hypothetical..."
Stop! You can't do this! NO!
Our eyes closed as I felt my chest heat up. I felt the warmth envelop my cock. I felt his awful memories and his actions fill up my brain and show me his reality. A reality that would no longer be. I felt it go down, slowly as if what remained of his essence began to get sifted out.
WE screamed as I finally came, hot jizz splattering all over the mirror. The cum poured out of me in waves, slowly ejecting the former Lee Hasting's memories and reality with it. His voice gradually faded out of me as he's flushed out into the world of What Ifs.
Now just a theory of Lee Hastings if he was a horrible man.
I looked down at my cum filled hand and then up at my reflection. Its face... My face followed my every emotion I projected. I bring up the cum to my mouth, tasting a salty, near foul cum that permeated my tongue. Even as cum, he was bad.
I pick up my phone, taking a picture of this moment. The moment where I am granted humanity the imposter neglected.
"Hey!" I hear a voice from outside. "Lee, are you in there? We've got one day off. Stop screwing around and go swimming with me."
It was Norman. My friend.
I smiled, my reality dominating over that cruel nightmare he must have endured. My mind, flowing with memories of what is now undoubtedly true.
I'm real.
~~
Hey! Etoile Cyber here!
Just a little something different from my usual stuff.
A bit inspired from the game The Alters.
Hope you like it!
CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes. If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.
Veilbreaker - Dryads
Dryads were fascinating beings. Nymphs bound to a tree for the rest of its life, they could not stray too far from it without risking their life force, and if one died, the other would too.
Because of these restrictions, when all other creatures departed, the dryads had no choice but to remain with the trees that had witnessed their arrival into this world, and which would also see them depart.
Despite their originally peaceful and benevolent nature, years upon years of human abuse of nature had made them somewhat... spiteful.
The massive deforestation, the blood spilled by fellow dryads across the globe, and the pollution of the forests had caused their fury to grow uncontrollably, much like global warming. Any human lost within the confines of their realms would be a lost relic to the rest of the world.
Adam loved hiking. He had seen so many magnificent places on his adventures hiking through forests, mountains, and other landscapes; it seemed he was a kind of all-terrain vehicle, capable of reaching the very top of a mountain if he so desired.
He was always looking for new places to visit, and that day was no exception. For months he had planned a visit to the Giant Sequoia Forest in California. It was a magical place, with giant trees nearly 100 meters tall and almost millennia old. He longed to walk through that almost sacred terrain, to let his lungs inhale all that clean air, and the photographs! That was undoubtedly what excited him most of all, to fill his eyes with the beauty of the verdant landscape.
He set off with a firm step. He hadn't considered hiring any guided tour services; he wanted to explore on his own. Of course, he was mindful of protected or restricted areas, and would only stay on the designated safe paths (though he didn't consider what was "safe" for humans to be necessarily safe for âeveryoneâ). He moved, observing the treetops above him, the giant trunks, the entire aroma that enveloped the place, until when he turned around, the tourists who had been numerous before, the bustle, and the other workers in the area had simply... vanished.
Adam looked around, with a mixture of fascination and fear. The entire surrounding forest seemed to be just for him. Had he really gone that far?
â Uh... Hello? Hello?! â he raised his voice, hoping for some response, even if it was just his own echo. Only birdsong answered him. He cleared his throat, trying not to make too much of it, and continued along the rocky, somewhat earthen path.
He kept going, feeling as if he were starting to walk in circles. Was he... lost? The forest couldn't be that big. Or could it? His fingers trembled, and he began to regret not following a guide. His feet twisted occasionally as the terrain became more uneven. The trees were also gradually changing shape; they were no longer just sequoias. The trunks were all different â some thick, some long, some short, some small â and the leaves changed color as well. But the strangest thing, without a doubt, was the atmosphere.
What had once seemed a divine place, full of light, warmth, and a sacred aura, now had a somber, eerie appearance, with that air as if Adam had wandered into something he shouldn't have.
The guy made one last attempt to get his bearings, taking a step back when something cracked. The sound was wet but harsh, like a bamboo stalk snapping in two. Adam looked down, terrified, only to realize he was standing on top of enormous roots. Where was the path? Where-?
Something wrapped around his leg, gripping him tightly, like an octopus. It lifted him off the ground and slammed him down repeatedly. Try as he might to cling to the very branches that were shaking him, it was useless.
â Fuck! â He closed his eyes, anticipating another blow that struck him with even greater force. He felt like everything was spinning, letting out pained groans until he spat out a little crimson liquid that seeped into the earth.
As if activated, the roots shifted their focus, seizing him by every limb and tearing at his clothes. His backpack fell to the ground amidst desperate gasps, the wood scraping his skin. He tried to muster all his strength to struggle, but he was a wooden stick compared to the raw power that coiled around him like yarn. The man screamed in panic as the vines swirled around his head, some roots digging directly into his mouth, nose, and ears, silencing any cries for help.
The torrent of wooden serpents seemed to subside, transforming him into a cocoon covered in wood and sap. He descended slowly as the roots parted the earth, allowing him to pass through like a sarcophagus. The moment he touched the ground, the roots regrouped to envelop him completely.
The tranquility of the forest returned: the sound of birds, the wind rustling through the treetops, the scent of moss, andâŚ
â UGHHHHH! â A hand emerged from the earth, covered in dirt, mud, and shredded moss. The roots shifted back again as whatever was emerging from the ground forced its way through, its fingers digging deep, slowly burying itself until a head emerged, desperate for air.
It continued to move forcefully until the torso came out, muscular and slender, its skin dirty and with an earthy tinge. The pectorals glistened slightly from the soil as it managed to surface, its arms and biceps bulging. Its agile, thick legs also emerged before its clumsy feet began to walk on the earth for what seemed to be the first time. It fell to its knees, struggling, resembling a worm more than anything else.
â S-sh-sh-it⌠â he muttered as best he could, though his voice sounded like a jumble of several voices. He grunted, trying to clear his throat, stretched a little, cracking his neck, grinning, and throwing his shoulders back in an almost unnatural way. From the outside, he looked exactly like Adam, but... this wasn't Adam.
The imposter stretched his arms forward, palms facing him. His eyes were fascinated by what he saw: his long, athletic fingers, the perfect nails now buried in a mound of dirt. He let out a hysterical laugh, clutching his face eagerly and kicking his legs with a mixture of clumsiness and excitement. He was euphoric, as if no previous moment could compare to what he was feeling in that moment.
â Heh â he said, his voice much more natural. He pressed his throat slightly, opening his mouth to murmur at a frequency almost inaudible to anything that wasn't green within a 38-kilometer radius. Then he stuck out his long, thick tongue, holding it between his fingers and moving it as if trying to figure out what it was for. He looked more like a brainless dog â I... Adam, I... am human.
He nodded a little, finally letting go of his tongue to lower his gaze to the rest of his body's splendor: his thick pecs, those hardened areolas standing straight against the air, his abs, which he counted one by one, hard as oak, his legs, and... Oh! The guy gripped the shaft of his tool tightly, letting out a guttural groan, almost guided only by feeling. He thrust back and forth, lost in the sensation. He bit his lower lip, sliding his hand down to start playing with his balls, panting like crazy.Â
â Mfhhhh! â he grinned, lost in his sensations. His face wore a stupid expression, his eyes half-rolled, his tongue lolling out, his hand still moving like a piston in a mechanical back-and-forth motion, grunting desperately â Ufhhhhh!
His other hand slapped his buttocks hard, and he began to whip himself. His behavior was erratic and desperate; anyone else who saw him would surely think he was crazy or had completely lost his mind, but luckily for him, this wasn't the same forest Adam had entered.
As soon as he separated from the group, the forest itself began to draw him in, drawing him closer to the heart of the sacred, a place where no human could enter without authorization. The staff and guides knew this, having been so distracted by the large number of visitors that they hadn't noticed a poor tourist stray from the usual path and vanish into thin air.
The imposter gave a sharp tug, wrapping his palm around the tip of his obelisk, rubbing it until it let out an excited squeak, a thick, whitish, and foul-smelling substance that seemed to be sap oozing out like a stream.
â MFHHHH! OH, SHIT! â He burst into laughter, his substance mingling with the ground, sinking rapidly until the forest seemed to creak. Adam's body shuddered, his eyes rolling back as if in a trance. He licked his lips, spasming, feeling his mind light up. Memories, skills, personality, vices, routine, fears, feelings â everything was being etched into his mind as if someone were carving wood with a knife. He shook like the trees swaying in the wind.
â Mfhhhh! â he smiled, closing his eyes until the forest no longer felt so heavy and full. He cracked his neck again, stretching and breaking into a smile â Woah... This feels good â He flexed his arms forcefully, patting them, his voice 100% identical to Adam's. No one could tell the difference, and no one would know.
The new man started walking barefoot to a nearby stream to cleanse himself. He had to get rid of all the dirt.
â Damn, here you are! We thought you were lost and... Is everything alright-?
â Better than ever! I just strayed a little from the path, but nothing to worry about.
Adam flashed a mocking smile, making sure to flex those impressive biceps he now had, all the while stroking the trees around him as if trying to send them a message.
â I, uh⌠â the guide tried to say something but didn't know where to begin, whether with the other man's shirtlessness, or with those tempting pecs now on full display, how his biceps bulged and his slender, elegant body was in all its glory.
â I'm fine, handsome â he gave him a light punch on the shoulder before moving behind him â Better make sure another tourist doesn't get lost, you never know what... might happen. Right?
The new Adam's plan was to return to his town, settle down, and enjoy the peace for a while until it was time to act.
The humans had no idea what awaited them, but the verdant being certainly intended to repay them for so many centuries of continuous abuse, so much disregard for his kind. "Adam" simply had to wait for the rest of his people to do what they had to do.
It was only a matter of time. But in the meantimeâŚ
----
Hey everyone!
I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it.
Remember that in the coming months, I'll mostly be posting summer-themed stories. Other series you enjoy, like Haunted, Slipped, and others, will still be available, but I'll try to give them a more summery feel. I hope you're enjoying it!
Also, I've just launched my profile on X! There I'll be posting shorter things like ideas, captions, and snippets of stories, so you can get a taste of the more "intense" and "real" content you'll find on my Patreon (which has all the fantasies you're looking for). I invite you to follow me!
Possession, body swapping, and hipnosis' writer. Nice to meet you, I'm StarBoy.
DM for credit or removal.
All characters and models are over
I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages. See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?
Brent was remarkably chill given the circumstances. One far too unresearched shapeshifting spell and couple important key substitutions in the potion and here Marty was.
One couldnât approach magic with the mindset of a cook Marty found. It was much more like baking, where one couldnât just add some cherry coke to the strand of Hunk hair in place of the virgins blood.
Marty had wanted to be Brent since he was a kid. Theyâd grown up together on each otherâs periphery, Marty the nerdy quiet kid and Brent the confident town beloved athlete. Where as Brent would go on to score a winning job and a hot wife, Marty worked from home alone.
âIt wasnât supposed to be like thisâ Marty said to the head now firmly attached to him. The half of his body that wasnât his. The hard rod dominating his own under their mismatch of clothes.
âYou didnât want to have my bodyâ Brent said, teasing. Flirting, like he did with everyone. Probably. He always did it with Marty at least. Who was nobody
âNot like thisâ Marty defended. The spell shouldâve put him in Brentâs body and done away with the original. He just had to get creative with it.
It seemed to work until the changes traveled up from his torso. Slowly converting from left to right, replacing Martyâs mountaineering scars with Brentâs untouched perfect skin. Then it had frayed and moments later a fresh new copy of Brentâs head was sprouting from his own.
âIf I knew you were this obsessed with me, we couldâve just skipped this part you knowâ Brent said and Marty could feel the guys smile stretch his own face where they connected. He couldnât even look at the guy with how their skulls merged. Not that it was comfortable. It disturbingly was uncomfortable at all.
âYouâre just saying that because youâre some freak mutationâ Marty said. The real Brent was out there unaffected by Marty. The real Brent wouldnât get off to this like his new body mate clearly was
âHmâ Brent said, in thought. âYou donât think I could convince you.â He said, reaching for their cocks.
Marty didnât stop him
âAlways wondered how yours looked honestlyâ the parasite said in Brentâs beautiful voice. âNot as big as mine, but damn does it feel heavyâ he said, push his palm past their fused pants and past the amalgam of boxer and jock strap that held the two stiff towers down.
âBrent didnât like me like thatâ Marty whispered, as Brent seemed to delight in what he saw peering down. Marty was forced to look down too, at the dual cocks below, branching from a single point. Martyâs thick cock dwarfed by its much longer new twin.
Brent scoffed before taking to his new plaything. It was like a lightning bolt hit Marty, the feeling of Brentâs rough basketball calluses hands gripping it. Like euphoric sandpaper rubbing back and forth, gritting his teeth.
âSpeaking for myself, you're an idiot Martyâ he said, silencing any protests with another slick pump. âMuscular Marty is what we called you man, fuck the whole baseball team was listing after youâ he laughed.
âMysterious Marty, always so alluring from afarâ he teased, Marty unable to comprehend the words as he fought the urge to cum. He could feel Brentâs cock against Brentâs hand, the sensation of his knuckles against it. Fuck how was Brent still talking if he was feeling what Marty was feeling.
âMountaineer Marty, nerdy ass I wanted to pound since youâd first stared me downâ Brent mustâve have lied. It couldnât be true. âRuined that chance now, although this isnât all too badâ
âNot like the real Brent is goneâ Marty said and sentence broke his willpower.
Hot cum soaked their pants and dropped down onto their shoes. Naturally, Brentâs went off like a chain reaction, shooting its own geiser all the same.
âFuckâ they both said as the wave of euphoric heat raced through their body. It almost burned the sense out of them, unifying them in its afterglow
They sat there for a while breathing before Marty felt their lungs inhale for Brentâs coming comment.
âSo I could still fuck you in the ass?â He said, back to playful, even as the relaxed tiredness seeped into his tone.
âI guess technicallyâ Marty said, too happy to care about the parasitic Brent fused to him. âLike the real you I guessâ
âFuck yeah weâre calling himâ Brent said, quick filing the number into Martyâs phone before Marty could even blink.
âFuck no!â Marty shouted, before the real Brentâs voice came through.
This is the first in a series of (very short) shorts I may or may not do that involve taking a YouTube/etc. video with clones and turning it into a selfcest fic. The first is with the video "The Faux Pas" by Britanick. You may want to watch the video first but you don't have to.
Nick rubbed his neck. He was having trouble opening his eyes. All he could feel was his head and back resting on the corner where his bed and the wall intersected. He let out a small mumbling "what happened..." as he tried to collect his thoughts. As he was reassembling his memories, his eyes fluttered open and his memories were coming back to him.
"Oh, hell" Nick sighed. He just remembered that he kept using his time machine, and was putting his time clones to sleep one by one. "I guess I messed up again..." he whimpered to himself as he stretched.
Standing up, Nick looked around the room. He spotted 7 other Nicks currently unconscious. There was one in a chair by the door, one on the ground next to him, one on the bed, one in the closet, and three leaning on each other by the far wall. "How am I gonna explain this one..." he pondered "I wonder if future me finished my task..." Boggled, Nick approached the Nick sitting in the chair, who was in a deep sleep.
"Hey, me!" The awake Nick said jokingly as he placed his hand on his double's shoulder. The sitting Nick's loose maroon sweater draped off from Nick's hand. "Sorry about that Nick" Nick said nervously giggling. In some sort of strange trance, Nick's grab on Nick's shoulder turned into rubbing, and then into full-on massaging. For some reason, Nick was enjoying the feeling of rubbing his own shoulders.
Nick's intense massaging caused him to sweat. To relieve the heat, he removed his sweater, but that wasn't enough. He took of his periwinkle shirt, kicked off his shoes, unbuckled his belt, and pulled down his jeans, leaving him clad in only black boxer briefs (as seen in this video https://youtu.be/Wp6GWSpgyUI?t=26s) and his white socks. In a stupor, he jumped back to the chair and sat on his own lap, giving himself a huge kiss. As he continued, he heard a "what the fuck" from within the room. Looking over, the Nick who was within the closet had awoken. The Nicks moved until they stood face to face. Before the first Nick could blurt out "It's not what it looks like!" the other Nick started eagerly undressing. Nick started to excitedly laugh, and his double soon joined. Once they were both identically half-naked, they reached for each other and embraced before beginning to make out.
"Wait, Nick!" one Nick said as he pulled away. "What is it?" "Look around... you know what we have to do!" They both grew a sinister grin before breaking away. Each Nick went to one of the unconscious Nicks and stripped off their clothes. They continued until all eight Nicks in the room were in their boxer briefs. As they finished, the bed Nick had awoken. "Woah" he said as the other two awake Nicks jerked their head at him. "Mornin' sleepyhead!" they echoed. While at first the bed Nick was a little confused, once the other Nicks reached over to him, he smiled and grabbed on to their arms. They engaged in a three way hug followed by a three way kiss. Arms wrapped around each other, they moved back to the bed. They playfully rolled around on the bed while making jokes with their comedic selves.
"Wow Nick you kiss like a girl. Take that as compliment."
"How many Nicks does it take to screw in a lightbulb?" "You should be asking how many Nicks it takes to screw Nick."
As they continued, additional Nicks woke up, gasped, but then were entranced by the other Nicks. Seeing their slapping pale skin, brushing brown hair, and cute round eyes transformed their confusion into interest. Eventually, all eight Nicks were on the bed in one big Nick orgy. Identical giggles filled the room as Nicks groped, kissed, sucked, cuddled, and slapped each other.
When they finished up out of exhaustion, the Nicks made their way out of the room. Reaching the living room, they all jumped in surprise when they saw four more half-naked Nicks cuddling on the couch. Turns out it took a few more time jumps to complete his task.
"Looks like we got here just in the Nick of time" a Nick winked. "We couldn't help it." "Neither could we!" "So did Nick make a successful conversation?" "Well see... turns out you don't have to have perfect conversations with strangers." "Huh... go figure" all 12 said. "Where is the 'successful' Nick anyways?" "Over there sulking in the corner. It's hard to cheer him up." "Maybe it's hard with 4 Nicks, but with 12?" the Nicks cracked their knuckles "Should be a piece of cake."
They went over to a fully clothed Nick at the kitchen table, who's heading was resting in his hands. "I spent way too much time on that for nothing. Please leave me alone." "Aww Nick, you technically are alone. Alone with yourself." "Not helping." "That didn't help, but this will!" All 12 Nicks kissed this Nick, eventually cleansing him of his sorrows. He stripped with help from the other Nicks, and the 13 excited Nicks spent the rest of the day just having fun and sex.
Quickie: Jorkin it and by it I mean my dick (to make clones)
Joey duplicated every time he jerked off.
It didnât matter how or where. He would just be beating his meat watching gay porn and heâd hit that inevitable amazing climax. His orgasms were legendary of course, his body rewarding his fast tracked reproduction with a dopamine hit higher than the moon. It was like fire, the eruption of euphoria that was the feeling of feeling of cumming out a whole clone of himself. Immediately having the clone finish off the dregs of the cum that he was born out of. The two of them cuddling to watch more gay porn, mostly as a hobby.
Sad that the handsome batards only lasted with regular intake of his semen, but he was a responsible pet owner. If they were good they got to fill up on his fresh life force as much as they wanted.
Still, buying enough tracksuits was becoming a little financially annoying.
Heâs probably flush the older ones tomorrow, just because they were getting demanding. It was a shame almost, but only barely.
He wanted to describe the feeling as itchy, but it was too electrical in sensation, like it was charged. Every cell crackling and almost raring to pop, muscles tensing and untensing over and over. Like he could punch or kick through concrete on that high and watch the rock crumble before his eyes.
God it felt incredible.
It came with the strangest of disappointments. That he lost a coin flip that most would consider a win. That he stayed just Liam
The Liam standing where the jackhammer split his arm and not the Liam where his disembodied arm had fallen.
The other him, the copy, stilled writhed in the ecstasy of his existence. Transported as a carbon copy of the original, except doused from head to toe with the same power that charged the originalâs arm.
He tried to temper his FOMO as he watched his latest of his counterparts pick himself up, the guyâs grin wide yet slightly dazed. They always came out slightly confused. Stuck between the realization that they were no longer the original Liam and absolutely high off the sensation of their brain charged to infinity with a load of pure atomic energy.
âGod it feels so fucking goodâ the copy said, just as they all usually did, trying to convey it to the single version of them who would never feel it.
Liam gripped the guyâs hand, his hand, tight and pulled his fresh self into an embrace. As if he could absorbed the guy back into him and feel the charge they were all slave to.
It was an engine at the heart of the facility that was the real source of their addiction.
A Reconstituter was the simple term for it and it functioned like youâd expect. Supply it enough biomass and it could instantly fix whatever injury a hapless employee sustained when they fell, cut, stabbed or otherwise maimed themselves. No OSHA needed in a workplace like that.
Of course, Liamâs was an overreactive knockoff of the name brand, so the first time heâd gotten a finger sliced off by a buzzsaw, it healed him. A whole functional finger, fresh and electric on his hand. Then it healed his finger five feet away.
A bolt of lightning and the sliced end of the finger glowed, particles in the air charging and magnetizing towards it. Seconds later and there panting was a fully identical copy of Liam, naked and manically grinning to himself, completely high off the sensation. At least until the copyâs smile dimmed as his eyes locked with Liamâs.
Theyâd done the song and dance of clones. Panic, argue, then panic and argue more. Try to kill each other. Accidentally spawn another Liam when the original tried stabbed to deep and lobbed off his copyâs arm. Get instantly overpowered by two copies of himself and find themselves all hard at the feeling of their warm bodies wrestling on the factory floor. Really take a chance and begin sloppily making out with the first copy, even as the second cut off his hand with a rusty axe. Happy get throat fucked in two bodies by his doubles, all coming to a single dangerous realization.
You know, the usual.
Now it was just part of the job.
Not something that Liam necessarily should look forward to. They were still trying to dodge notice on the whole human duplication thing, so they tried to keep it a rounding error on his companyâs end. Enjoy finally having a crew and a pack of best mates all under the corporate radar.
Still, he was the happiest heâd ever been, isolated in a desolate factory a hundred miles from civilization. Helped that no one was around to stop him, except for himself.
Liam really did try to keep cloning himself to real workplace injuries. It was more of a resolution unfortunately, given Liamâs unfortunate combination of developing masochism and sadism combined with a machine that took out all risk from his (their) sexcapades. Especially when reconstituting on either end of the equation led to even more overpowering electric vigor to burn through.
Liam was at about 15 of him by now and that was with caution.
It had been 4 weeks of care and building tension.
It was 4 pm on a Friday though and the look burning into him by his brand new doppelganger promised a slew of bad decisions to come. Theyâd likely be up to 18 by the time the guyâs freshly cloned energy ran out. Then theyâd be fucked with 3 more copies on a weekend and all the time to indulge.
