The Replication Phenomenon
Mitosis felt good, like a full body message that releases a lifetime of tension. Matthew was tense after these past few weeks of nonstop work, so he’d needed some help with balancing the books and cussing out shit customers. Nature provided.
He could feel it the day before, scrubbing dishes in the back, that rare telltale feeling of tightness in his brain and chest. Saw the little crease of skin on his forehead and the ridge of bone beneath paired with that slight gap in between every action, like his movements needed to be decided upon by committee before they could be proceeded. An echo of neurons just ever so off synch on the same intentions.
He’d slept on it after eating more that he’d thought possible, a confused doordash driver shovelling bag after bag of cheap fastfood into his ravenous hands. The guy had eyed him up, seeing the tiny valley forming from Matthew ’s chin down, hearing the odd way a slowly doubling pair of lungs and vocal cords changed the man’s deeper voice. The man had just grinned at him and wished him well, Matthew catching the site of the man’s car down his drive way, a man dozing off in the driver’s seat clearly bored from waiting.
A perfectly identical man tapping on the wheel, same clothes, same hair, same everything.
He’d passed out scrolling Youtube, having already deepdived WebMD for all its worth as his dinner got confused between which throat it should travel down. His vision just ever so confused as the irises widened, a second pupil splitting off in a perfect simulation of a dividing cell.
1/4th of the population experienced Replication in some form or another in their lifespan. It was a strange an unpredictable process with a thousand names in every culture, spanning history. Even the most primitive form of humanity felt its effect, finger paintings of twinned men and women in every combination that division would produce. It was so impossible to be always divine or demonic, religions never deciding whether to be hateful or worshipping to the doubled individuals in their halls.
Once Kane had killed Abel, God had spited the action by pulling him in two, a simulacrum of brotherhood he’d spoken. Yet Jesus’s earliest miracles was splitting James his cousin into a greater and lesser pair, forming an absolute mess of beliefs to dictate the view of duplicates in this god-fearing country. An evil curse or something that created an unequal pair of doubles. That or it was still a pagan thing, witches in the night spilling potions and elixirs with the essence of the Morrigan, the Morai, the Norns, Janus and the wicked Furies.
The advice portion on WebMD told him to drink water and relax, listing every way his mitosis could conclude. Positive outcomes were the greatest majority, links to 100 years worth of articles describing the healthiness of the process. Alcmaeon of Croton said it balanced the humors, the excess shared between two bodies. A study from last year described a vast decrease in stress and negative health effect associated with the dualism movement, a recent and legal trend that acknowledged the lack of initial individuality between doubles.
He remembered a two headed lawyer arguing for a ruling outlawing another remaining individuality bill, something related to distinguishing duplicates between different legal identities. He hardly remembered it all, although now he wished he could.
Matthew was thankful he wouldn’t mostly deal with the perception of a lesser or greater James to his new selves, so far removed from old bible bullshit still hot and concentrated in the distant south. He’d fallen into unconsciousness with two sides of his brain imagining the mirror of himself, unable to feel the differences between each other as intentions were predicted, body temperatures and heart beats identical. Unable to feel any difference in themselves
His dreams that night were pleasant, but strange. Two perspectives to every stray thought, old friends passing notes in class. He was doing the taxes he put off, his hands multiplying, scribbling numbers down at rapid efficiency. Grinning to himself through three mouths. Going further than grinning.
He’d woken up what felt like two times, blearily feeling his brain(s) coming to awareness before lazily shifting to look in his bedroom mirror. His facial features danced, stretched between two forming skulls, the desynchrony in his mind now two minds struggling to be one as a quarter of their brains was still shared. He had three eyes now, one sat between the two originals, two pupils in it that couldn’t decide whether it belonged to the right or left. They’d swallowed, one after the other, necks still one, yet separate beneath, two adams apples moving up and down, sliding aginst each other.
Their body felt tight, but not in an uncomfortable way. Hell, if Matthew had remained like this, feeling doubled musculature beneath his skin, he wouldn’t feel mad. Half of him wanted to stretch as they lay there, the other agreeing through the echo of thoughts as two pairs of biceps squeezed against each other beneath their arms. They looked through multiplying eyes at their bare chest, all that multiplicity beneath deceptively appearing as if they’d been taking steroids their whole lives. It wasn’t a perfect disguise though, given the way actual division pocked through.
A quite literal poking that was, a glance at the dual monsters making their boxers tight showing two tips peeking through the nylon.
It hadn’t taken negotiation to relieve themselves, although deciding which one was first had been a battle. A meaningless one, considering that while their erections were seemingly split down to the base between their forming sides, both cocks were happy to provide a slew of sensation to both forming minds, whether they stroked the left or right.
They’d taken to one then the other, one equally full stream of cum shooting from each from their doubled balls, four testicles beneath their shared ballsack. Their sweaty palm felt the same yet different in its grip, stronger and bigger, two people’s worth of tendons and strength overlaid and making every motion just that little bit unpredicatable. One dick being slowly messaged as the other felt fingers pass by it, a sensation like they’d never imagined.
They’d cleaned up with unsteady steps towards the bathroom, struggled through an upright piss through two penises before staring far too long into the mirror. An hour lost to a morning stress relief and yet in that time, their body had already changed again. A chin and nose became two as their hair thickened at the top, follicles rapidly producing hair to eventual distribute between two scalps.
Matthew tried to grin, but there were less pretty things about replication relating to the teeth and bones that were better left unsaid. He’d attempt to talk though, but with two tongues battling for control over syllables, it was a fruitless effort.
Any grin or reassurance was unnecessary. He’d been worried the night before as any person should be. Sharing was a scary thing, especially with personhood. The interviews he’d found online had been right though. It wasn’t scary at all.
A HGTV star showed off his change on screen, reveling in his new “improved” self to his adoring audience. Twin heads taking turns at how it felt, how easy the transition was. Flexing their shared muscles, paired with copious shots of them swinging a hammer at dry wall and the like. Soft porn for the middle-aged woman, as well as Matthew.
A basketball star who’d split just a little more, animatedly talked to a reporter who’d found him at a community court. They only shared a pair of legs, yet Matthew had seen them deftly play through so many games, two men from the waist up abusing their two pairs of arms to pass and shove. In fact, nearly half the athletes on the field were doubled in some way, replication just another factor to a great athlete like height and strength.
Perfect dupes were the most common and Matthew had seen enough of them in his life to know they never seemed to have problems. It was an almost annoying thing to witness, like a pair of twins so codependent as if they were competing against every other pair of complete dupes to be the best clone stereotype. The door dasher before an excellent example, likely having a closet of two pairs of every item, fulfilling the oddest psychological need to be identical that was ingrained in every dupe. Getting their hair cut, piercing their ears, getting tattoos by the splattering of specialized locals, cared for by similarly duplicated pairs of service workers.
Matthew had thought it so bizarre, yet even as he did his damned best at cleaning up his beard, just the thought of the two halves of his splitting face having a difference ate a little at him. A thought of difference that now seemed so alien as to be laughable. Logic was there stating that it didn’t matter, but his instinct said it did.
Humanity had an obsession with enforcing distinction and Matthew was thankful he’d never have to face experiencing this in any other time. There wouldn’t be an original or copy dictated by a authoritarian government, or a lesser and greater self-assigned by the church. Practices of trying to manipulate a replication had been mostly outlawed, no people trying to force a person back into one or any medical practices to force a partial dupe into a complete dupe.
The Matthews ate breakfast as their shared eye slowly split and their noses separated. They were fortunate to be a relate fast duplicator, a part of both of him praying that this ease didn’t mean they were predisposed to repeated duplications, the greater part of them hoping for it.
Cooking had felt nice, humming coming from two voices as they fumbled a song both half remembered. It was still a hulking meal, although they were now of two minds to multitask the doubled portions. Food eventually settling in whatever was going on with their stomach(s), leaving them a satisfied man.
They’d gotten dressed in loose stretchy clothes, pulling on a pair of joggers and some comfortable slip-on sneakers. Medical advice stated they continue on with their day as they were best able, so they’d gone through their morning routine, even as they felt their chest widening and as the skin on their neck tighten as it began to separate. They’d gone on their morning run, any clumsiness from the morning gone as even as their brains now seemed fully separate, their muscle memory was alive and well. They were sure they had multiple lungs now, given how easily they shrugged off any sense of physical exertion, their compounded muscles having caused 14 miles to feel like 1.
They’d finished half out of boredom as they settled in their garage, focused on the tightness of their sneakers and joggers as they dozed off. It was enough to distract the two from the obvious, their heads having diverge at some point in the run, temples now resting against each other as they leaned against their old workout bench.
They’d noticed it when one of them had satisfied sighed and the other had woken up just enough from the post-run stupor. He’d glanced as much as he could at the other, half surprised even if he shouldn’t have been. The other had the same expression, taken aback yet unable to look away.
“Hello” Matthew had said, both of their voices ringing out. It felt awkward until it didn’t just a moment ago. “Nice to meet you Mat” they both said, laughing after it came out in sync. It felt good where it should’ve felt strange. Instincts were a hell of a drug.
“Mom’s going to fucking flip man” his other self said. They hadn’t told anyone what was happening, half hoping for a surprised reaction and half nervous. No one in his family had replicated in recent history, so he’d be the first. His sister had a kid and he supposed he’d make up for the asexual reproduction.
“Imagine Dad’s reaction” he suggested, already visualizing his ridiculous old man screwing up pronouns for his new pair of duplicated sons. “He’s going to vomit he’ll be so confused” his other self said fondly, thinking back to his part of sexual education where they’d awkwardly fit in replication and his father had tried to explain to a 9 year old Matthew how that worked. Didn’t help that the guy didn’t know himself.
They’d be good sports about it though, given they were a rare pair of liberal boomers. They’d be embarrassing sure, but he wasn’t worried about their reaction.
“Still don’t want to call them though” his other self said as if reading his mind. Their similar thoughts would never stop and Matthew wondered how living would be like from now on. Another guy with identical worries and hang-ups to him.
“Nah” he agreed, imagining if his other self was just as scared of telling anyone as him. They were different now, not clones like a sci-fi movie and a whole world of differences away from being twins or brothers. Research had shown that dupe’s brains never really diverged in the long term, never reaching that point when they could be called separate people. Especially if they never fulling split, although given their collar bones already felt a little tautly built and a third peck was forming on their chest, they were pretty sure they wouldn’t remain just a two headed man.
He wasn’t afraid of sharing being Matthew, but he was terrified of everyone else. His sister would hug him and her kid would love having kinda two uncles. His brother-in-law would be a toss up of being uncomfortably curious or completely apathetic and his grandparents were a complete mystery, apolitical wild cards that they were.
He’d have to go into work and explain to his boss. The woman was kind enough, but legally being enforced to raise his pay according to his degree of replication was always a messy situation. Same with trying to juggle this new life with all of his friends and acquittances.
Dating especially was daunting, now more so than before. Steven had left him just 2 months ago, a stressor that likely contributed to his replication in the first place. Loneliness was the greatest contributor to duplicate formation and he could only imagine his ex’s pleased reaction to thinking Matthew had coped by multiplying.
“How can I feel so worried about this shit, yet also excited” his other self said, sighing as he ran on of their hands through his hair. He paused afterwards before running it through Matthew ’s head in turn, making a part of his newly own heart melt a bit.
“Steven’s going to call this extreme narcissism you know” he commented. The fucker never liked dupes, probably some misplaced anger from his duped father and mother, never having time for him despite their doubled status. Matthew wondered if that’s why they broke up now, Steven smelling the signs so soon.
“He’s a dick though and I think I’m fine with being self -obsessed now” he said, not bothering with whatever internal dialogue they were playing out with two voices. The other him laughed and Matthew wasn’t even embarrassed when his cock hardened against its twin. Was hard to be self-conscious when that other cock hardened just the same moment later.
“Yeah, I’d imagine we’ll be pretty self-involved for a bit” one of them said, both absent minded touching their cocks already rearing to go so soon after their morning masturbation session. Precum already wet their slightly uncomfortable joggers, the pants now stretched a little too tight as their legs were itching to begin actually splitting.
“Don’t get carried away bucko” he said for the both of them, getting up from their place sweating in the garage. It wouldn’t do to get lost in this advanced masturbating before some key steps. First of all, shrugging off these remaining clothes.
The sneakers were a bitch to get off, the old pair ripping off to reveal his feet with a couple too many toes than before, a little oddly shaped for the doubling of the ankles and the properly dividing musculature. They’d inspected the shoes and noticed their hands, extra fingers appearing in secret, a thumb doubling before their eyes as it widened and split. It looked alien, yet was simple to control to roughly shrug off their joggers, even as their appendages split at random.
Their legs were both wide, the freedom from their fabric prisons allowing the bones to enlarge then separate. It was rapid, leaving them only the time to get to their couch before the tingly sensation of rapid skeletal growth left them largely immobile.
It was sensory hell, yet their erections remained, somehow getting larger as they lay there, feeling as if they were costumed in each other. Their legs all but separate aside from the skin, joined to a waist that seemed ready to split itself if only for their cocks that were at the moment refusing to move, if only so they could release again.
Both Matthew s desperately hoped no one looked at them through their patio door as they furiously worked at their cocks in their living room. They’d realized as the cum streaked over their chest again that they’d been able to jack off both with their dominant hand due to it completely splitting at some time in the process. Identical right hands now wet with sum were held up in front of their eyes as they sat their ass naked. A distraction enough for a moment before their satisfied cocks decided to stop resisting the rest of the duplication and the world shifted again.
Matthew felt his cock sink, its sensitive skin post ejaculation feeling like electricity as it was pulled beneath the muscles of his crotch, dragging two of their four testicles with it. The other Matthew reacted as if it truly did disappear, momentarily yelping as one of their hands touched the now empty space.
Matthew ’s waist separated from behind and he drew his new singularly his cock and balls out of the other guy’s ass, the immature part of him giving a brief shove with it against the other guy’s prostate to make him yelp again.
“Fuck do that again” his duplicate said, although Matthew was rendered unable as the separation between their waists quickly travelled up their body, his abdomen and chest pushing out from his duplicates back, feeling their muscle fibers and blood vessels untangled. Matthew only had the brief urge to hold his breath before his head was pull back as well, feeling as if he was being born as they truly separated, awkward splayed hands and feet parting to leave them a mess of limbs atop each other on their now messy couch.
A complete duplication, an incredible yet messy (legally and emotional) affair. Incomplete duplications were just as chaotic, but there was some comfort in always knowing where your double was, attached to you in some form. Matthew now felt an otherworldly sense of unease as he held his double as he breathed steadily through the exertion beneath him. A part of his soul atop him, able to wander off if he so chose.
It felt vulnerable and Matthew wished he could just hold the other guy close. The other guy seemed fine with it, happy to push himself back down onto the man, nestled deep. Sneakily pushing Matthew ’s cock into himself as if it would emerge back out of his waist.
They’d get up some time, probably to shut the blinds to then get back onto the couch. When they actually got up though they’d nervously wait for their order of clothes to arrive, wearing whatever they had in duplicate that was already in their closet. They’d call their parents, call their boss, send a inquiry to their state department about their completed replication. Arrange to get a new pair of ID card, both of them in squeezed together into a single shitty photo.
They’d masturbate again, figure out how it felt in two bodies rather than 1 ½ and 1.9999 bodies. Meal prep and update their dating profile, check the box that said duplicated and scroll through other men who were just like them in circumstance.
But for now, they would sit here, comfortable and sleepy. Ignore the complications oncoming and cuddle, hot and heavy against each other.
Still Matthew, alone together and so much more.