Cloning Noah

by KevLobs

A man endeavors to fulfill his ultimate sexual fantasy: cloning himself.

Opening the door to my darkened apartment, I’m surprised to see it bathed in a bright green glow. I take my shoes off and look back. It’s emanating from the center of my apartment where the dining table would have been if I hadn’t pushed it all the way to the windows.

“I thought I turned you off,” I think out loud and then, after taking a few steps in the darkness, I hit a hard, metal toolbox with my foot.

“Ow! Shit!” The place is a mess. I’m grateful for the open concept, which gives me plenty of space to work with, but the entire front room is littered with parts and tools. I tiptoe the rest of the distance, careful to avoid stabbing myself in the foot with screws and nails, and finally I get to my baby, the machine. I switch off the power and make my way to the nearby wall to properly light the studio.

Bam. My eyes have to adjust but there she is. The culmination of my past few years. Before my eyes is a sometimes painfully familiar sight, a massive, polished, steel cylinder, resting horizontally on a wooden stand to keep it from rolling away. I installed a control panel to the top last month, out of which sprouts multitudes of wires haphazardly connecting to all sides of the machine. That’s the last thing I’ve done, and I figure it should be the last task in the construction process, so I had just stepped out for dinner to celebrate.

I built the machine for one purpose and one purpose only. If all goes right and my calculations are in order, with this machine I should be able to achieve the impossible: the first complete and comprehensive clone of a human life form. And I shall be the test subject.

I suppose that’s the first part of the procedure. I found that I need to keep the inside of the tube completely sterile to allow for future experiments, and in case this first time doesn’t go to plan. So, in order to do that, after the body is formed, I will have to teleport it, or him, out of the machine. It’s not impossible, like one might first assume. The Chinese teleported an electron from Earth to one of their space stations. Using that procedure I’ll be able to easily empty the contents of my machine and keep the inside in perfect condition. That’s hopefully what I just accomplished, anyways.

I never went to college, though. I’ve naturally been smart, top of my class and all that. Right out of high school, I incorporated the startup I’d built in my garage into a full-fledged company. I used my knowledge of coding and AI to build self-driving vehicles and other ‘innovative’ advancements. I sold the company to Huawei in exchange for a surprisingly generous amount of money and ever since I’ve been working on this project. Gathering resources and acquiring enough space to work in is easy when money is no object. And an apartment in a city that’s full of apartments provides me the anonymity I need when working on such a legally dubious project like this.

Hopefully, it’ll work, though I doubt it will on the first try. The last step in being able to finally test the thing is a DNA sample of the test subject. I found out early on that the best way of simulating, or rather creating, life is to start from the beginning and speed up the process. A test tube baby, if you will, but one that grows extremely quickly. Relative to normal, I guess. Therefore, the best DNA sample I can provide is, of course, my own semen.

There’s a break in the otherwise seamless metal shell, the outline of a circle at the far end of the right side. Sweeping away some bolts and screws from the floor I approach it and press in on the circle. Out pops the intake table with a hiss. All I have to do is cum on the plate and the machine will take care of the rest. And luckily, I cum more than the average man, so it should definitely be a big enough sample size.

I steel my nerves and prepare myself. I’m a mess of anxiety and excitement. I hope this works. I take off my shorts and underwear and rest them on the top of the machine. As I anticipated, I’m already hard. In fact, I got a boner in the elevator and I think it hasn’t gone down yet. I knew I’d have no trouble with this step, though, meeting a clone of myself is the ultimate sexual fantasy. As a gay man, I’ve always been attracted to other men’s bodies, of course, but none as much as my own. I begin to stroke. I’ve always had a good body, lithe and toned, tanned with supple muscles, from years of sports. In other words, my ideal type. It’s a pastime of mine to stand in front of the mirror and study my naked reflection, pretending to seduce myself. I stroke harder. I feel something awry so I look down and notice my pubes are getting really long, out of control, even. So I let go of my dick and grab a nearby pair of scissors from the floor, making a mental note to clean up later, and start to trim, just so I can have a better time jacking off. I let the hairs fall to the floor. I’ll vacuum later.

I start stroking again, faster and faster, until I feel my balls start to tense up. With the sexual energy increasing, I take a step back with my left foot to balance myself and before long, I cum a fountain. I knew it’d be easy. Just the thought of this machine working has gotten me off many times before.

I stand with my face skyward, eyes closed, my lungs heaving, and my heart beating out of my chest. After a couple minutes, I look down to assess the damage. Luckily most of the jizz made it onto the intake plate with the exception of a few drops that landed on the floor. I wipe them off and pop them into my mouth. Delicious.

Pushing in the intake, I turn to the control panel and start prepping the machine as my cock begins to soften. I’m careful not to step in the mess of pubes on the ground and use my right foot to brush the pile out of the way.

After setting up the procedure and making sure the levels are at the right settings, I leave the fresh jizz to incubate for the night. By my estimates the process should take a few days, but who knows? I’ll just keep checking on it.

When the machine starts to run I become satisfied that I can leave it alone. I swipe my shorts and underwear off the top of the machine, take off my shirt and socks so I’m fully naked, and toss it all into the open door of my bedroom. With that, I hop into the shower.

I wake up with my heart racing, and for the next week experience mornings similar to that one, filled with anticipation and anxiety. On the control panel, I can see the inside of the machine through an infrared heat scan on the central screen. Slowly, to my amazement, a life form actually starts to grow in the chamber. Organs form and develop, and at first glance, it seems to be working perfectly. I wonder if years of laborious work have finally paid off.

Then, on the tenth day, a foreboding, crimson message: LIFEFORM UNSTABLE: RECOMMEND TERMINATING PROCEDURE. Fuck. And it was going so well. I walk to the couch, again stepping over various sharp objects. I never cleaned up. I plop down and sink into the cushions, swinging my feet up onto the coffee table. Luckily there isn’t much debris in the living area.

What to do? I suppose I have to destroy the life growing in the machine, I don’t want a mangled freak of nature running around the apartment. Suddenly, I’m struck by the ethical implications of going through with this.

But no matter. I must persevere. Lounging on the couch, I feel the stress of the last week and a half suddenly culminate and release. It would have been a miracle if I’d stayed awake after that.

With a start, I open my eyes and look around. A deep orange saturates the apartment through my tall windows, and shadows stretch like fingers all around me. I remember the machine and that error message. I struggle to get up and trudge over to the controls. I look at the screen expecting to see the same error message, but all I do see is a view of the inside, completely empty. What happened while I was out? Did the machine destroy the body by itself? I did install that function. In the case of this error, it’ll release a chemical that dissolves the body into a sludge and recycle the biomatter. I figure it must have done that on its own and continue to trudge around the apartment, eventually settling at my kitchen island. The machine rests in my periphery as I pull out my phone and order some dinner. I’m starving. After I eat, I’ll analyze the data from the machine and restart the procedure, hopefully with all the necessary changes.

Forty minutes and one episode of Netflix later, the doorbell rings.

“Just a second!” I yell at the delivery guy.

I dash to my room and swipe my wallet from the dresser. My stomach rumbles. I just as quickly jog over to the front door.

But when I open the door and see the figure in the hallway, a deep wave of nausea sweeps over my body and my eyes become the size of dinner plates. My heart explodes in my chest and I struggle to speak. A man stands stark naked in front of me, covering his genitals with his hands, but despite that, he doesn’t seem embarrassed. Within an instant, I recognize the face and the implications of this moment. He cautiously grins.

“Hey,” he says. It’s me. My clone.

I wake looking at the white ceiling of a darkened space, completely disoriented. My head hurts and I feel slightly dizzy. I realize I’m laying down on a carpeted surface, and a second later feel a wet, gelatinous sensation all over me.

I squeeze my eyes a few times and decide to try to at least sit up and take in my surroundings, but everything I attempt to move fails me. I try, but it hurts so much that I decide to just lay here.

Eventually, after some time and with great effort, I finally get myself propped up and look around. A great expanse is before me and I seem to be in the middle of it. I’m baffled but a second later I realize. An apartment. It’s mostly empty, and great windows cover the walls, letting in enormous amounts of morning light. Outside is a beautiful, expansive city.

“Wow,” I mutter to myself. Then suddenly I recognize it. This is my city. I live here.

Confused, I wonder how this thought came to me so suddenly, and I try to shuffle things around in my mind. Like my surroundings, though, it’s mostly empty. I can only remember the last hour or so.

What is going on? What happened to me? Who am I, even, and why don’t I know that? I keep trying to reach through my mind for a memory, anything that can explain this but all I find is darkness. It feels like I barely know anything at all.

I try to move again and it feels less painful, so I swing around my left limb that’s propping me up and look at it. My hand. My arm. The words come to me in an instant, when I’m sure I didn’t know what these things were called just a second ago. I lean forward more and bring around my other arm. They’re still soaking wet and a thick, green substance drips from my hands. I flick my hands around to dry them and wipe the rest on the carpet around me. I rub the substance off my arms.

Looking down, I notice the rest of my body. And again, I’m sure I didn’t know that word until just now. I see my flat stomach, my chest, nipples, shoulders, lift up my arms to see wet hair matted down in the crook. Armpit. Every movement disrupts the liquid that coats my body and I can feel that most of it is falling or dropping off. I’m a bit dryer now. Toes, feet, legs, thighs, slowly widening and curving out to connect to my hips.

Then I look in between and see something I’m amazed I didn’t think of or notice earlier. A thick, veiny tube sprouts from between my legs, resting on two balls, draped on the carpet. My penis. Testicles. Immediately, it begins to stir and I start to panic. It keeps moving on its own, straightening out and before long, it starts to rise up. I watch in horror as it approaches me and then, with each progressive pump it makes, as it becomes more and more erect, I get flooded with memories. Wave after wave, they wash over me.

When I remember everything, I look down again. My dick now reaches my belly button and I timidly move to touch it. I rub my fingers up and down the shaft when I think of the machine.

I remember building it, ordering the parts, the years of work. I remember jacking off into the machine and activating the cloning process and then, this. Here. Now. I run through my most recent memories. Starting the machine at night. Waking up here in the morning. Nothing between them. Then, in an instant, I figure what must have happened, the process that led to my being here on this carpet, directly below my apartment, and my heart starts beating out of my chest, my dick throbbing.

Finally I achingly stand up, facing the expansive windows. I take a cautious step forward and when I know I can walk, I rush to the door. Through the peephole, I see a door with the numbers 3315 beside it. The door across from my apartment reads 3415.

I look towards the ceiling and feel faint. Stumbling back, I try to clear my mind and steel myself. I look around again. To my right is the bedroom and bathroom. The apartment must be vacant but I figure the water is on, and I could really use a shower. I take a deep breath, and head in the direction of the bathroom.

Obviously there were no towels in the bathroom so I decide to drip dry in the front room. I study the skyline, my arms folded as I stare out the windows. I jerked off in the shower, but my dick refuses to descend. It makes sense, given the gravity of the situation, but it would be more comfortable.

There was no soap either, and I think I clogged the drain with the electrolytic gel from the machine, but my God it was relaxing. I must have spent hours in there. But out here, every few seconds a wave of anxiety and excitement washes over me and my chest tightens as I imagine the room above me, who must be in there. I think of what I will be like to meet him. To stand face to face with each other, two men, completely identical. The sun is going down and my shadow stretches out behind me. Finally, I feel dry and turn to the door. I wipe my feet down on a dry spot on the carpet, the outline of my body in green gel still laying on the shag. I guess I’ll leave it there. Maybe I’ll come back later to clean it but knowing me, I won’t.

I open the door and head towards the staircase. Before long, I’m standing in front of my front door. I know that an identical version of myself is somewhere in there, because I never leave. Taking a deep breath, and feeling as if my heart will explode, I step forward and press the doorbell.

“Just a second!” comes muffled from inside. I recognize it immediately as my own voice.

I step back and instinctively cover my dick. It’s still hard so I just press it against my stomach. I think I can feel that the tip is showing but I know that’s the last thing on my mind.

I hear heavy footfalls jogging towards the door, getting louder, and suddenly, it flies open.

It’s me. A face I’ve only seen in mirrors and in photos. Somehow it relaxes me and my face softens. Meanwhile, the man in front of me is utterly stunned. My wallet drops to the ground but I don’t think he noticed. He remains frozen. He’s wearing a white shirt with grey shorts. A very monochrome look. It’s clear he’s surprised to see me so I grin and offer the first word.

“Hey.”

It takes me a few seconds and some words of concern from the man in front of me until I can collect myself enough to string some words together. And even after that I’m only able to utter a measly,

“Come in.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” he responds, walking forwards. He pauses as he gets close to me as I forget to actually move back, but eventually I stumble out of the doorway.

He steps in and takes a look around, “Wow. Still a mess, I see.” He turns around to face me, still awkwardly covering his dick. I can see the head poking out of his palms when I realize he must be erect, and in response, my own dick speedily awakens. I try to think back to what he just said, still flustered by his sudden appearance.

“Uh, yeah. I’ve been meaning to clean up, but I obviously haven’t gotten around to it.”

“Ha. Yeah I figured. I’m not very good at that.”

I try to collect myself, and slowly, while my clone politely waits before me, I can genuinely feel parts of my brain connecting to itself and returning to normal. Finally, I make a sentence.

“Um, well, I’m surprised to see you obviously.” I force myself to make eye contact and feel a flutter. “I thought the machine didn’t work the first time. I actually received an error message this morning.”

My clone looks confused. “Wait, really? What did it say?”

“Lifeform unstable. Recommend terminating procedure. I got discouraged so I lied down to think and ended up sleeping most of the day. When I woke up, it was empty. I just thought it destroyed whatever was in there.”

“Well, clearly it worked,” he smiles. Heavenly. “It must have finished while you were sleeping and maybe, it just shot me straight down instead of to the side.”

“Right, of course!” My hand flies to my head in realization and threads through my hair. “Yeah, that makes sense! And my teleportation calculations must just be slightly off. Either that or some kind of malfunction or glitch. I’ll want to take a look at that.”

“Yeah me too,” he chuckles.

I start to speed over to the machine when I get the sudden sensation that I’m being inhospitable. Embarrassed, I shake my head.

“I’m sorry, you probably want some clothes, right?”

He smiles and nods. “Heh, yeah, that would be nice, I’ll just go to the bedroom and pick something out.”

“Right, and I’m sure it’ll all fit you. You’re me after all.”

He takes a deep breath and the fingers covering his dick twitch. A grin spreads across his face. “Of course.”

“Hey, um, it’s nice to meet you, by the way.”

“Same here.” And with that he turns and heads for the bedroom, careful to look down and avoid the mess on the ground. As he walks, for the first time I take in his body. My body. Beautifully slender, my ass jiggles at every step. I can’t help but smile wide, and when he gets to the open door, he looks back and catches me. He winks and I turn to stone. Then, the door tenderly closes.

My God. I pace around the room with a hand nervously tousling my hair. It worked. It actually worked. My dream, my fantasy, is getting dressed in the other room! By this point, my dick is helplessly and fully erect. I adjust it and give it a little shake.

“Ow! Fuck!” That same toolbox collides with my foot again. I give in and finally stomp over to the broom in the kitchen and begin to sweep the floor, pushing all the spare parts into a space by the windows, including the pile of pubes I trimmed. For the first time in what I figure must be a year, there is more than a ten square foot open space in my front room. I’m just happy to have the floor even partially cleared for my guest.

The door finally opens and I turn to see the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, a body I’ve only ever seen in the mirror and in photos. I just grip the broom and stand there like an idiot. He’s wearing my pink shirt and white shorts, and I can tell he went into the bathroom and fixed his hair.

“Wow,” I let out. I’m not sure if I meant to say that.

“You too,” he grins. I set the broom against the window and walk towards him. He takes a few timid steps forward to meet me. When we get close enough, I reach my hand out, but stop myself before I touch him.

“Can I…?” I mutter.

“Yeah.” He looks as flustered as I am. I place my hand on his shoulder. I run it down his arm and when I touch his skin I breathe deep. It’s so soft, and I can feel the faintest dusting of hair sprouting from the bicep as my thumb rubs the muscle. I go further. The hair thickens. I reach his hand and weave my fingers through his.

Suddenly, I become overwhelmed with emotion and pull him forward to hug me. He squeezes back and we settle into the deepest embrace I’ve ever felt. I feel the strength of his arms as he spreads them across my back, and my hands grasp his shoulder muscles.

The warmth of his steady breath ripples throughout my body. I take a step forward and let my dick rest against his through our shorts. My right hand moves to caress his head when I get a sudden urge. I pull apart from him and he does too. Our faces are just inches from one another, and in every way identical. I see the birthmark on my left cheek, a small dark spot.

“Can I kiss you?”

He grins. Beautiful. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that since I walked through my front door.”

Our lips finally collide. What feels like a shock courses through me. Years of waiting for this moment seems to combine into a ferocious lust and I can feel my other self experiencing the same feeling. I know exactly how I like to kiss, and my clone swirls his tongue around the inside of my mouth and mine in his.

It’s not long before we start to tear our clothes off, but when we both only have our underwear on, we take a step back and stare. He’s wearing white briefs, and so am I. I can see the outline of his hard cock pushed to the left, snaking around his waist. I can see my tan line just above the waistband, and the scar on his abdomen from a surgery I got when I was a kid. His milky hamstrings, broad shoulders, hard nipples, it’s one thing to see it in the mirror. In person, it’s mesmerizing.

“Holy shit,” he says.

“Same.”

“I thought this day might never come.”

“Me too.”

I gesture to his crotch. “May I?”

“Oh, please.”

I slowly approach myself and kneel down, grabbing each side of his underwear. I look up and see my face smiling back at me. My dick somehow gets even harder.

Slowly I pull his briefs down, revealing his pubic hair, and then the base of his cock. Halfway down the thigh, his thick, hard cock slips out of the waistband and slaps his stomach with a thud. I pull the underwear down to his feet and he steps out of them. Now he’s completely naked, just the same as when I first saw him. Then I notice something fascinating. I leap back.

“Wait, hold on.”

“What is it?”

I point to his crotch, “Your pubes! They’re just as short as mine!” I cry, pulling down my underwear to reveal my own pubic hair, “and I trimmed mine right before I jizzed into the machine!”

“That’s right, I remember doing that.” He looks surprised and thinks deeply.

“I had no idea my machine could produce a clone so precise!”

He looks up and smiles. “You’re a genius, man. What can I say?”

“Hey, you made that machine as much as I did,” he grins. “Now come over here and take my underwear off.”

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